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comfortless · 2 months

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syl im begging on my hands and knees pls pls pls expand on that idea of könig being a warrior rumored to eat womens hearts its like giving scheherazade and i NEED IT

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. vague time period/setting. fem(afab) reader. light descriptions of violence and gore, talk of cannibalism, non-con groping & cuddling, forced marriage.

There are endless tasks to be done and everything beneath a vast blue sky to explore, forgoing those things, the men about your village often prefer to gather for a duel. There are no rules for their game, only that you bring a weapon and thrust it toward the opponent in such a way that it brings you glory, pride, some scabbing mend to a crooked scar.

Except not you, never you. They wouldn’t so much as allow for the women to watch unless sparring for the hand of a weeping bride happened to be the gleaming prize waiting at the end of the night.

Your eyes had witnessed such before, a girl with hair the color of autumn straw that rolled down to the end of her back, whisked away by some man from the sea after he dug his blade into an old farmer’s belly. Her father. A sad thing, but you imagined her life must be much better now. Instead of tending to a mule or pricking her fingers on needles for sewing, she’s off collecting sea shells and has the ocean’s breeze eternally perfumed in her hair. Maybe she cradles a baby on her hip now, plump and cooing happily whilst they watch the waves roll and glitter beneath the sun.

A better life for only the cost of a swift death. It was something that you had always envisioned wanting for yourself, away from this village that reeks of blood, the very place where your options were limited to shoveling after the horses or to die a lonely hag.

That was until the behemoth began to show his face. Not quite his face at all, actually. It changed things for you. Instead of a longing for one of these strong men to carry you off into the night, there sat a creeping terror each and every time he crossed the threshold into the village.

He was rumored to be many things: an executioner from a foreign land, either a lost and wicked saint or a demon made flesh, and worst of them all… a cannibal from out in the untamed downs that crest the mountainside.

The women of the village were frightened by him, by the bulk and height that suggested he was not a man at all, but something far more terrifying beneath that black veil. They hid away when he first arrived, claiming he carried an organ in his hands, chewing away at a still-beating heart with blood running down his fingers. The men remained rigid, but their hands shook when they took up their weapons against him.

And there was no way of knowing then that this man was to be yours.

Time and time again, the giant would win, request a warm meal and a bed for the evening, and would be gone away come morning. He wouldn’t return for months, and the gossip would continue to fester until his return. Then, only then, would lips be pursed in silence and another fool would rush to death in an attempt to win some measure of pride. His opponent would be buried in the very field they would fight in, his bones serving for another layer upon the earthen stage once the worms and rats had picked him clean, and the giant would be back. He was always back.

The town is hushed to silence when his horse is led through the well-worn street. There are lingering observers: the broad stable hand that would not even dare to raise a whip or a dagger to this behemoth, the women of the brothel even shy away from him, and the children who whisper their rumors behind open palms.

He does not stop for any of them, only carries forward with that dark cloth concealing his head.

You peek out from your window, nursing tea with honey to calm the chill drifting through the air, feathering over your skin. It’s bitter on your tongue, even with the sweet coursing through it. Bitter, when his blue eyes flick in your direction and you feel every inch of your skin begin to prickle and tense.

He’s worse up close like this. The man doesn’t conceal his torso, never seemed to find a need to— no one ever gets close enough to wound him. Not any more, at least, judging by the pasty scars that mar his chest with the biggest being a healed, pinkish blemish that stretches from below his ribs down to a narrow hip. You find the most unsettling part about him is not those marks of violence, but the fact that you can not read his face.

Time slows to a halt as he just stares, takes you in with your cup of tea and the old dress stolen away from your mother’s own wardrobe. And you return it, warily looking him over from his veiled head down to the toes of his boots. After regarding you in the very same way a bored cat would observe an unaware, little bird, he moves along his path with a quiet huff of breath as his face is turned away from you.

There’s a heavy axe strapped to his back that you only notice then. Something new and shiny, glistening in the rays of golden sunlight above. Sharp and wicked, too cruel a weapon to be used in a bout for dinner and a lumpy mattress stuffed with decaying straw.

You could only hope he brought a cloth to clean it once this ordeal was over. Perhaps he truly does use his veil to do so, gets drunk on the scent of blood and gore clinging to it and pleasures himself to the violence as they claim. The macabre tales of this giant only go darker than that. But the tales he lives up to most of all are the ones about his skill in killing.

When night begins to scrape across the sky in dark, drab purple, fate comes crawling throughout the town as though it is nothing more than a famished ghoul.

Your mother storms toward you where you’re sat, preparing for bed. Her face is a mask of pure anguish when she pulls you into a tight embrace. She bawls into your hair, digs her nails into your back as though she would sooner die than let you go.

The men of the town follow behind her, wrenching her arms away from you and pulling you up by the front of your gown. The thin linen tears with the force of rough hands, rips a thick line down your chest that almost leaves you bared to them. Though the hands are eager, the eyes of these men do not shine with hunger, only with fear.

The shouts and cries from your lips are lost to them, to even your mother who wails in defeat someplace behind you.

“You’re plenty old enough to be a bride,” says one of the men, voice like a coiled snake spitting venom. It doesn’t take one of the well-educated people of the capital here to explain just what is to happen to you now.

The giant, the cannibal, saw something that he liked, and decided that you would be his prize. When you’re led to the field, kicking and flailing against the strong arms that hold you tightly in their grip, the sight is enough to tell you just how much that he enjoyed your silent, curious staring only hours before.

He stands upright, silent and daunting above a body that’s been split by the axe still held in one strong hand. The color of crimson cakes his knuckles, crests over his arm and the expanse of his chest, all from the headless corpse lying disposed at his feet.

The scene is what you expected, you’ve heard the words of your people about this beast of a man’s propensity for violence, but no amount of mental preparation could have truly readied you for seeing so much blood. The blood of a man you knew to be good and true, a hard-working blacksmith from the foothills. What a tragic way to go out: fighting for a pouch of coin when this horrible giant must have clearly lost his mind to rut and rage.

No hand comes to cover your mouth when you shriek, and the tight grips guiding you forward only loosen when your man or murderer stalks forward to take his prize. Through your tears, you still manage to make out the lines beneath his eyes, how they fold upward, and there’s no doubt that he’s smiling beneath that mask. A big, ugly grin at the thought of prying open your ribs and helping himself to a maiden’s heart.

He lifts it over his head in a swift motion, and drops it over your own instead, opposite to the hastily cut eye holes to block out all of the hazy, pale light of the moon and flickering yellow-red torches surrounding. Amidst the panic threatening to send your heart fleeing from your chest, the cold trickle of dread that finds itself curling in your belly, you feel two arms hoist you up and settle you over the back of his wretched steed.

“Gehen wir.”

Then, the darkness turns abyssal.

You only pray your body has truly died of fright when you first wake. There’s no darkness, no scent of blood when your eyelids pry apart to flutter. Water laps over your bare thighs, cold enough to force a shiver up from your feet to the blades of your shoulders. But behind you sits fire, a warmth so comforting you would think you’re rested against a stone bathed in summer sun, if not for the softness.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, rationalize just what’s happening, until a hand clutching a scrap of cloth maneuvers up from your thigh to your tummy, lathers you in a soap that smells only of pine. It halts, cinches around your waist when you begin to tense, when he knows you’re truly awake. A pond to your front and a man of horror at your back.

There’s sunlight streaming down from above, painting the clouds in gold. There are birds happily singing from the surrounding trees, and other, unseen animals scurrying through fallen leaves. Serene, pretty, and almost comforting when the wind turns course and brings with it the scent of late-ripening fruit. If the reality of your situation were not so dire, perhaps you would have enjoyed it, being here with a man who killed instead of presented your family with a dowry or offered you some pleasant wedding to dine and drink your fill of berry wine at.

“Let me go.” Your voice is a feigned warning, the mocking growl of a mere pup. You imagine he must keep his weapons close, only offering himself the courtesy of cleaning you so your meat doesn’t taste of dirt or lavender oil when he sinks his teeth into it.

“Süss frau,” he mumbles behind you, presses his head into your hair and inhales deeply as your body only grows further rigid. There’s a pause, before he corrects himself. “Meine süss frau.”

It would help if you knew what he was saying, calm your nerves some, maybe, but each word spoken only sounds guttural and instills further fear. You twist in his grip, hissing small curses that would have left your mother in a rage, but he only laughs at your squirming. Then, he tightens his grip as the cloth is dropped into the pond’s glassy water.

“Take me back home,” you continue to urge, placing a trembling hand over the limb pressing your body further back against him. “Please.”

Your small attempt at pleading is met only with his head dropping to the nape of your neck, a kiss pressed against the flesh there. It warms for him, sends a heat spiking up to your cheeks in spite of the way you still suspect he wishes only to rip your throat open with teeth more akin to a devil’s fangs.

You turn your head, intent on spitting right in this monster’s face, but find only a man looking back at you.

There’s a shimmer in his eyes that almost seems playful, a grin so prevalent there it must cause the corners of his mouth to ache. No blood in his teeth, and though the silvery-blue of his eyes seems distant, they are not cold. The goliath who stole you away stinking of blood and innards isn’t present now, and that seems even less of a comfort. He’s even handsome in the strangest way, certainly not the look of nobility, but none of his features are cruel. There’s a boyish charm to him, perhaps he would have the look of a charismatic farmhand or an apprentice of sorts if not for the scarring.

“Won’t hurt you… too pretty,” he assures, burying his face against the side of your neck. But the bastard does, digs his teeth right in and suckles at your skin when you claw at his arm in surprise. It’s not enough to draw drops of blood, but it accentuates the point that he seems to see you as something of his, a possession of sorts.

There’s a messy patch of drool over bruising skin when he pulls away to laugh at the wounded expression upon your face. He apologizes in a huff of breath as he guides you up to stand at his side. His hands linger too long for comfort when they rest along your waist. Your sullen glare only seems to further endear him. Too much, judging by the way the pillar between his legs bounces thick and hard and proud, throbs when you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze and angrily hiss to him about how a man should treat his wife. Cannibal or not, the beast needed to learn some manners.

Fear still edges its way up your spine, but it diminishes more and more as the seconds pass.

He’s no gentleman when he splashes away the remnants of soap from your body, hands grazing over every inch of your bare skin he sees available to touch. Your breast first, weighed up in his palm with the nipple pinched between his index and middle. Emboldened by your hushed protests, he dares to slip his other between your legs, and only then do you force his hands away.

He certainly bears no resemblance to a proper husband when he hoists you over one shoulder to carry you further into the woods and into his shack, either.

It’s barren and ugly, an unsightly wooden structure decorated only with a thin mattress, a table too small, and blades of many forms. The axe sits proudly below the window, astonishingly cleaned of the gore from the night prior. The veil rests above it on the sill, damp from a cleaning that never should have been. You stare at his belongings for a time when you’re placed on your feet, silently judging the array in search of anything to justify the gossip, only to come up short of anything.

He doesn’t even touch you past the bathing in the pond. You’re dressed in a tunic that fits like a dress upon your form: far too big, long and dull to be anything you would normally be seen in. But there are no tailors this far out in the wilderness, though there’s an apologetic promise whispered to you once he sees you in his clothes. He’ll buy you a new dress upon your first visit to town as his wife, several if it pleases you.

The man leaves for a spell, brings you rabbit to clean and prepare, then busies himself stoking up a fire for cooking. His speech is a little broken when he tells you of how long he’s waited to have someone like you here with him, how he never suspected a woman so pretty would be his wife. And you don’t eat when the meat is fully cooked and placed in front of you both. You insist that you only wish to return back home, to hug your mother and tell her that you’re still alive.

That, he takes insult to.

His brow is pinched when he forces you to sit in his lap. He brings the meat to your lips and presses into your cheeks with his free hand to force your mouth open. There’s nothing romantic or cute about it, about him, but you do glumly settle in his hold when the realization does dawn on you that, though his strength is extraordinary, he is only a man and the only harm coming to you would be between your legs.

You’re drug over to the mattress after dinner by a tight hold over your wrist. The fight hasn’t left you, not by a smidge, even when the loose tunic is lifted over your head with shouts of your displeasure and you’re pressed onto your back with the giant watching you curiously from above.

He pins you there, but doesn’t force his hands down to your sex again. He only sighs when he rests his weight next to you and curls in to lie his head over your breasts.

You’re body remains stiff and rigid as a bowstring. His nearness only sends that same swell of heat back from the pond, brings with it the scent of fire smoke and sweat emanating from him. His hair is long and soft, soft as the kisses he places on the plushness of your tit, long as the drag of a callused palm from your hip up to cup the other.

He offers you no warning when his teeth circle over your nipple, holds fast to you when your back arches and your fingers weave into his hair to jerk him away. The worst part about him seemed to be having a penchant for leaving a mark, and the smug grin that crosses his face when he meets the fury in your eyes with the lust-drunk look in his own.

“Was? You don’t like?,” he grumbles, tracing over the marks of his teeth with his thumb, pressing against and smearing his saliva until you feel your back begin to arch and your breathing grow heavy.

“It hurts.”

He stares at you in amazement for a moment, whether surprised you haven’t made an attempt to flee or startled by the lack of a strike to his jaw after such a thing, it mattered not. Your terrible, ignorant “husband” only seems satisfied with your response. He draws back to sit on his knees before you, sliding his hands along each curve and dip of your body until they rest at your ankles.

“Ja… hurts. I will make it better, meine süße.”

He’s no less brazen when he makes a dive toward your womanhood, lips parted in preparation to breathe you in. Or… taste you in full, whichever option was suited for men who were more beasts than men at all. Maybe that was his only feat of cannibalism: licking at women until they were wet and pliant for him to take entirely. You pry him away with a gasp and a quick shift onto your side, demanding that he not touch you any further.

Again, he laughs, curls behind you and shifts his hips to slot the girth of his cock between your thighs, buries his face into your neck once again. You can feel the grin that stretches over his lips against your skin. When the dark envelopes you both, the quiet crackle of the fire in its pit still showing signs of life, he seems content to just cuddle you close.

Exhaustion creeps its way through your limbs, steals the fight from your voice and leaves your eyelids heavy. You consider waiting it out, listening to his breathing deepen and slow to creep away, but his grip is firm around your middle, so strangely comforting that you do allow yourself to relax. Running could wait until the morning sun rose.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #this has been in my inbox for months i am SO sorry

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denim-devil · 7 months

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Bad To The Bone - Week 1 | Mirror Fucking/Hair pulling

Summary - When hearts collide, Billy chooses to chase after the longing thoughts that have only you in the midsts of them all, the biggest halloween party ever hosted in the small town of Hawkins was his best bet to finally entice those very thoughts…

Pairings - Bully!Billy Hargrove x M!Reader

The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he stalked the crowded room, his eyes lingering on the current sight before him. Steve’s hands were far to close for his liking, lightly grabbing at your swaying hips.

What had felt like an eternity, Billy slowly crept toward the two of you, anger and malice ran through his veins like the blood circulating his body had done, bubbling up, growing closer to a boiling point.

Steve’s lips felt warm against the crook of your neck, his teeth nibbling gently against the dampness. Although under the influence, you had no desire to stop him, not after the end of your mid-night rendezvous with the current king and bully of Hawkins High.

A slight shove had forced the ridiculed Steve into the wall beside the two of you, a harsh bang sounding out into the room, even with the noisy crowd of teenage students and the humming beats of madonna…it was loud.

“Watch it asshole-“

Steve ushered out with a hiss. As if time itself was a concept, you stood, frozen. Billy stood with a proud smirk, his black, slightly damp leather jacket was hung open, showcasing the toned physique you were once frequented with.

“Watch what? I didn’t do anything”

Billy tuts, his eyes flicking over to you, looking you up and down like he would his next meal, like a dangerous predator to it’s prey. A certain ache began to pool between your legs, what were once pale, your cheeks were now a deep shade of crimson, taking note of Billy’s looming figure.

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

Taking a puff of his cigarette, it goes back to laying loose between a shit-eaten grin, his tongue flicking over the orange tip. Billy had no time for games, nor Steve’s bullshit, instead he opted for the obvious choice, charging toward you with his fingerless leather gloves which eagerly wrapped around your bicep, yanking you toward the stairs.

“Oh your in so much shit sweetheart”

He half growled, half whispered, even with the music blaring and the crowd going back to dancing and chatting, Billy took himself seriously, only wanting you to know what was to follow as you stumbled up behind him, leaving a confused Steve, stammering around in the very same corner.

He hadn’t bothered to look back, feeling how limp your wrist was within his grip had told him everything he needed to know, you had no fight to win, Billy had already won, more so with the dingy bathroom door flying open with a tug and a kick.

Thump, thump, thump. It rang through your ears like an alarm, heartbeat pacing like a jockey and it’s horse during a race, running quicker once the door slammed shut and the click of the lock latching away both your confidence and the thoughts of an impending escape.

He stood, flicking the cigarette bud onto the floor before raising one of his heavy boots, stomping the crisp leftovers into dust.

You watched the older male proceed to shake of his jacket, leaving him in just the denim jeans he was naturally acquainted with.

“You better think twice before ever letting Harrington touch you like that again-“

Nodding was the only beneficial answer, earning a daring smirk from the manic jock before you. His golden locks were matted yet matched the darkness now claiming the once ocean blue eyes he usually sported, his hair resting against the sweaty tan skin that covered his innards.

His steps grew closer with each thump correlating with your heartbeat, black boots treading against the tiled floor toward you until his warm breath fanned lightly across your pink-dusted cheeks.

“Billy- please, it was nothing, j-just needed something”

He tutted before pressing his body against you, pushing you further into the floral wallpapered brick behind, instantly making you feel small and defenceless.

“Save it- you need to learn a thing or two…”

Billy doesn’t think twice, he normally doesn’t before acting on said thoughts, twisting your body, roughly laying you stomach first against the counter top that faced the elongated mirror before you.

His body, warm and delectable now rolled into your arched form from behind, pushing most of his growing erection against you, forcing you to feel your own impending doom.

“You should be thanking me sweetheart, you got this cock all to yourself and you were ready to throw it away like dog shit- fuck”

You incoherently mumble a short “no” before pushing back momentarily, testing the waters. Luck had happened to be in your favour, a starving Billy, craving nothing but to ravish you groaned before pulling back.

It was easier to see this way, watching eager finger tips make quick work of his leather belt and crotch zipper, both thumbs hooking into the burgundy band of his boxers, wiggling them down slowly, past the light trimming of blonde pubes surrounding his veiny, thick base.

“Can’t stop thinking about how easily you take this dick”

Your tongue trails over your dry lips, watching as the band smoothly runs further down, catching on the moist tip before being completely removed, his cock bounces, loudly slapping into his toned abdomen, the head angry with urgency, a deep crimson in colour, he was thick from base to tip, a singular girthy vein running on the underside, splitting off just underneath the curve of his tip.

He chuckled at the reaction, watching as the same lips he used to get himself once in the janitor closet after gym class hung agape, eyes wide with earnest and adoration.

“Don’cha think Harrington would give it in so easy? Look at you, all dolled up for the wrong guy-“

You groan into the warm air of the now secluded space, the bathroom, although big felt small with the presence of Billy watching over you, his shadow looming in every corner from the dim strip light placed just above the mirror, forwarding his domineering ways.

“Billy- I got dolled up for you…”

As if words were a dagger, sharp and pointy, cutting into his skin, seeping deeper and changing his whole point of view. It was clear now, from the tight, revealing light wash jeans that hugged every spot he had both discovered and devoured more then once to the dainty leather jacket that had you looking smaller then usual, swallowing you up.

“Oh really? Fuck princess, you really know how to rile up a guy”

His fingers tips scrambled from your inner thighs upward, towards the belt loops and eventually to the knot holding you together.

Billy had made quick work with your belt and jeans, unclasping the metal before roughly pulling down the tight denim that hugged you perfectly, followed by the white briefs unveiling the very source of his affliction and desire.

His cock, thick and heavy, laid perfectly between your crack, pulsing at the very thought of being inside once again, after weeks of having blue balls, it was his forbidden truth to feel you all over again, like the first.

“Harrington could never- you really think he could fuck you the way I do? Make you feel things…”

Reaching down, a warm hand cups the base of your dick before slightly tugging, the leather cold against the warmth he was supplying. The moans that had forced themselves from deep within bubbled up into a whimper once surpassing your open lips.

His free hand managed to sneakily wrap itself within your hair, tugging harshly, you were not getting out of this, even if you had the choice.

“I won’t ask you again doll-“

You mumble a sharp, squeaky “no” once the angry tip rests softly against the puckered skin surrounding your entrance and Billy’s gateway into bliss. A few more tugs was all he offered up before removing his hand from your dribbling member, slightly patting at the pert globes you arched into him.

He chuckled cockily, his beer-soaked chest resting against your clothed back before looking up into the glass mirror. It was almost invigorating to see himself like this, to watch you wriggle with anticipation, giving in so easily, allowing Billy himself to guide you through his ecstasy, it was even better, a strangers bathroom had never brought him so much glory.

“Atta boy, come on, won’t you relax for me, let me in sweetheart…”

He slips in with ease, creating a stretch that burned like the sun, growing with each passing inch, watching as his tongue danced against your neck, how your features twisted with pain…then pleasure.

“Look at yourself-“

He settles against you before pressing his hips flush against your own, filling you up, warm and thick in your gut. Tear-stained eyes flick up to settle on his baby blues that twitched with lust, his smirk big and proud, almost intimidating.

“That’s it- that’s my pretty boy, such a sweet thing for me, all for me”

He panted before pulling completely back with an audible pop, watching his cock bob, he ushered himself back in to the hilt with a loud slap, this was something Billy would never forget, clearly.

“Keep your eyes on me princess-“

You did, watching him roll his hips, feeling each inch slip and slide against your velvet walls, his tip edging it’s way back and forth, watching your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Bill- Billy, please-“

You gasp before he presses fully forward, pushing against your pleasure spot and watching you gasp, tongue licking at dry lips. Once again you find his eyes, blushing at the wet laps he gives your neck.

“You’ll think twice next time hmm?”…

#male reader #x male reader #stranger things #billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove #smut #possessive!billy #this woulf of been longer- but i’ve lost interest #hope yall enjoy it for what it is 🫶

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hearts4hughes · 7 months

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green-eyed boy | jack hughes

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which jack’s jealousy takes control of him when you grow closer to an old friend.

note: this is so rushed and short, but i was in need of some jealousy jack on this rainy monday. i apologize for any mistakes in the writing, i wrote this whole watching the bruins’ game tonight.

jealousy had consumed him, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. it all began with seemingly insignificant occurrences, like you exchanging texts and snapchats with your old friend, dominic. gradually, it escalated into something more significant—breakfasts, morning calls, and inside jokes. despite its innocent nature, it all remained purely platonic. after all, dominic was only in town for the week, and you wished to maximize your time together.

but for jack, it felt like torment. each mention of dominic's name triggered a surge of his insecurities. he trusted you unquestionably, yet he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of irritation at having to share your attention.

"hey, baby." jack greeted, taking note of your smiley face. "whatcha laughing at?"

"oh nothing," you dismissed. he furrowed his brows, lips forming a small pout. "just an inside joke with dom."

jack rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but furrow your brows. "so he's 'dom' now. didn't realize that," he mumbled, more to himself than to you.

you exchanged a puzzled glance with jack, sensing that something was amiss. his jealousy was becoming more apparent with each passing day.

"jack, is something bothering you?" you asked, genuinely concerned.

he averted his gaze, his irritation evident. "nah, it's nothing," he muttered, crossing his arms defensively.

"oh, i know what it is!" you teased, "someone's a little jealous."

jack's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a tight line. he refused to acknowledge your playful taunt.

you couldn't help but push a little further, your playfulness mixing with a hint of concern. "come on, jack, don't be like that. you know there's no reason to be jealous. it's just dominic, and i love you."

instead of responding, jack turned away, his stubborn silence filling the air. he gave you the silent treatment, which was a tactic he sometimes used when his emotions got the better of him.

you sighed and decided it was time to change your approach. you slid closer to him, gently tracing your fingers along his arm. "okay, i get it. you're not in the mood to talk right now."

jack remained silent but didn't move away from your touch.

you leaned in closer, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "you know i love you, right?"

jack's shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly, but he still avoided eye contact.

your teasing had brought a playful twist to this situation, but you knew it was essential to reassure jack. you traced your fingertips along his jawline, turning his face to meet your gaze. "jack, you're the only one i want, and nothing's going to change that. dominic's just a friend, but you, you're my love."

finally, jack couldn't resist the warmth in your eyes and the sincerity in your words. he met your gaze, and his icy demeanor began to melt away. "i know, y/n. i just can't help it sometimes. it's silly, i know."

you grinned and pecked his lips gently. "it's not silly, it's cute. it's hot when you get jealous, but remember, i'm all yours."

jack's pout turned into a sly smirk. “you think i’m hot?” his voice was smug. it seemed like he had gotten over his mini-fit.

“i think you're more than hot, baby.” you played into his ego. his face flushed as it dropped into the crook of your neck, planting wet kisses along your jawline. you giggled, allowing your hands to entangle with his locks, tugging gently as he sucked on your sweet spot.

“i’m so lucky to have you.” his breath was hot in your ear. your lips curved up into a goofy grin. “now, let me show you how much you mean to me.” his tone was sultry and his hand dropped to your waist, repositioning into his lap.

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#jack hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction

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mncxbe · 3 months

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I got my eye on youೀ๋࣭ ⭑

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff to soul soothing smut, dry humping, creampie, gentle, subby (sobbing) Fyodor, not proofread// now playing "Say yes to heaven"

Fyodor had his eye on you from the first moment he saw you– a pretty face buried in a hard cover volume of some novel he hasn't heard of, sitting in the back of the coffee shop he frequented with a cup of hot coffee before you. That was months ago and to this day he still hasn't forgotten the blush that tinted your cheeks when you met his gaze. Fyodor has never thought of himself as the type of man to be interested in relationships; he had his goals and his endeavours left little to no space for romance in his life– but he couldn't help it this time. Not with you.

So instead of averting his gaze from you, instead of paying his tab and leaving the coffee shop like he was supposed to, Fyodor came to your table and struck up a conversation.

He didn't expect the one time meeting to turn into regular dates at the museum and walks around Tokyo's busy streets at sunset after your shift at the library ended. At first, your relationship progressed slowly– neither of you willing to make the next step. He was often out of town, carrying out different shady business on behalf of his organization but although your bond didn't have a set lable, he knew without a shred of doubt that his heart belonged to you. That he loved you.

Months after your first meeting, he found himself coming to your place more and more often. Your invitations were most innocent– "I just wanna play a game of chess with you" you claimed every time but Fyodor wasn't stupid. He could tell by your loose behaviour and the fleeting glances you gave him that you were after something more. A lingering touch on his shoulder here, a dress hiked a bit too high there; yea, he knew what you wanted and still couldn't bring himself to give it to you.

Problem was, he actually cared about you. He wasn't willing to risk putting you in any danger by forming a deeper bond with you. Some nights, when thoughts of you kept him up 'till the break of dawn, he wondered if you two could actually work– he was smart enough to keep your relationship safe from his enemies' eyes, his precious little secret. But were his own selfish desires worth endangering you?

No, it wasn't worth it. Surely wasn't worth the risk but even a rational and composed man like him was bound to cave in eventually. That's how you ended up between the plush pillows on your bed, with Fyodor prettily sprawled under you. His hair was like a dark halo against your cream coloured pillow case, so silky you couldn't help but run your fingers through it.

"You're so pretty, Fedya" you mumbled between soft kisses, gently tugging at his roots. The man only hummed in response, his hips bucking up against your clothed core providing a much needed friction. Fyodor was on cloud nine, melting like cotton candy on your tongue as you deepened the kiss– his arms wrapped tightly around your hips, keeping you flush against him.

He wasn't used to such closeness between you– the way your love for him spilled from your plump lips into him, the hushed whispers and praises driving him closer to the edge. "Myshka... wait a moment" he chuckled weakly, his slender hands coming to rest on your hips, halting your movements but you wouldn't have it. Prying his shaky hands away from your body you resumed your movements, making the man whimper softly

"Fedya, my love, don't worry about it just let go. Relax..." you purred against the shell of his ear. Your hands trailed over his clothed arm— their touch electrifying, burning the bare skin underneath. Fyodor felt so helpless in your arms, rutting his hips against you as he pushed himself closer to the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly as he tried to keep himself in check— strange, it was so strange how someone else's touch could make his hard exterior crumble. You touched his heart like no one else and still, he denied himself your comfort and love for so long... Now that he finally had it he was scared, overwhelmed, so weak in this unfamiliar territory.

You felt his hot tears against your skin before he was aware of them. "Fedya, you alright?" you asked sweetly, your lips brushing against his temple but he didn't answer. Instead, his mouth found your neck as he left wet, needy kisses along its expanse "'m sorry, dear think i'm gonna– shit i'm gonna cum soon" . His voice was cracked, barely above a whisper, betraying the desperate state he was in. A chuckle rolled past your lips as you cradled him in your arms. "Don't you wanna do it inside me, baby? I wanna feel you"

It took all the self restraint he had not to cum on the spot– his mind going blank at the thought of spilling himself inside you. You wanted this too, right? So there was nothing wrong with it... Still, as he stripped you of your blouse and panties, Fyodor felt as if he were ridding himself of all the beliefs and rules his religion imposed on him– but he was willing to do even that for you.

A choked moan left his throat as he slid inside you, filling you up inch by inch "S-so tight..." he huffed, squeezing your hips with his hands in attempt to ground himself. "All for you, my love. I'm all yours" you hummed, your silken voice raising goosebumps on his skin. You began rolling your hips against his at a steady pace, ripping moans and pleas from the man below you.

"Please Y/N slow down~" he mumbled, sniffling softly and you brushed the tears at the corners of his eyes with your thumb. "Shhh you're doing great Fedya. So, so good for me. Just focus on feeling well, okay? Let me take care of you"

Your words were so sweet and loving he felt he was actually going to pass out. The liquid heat in his lower abdomen spread in his whole body, numbing the nagging thoughts and fears. His breathing grew heavier as he felt his orgasm approaching and it didn't take him long to cum inside you, filling you up with his creamy seed. A content hum left your lips as you slumped next to him, relishing the silence that settled between you.

"Hey..." you said eventually, twirling a silky strand of his hair between your fingers. Fyodor's gaze lowered to meet your soft eyes and he smiled. "What, my dear myshka?" he taunted, and you were glad to see that he was slowly getting back to his usual self.

"Nothing" you giggled, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek that almost had him melting. "Just wanted to know if you're alright." Fyodor's hand found yours amidst the crumpled sheets, his thumb tracing idly along your knuckles.

"It was wonderful, really. It's just that I never felt like this with anyone else." he finally admitted. And it was true– there had been no one else in his life before and surely won't be after.

"Never ever?"

"Never" he insisted, watching the corners of your lips stretch into a soft smile. Your free hand finally abandoned his hair, sliding down to cradle his face as you leaned closer to him. Close, so, so close it had his stomach churning. It's as if you had him under your spell.

"Well, I'm glad" you added, nuzzling your nose against his "I wouldn't mind doing this again"

"And I wouldn't mind trying something more with you" he said back, his gaze unwavering as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Would you like to be mine? Officially, I mean"

You couldn't help but giggle at his serious tone "Is that a marriage proposal or are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Just my girlfriend, for now. So, will you say yes?" he chuckled, giving you one of those soft looks reserved for your eyes only.

"Yea, of course" you giggled "I mean it was about time you asked. I was starting to believe you were no longer interested"

In that moment, Fyodor wanted to confess his undying love for you, to reassure you that his heart was yours from now 'till the end of time, but he knew it'd be a bit too dramatic for him. So he simply sealed his promise with a kiss. "Silly girl. I could never get tired of you"

#𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs fyodor #bsd fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor fluff #fyodor smut #bungo stray dogs fluff #bungo stray dogs smut #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd

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vintagebunnies · 11 months

Text

from the morning

eddie munson x fem!reader

You and Eddie spend the morning together. (1.2k)

fluff, soft sex, smut, fem!reader, established relationship, 18+ only!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The warm early morning sun shone rays through the dilapidated blinds hanging from the frosted over windows, leaving a pleasant glow throughout the dark room.

Time didn’t exist during these times.

The first flush of morning was always silent, shrouded by the sound of chirping cicadas and the slight breeze around the tiny town.

Eddie waking up in the early hours of the morning was astonishing, he always took his time in waking up—meaning he didn’t wake up until the late afternoon—but there was only one reason as to why he’d wake up at these ungodly hours where the sun was still halfway hidden behind the night clouds.

He had a dirty dream, specifically about you; who was sleeping soundly next to him.

Eddie woke you up with soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, leaving a pleasant feeling over the fresh marks that were dusted with a slight purple and red. Barely noticeable, but there.

You awoke with a grumble, not up to Eddie’s antics in the early day. You pushed him off lightly, he was persistent either way. Almost like a parasite that refused to leave, but a parasite you never wanted to leave, letting it bury itself deeper into your bloodstream.

“I want you so bad sweetheart,” Eddie’s rough gravelly voice whispered in your ear, still a hint of tiredness in his tone. He enunciated his point by rutting against your thigh.

His calloused ringless hands made their way across your torso and slowly moved lower, stopping at your soft belly. He didn’t dare to move any lower, refusing to do anything he wasn’t sure you wanted.

You peeked an eye open at Eddie, who was sitting up resting on his elbow. His big brown eyes had a gleam, still covered with sleep.

“What time is it.” You asked plainly.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Eddie lowered his head back into the crook of your neck.

“Eddie, it’s way too early for this.”

“No it’s not,” His voice was muffled, warm puffs of air against your neck with every word he spoke.

You placed your hand on the back of his head, giving his frizzy curls a small pull.

He let out a groan.

Horny weirdo.

His kisses descended lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your body.

Eddie looked up at you through his lashes, resting his head against your plush inner thigh.

You gave in eventually, how could you say no to this beautiful boy who has so much love for you written all over his face?

That’s what led you both to now.

You were seated on top of Eddie’s hard cock, arms around his neck while his were around your waist.

Eddie left little kisses and bites across the top of your breasts.

Everything was soft and slow, little moans and groans let out occasionally.

Your thighs burned from the slow pace, but you didn’t want to risk the sickly sweet moment with Eddie. He would thrust up into you from time to time, making you let out quiet gasps.

You grabbed onto Eddie’s curls, pulling his head back and meeting your lips to his.

It was a slow game of tongue and spit exchanged between you two, not caring that the other still had morning breath.

Eddie moved away from your lips that are now shining with spit, replacing it with his thumb. His thumb pressed right onto your tongue, while your lips wrapped around his digit.

You closed your eyes as your tongue circled around his thumb, soaking it with saliva.

When he thought it was wet enough, he pulled it out of your mouth, a trail of spit connecting his thumb to your bottom lip.

He brought his hand lower, right over your swollen clit, the sudden friction making your hips jolt and your eyebrows furrow. Your mouth formed a small ‘o’.

This action made you pick up the pace, right on the cusp of your release. The feeling was like a rubber band being stretched in your lower belly, a flush breaking out on your entire body.

You started to grind your hips back and forth over his cock that was nestled inside of your walls, arousal dripping onto his bare thighs.

Eddie kept his pace of slowly rubbing your bundle of nerves, his other hand gripping your thigh.

“I’m so.. so close..” You could barely form a sentence, every word announced with a breathy undertone.

You could feel Eddie’s smile against your shoulder, he nibbled on the skin, rolling it through his teeth.

“Then cum,” He whispered lowly in your ear.

Even while he was under you, he still held the dominance. Eddie had the ability to turn you to mush, nothing but a gooey mess.

His words spurred you on to get you closer to your release, clenching around his length, making him groan.

Your speed progressively got faster, your release coming closer. The mix of Eddie’s thumb over your clit and his other hand roaming around the expanse of your waist, amplified the feeling.

Eddie’s hand moved upwards towards your breast, giving your nipple a pinch. You came with a high pitched shout, riding out your orgasm.

Eddie’s thumb didn’t stop on your clit until you pushed him away from the stimulation.

The clenching of your cunt over Eddie’s cock pushed him closer to cumming, but not quite there.

His large hands gripped your waist, switching your positions. You gasped at the movement.

Eddie’s hands didn’t move from your waist, your arms wrapped tightly over his shoulders while his thrusting into your sopping cunt gradually got faster.

You were overstimulated, the pleasure being amplified by his pace change.

Eddie’s room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin and loud moans.

Every time Eddie groaned against your neck, you would purposely squeeze his cock.

Your legs were locked by the ankle around his waist, resting against the dimples on his lower back.

Eddie was leaving love bites around your neck, each bite you would yank a chunk of his hair. This made Eddie grasp your wrists and pin them on the pillow next to your head, using his grip as leverage to thrust deeper.

You were biting on your bottom lip, chewing the skin raw, Eddie immediately lowered his head to sloppily kiss you. His tongue swiped over the teeth marks on your lips, soothing the sting. Eddie thrusted a few more times into your cunt, filling you up with his spend.

The warmth from his release enveloped your body, leaving a pleasing feeling. The grip Eddie had on your wrists loosened, he lowered himself to lay on top of you, his unruly hair tickling your neck.

The sun had finally risen, coming out of hiding behind the dark clouds. The sounds of morning doves could be heard, singing a lovely song for the bright sky.

You and Eddie basked in the afterglow of sex, now being able to enjoy the quiet morning together.

Eddie’s quiet snores were sounded throughout the room, making you smile.

You tilted your head down, leaving a small kiss on the top of his head, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Your eyes eventually drifted close, falling into a peaceful sleep.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fluff

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

Note

Please bestie do me a favour and write the fic where reader gets cucked by Steve please I’m on my knees begging I love your work

smutty stocking stuffers day two - steddie x reader

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), protected anal sex, cuckholding, coming untouched, dacryphilia, dirty talk, mean reader, mean steve, fluff, banter.

Word Count | 2.1k

A/N | for anybody who’s confused, this prompt is based on this post by the ever wonderful @boldlyvoid 🤍

“At this point I honestly think you want to fuck Steve,” You say it to Eddie as a passing comment, really. It doesn’t come out snarky, just factual. You'd seen the way they were together, the lingering glances, how they always had to be touching each other, it was bordering on more-than-friends territory, and you'd be a fool to pretend you'd never noticed it.

Eddie had been non stop, talking about everything he and Steve got up to on their ‘boys trip’ to the city since he got back a few short hours earlier. Eddie’s voice dies in his throat at your words, brows furrowing and a pout overcoming him.

“You want to fuck Steve,” Its a weak response, but it’s all Eddie’s got, and it makes you cackle. He’s flustered, cheeks hot, twiddling his rings in his fingers the way he always does when he’s nervous.

“Maybe I wanna watch Steve fuck you,” You say it as a half joke, so if Eddie freaks out you can back up and say you were only kidding and he’ll somewhat believe you, but you’re looking at Eddie and he’s looking at you, and he’s not shooting you down or running away in disgust.

“You wanna get cucked by Steve Harrington?” Eddie bristles, and you laugh at how stupid it sounds, now that he’s saying it out loud. But a warmth pools in your belly at the thought, a flush takes over your face.

“I dunno, maybe I do.” You challenge, expecting Eddie to back down, but he looks at you all defiantly, crowding into your space, hands engulfing your hips. It’s a weird game of chicken, you think, and Steve is the unwilling pawn.

“Maybe you should call him then.” Eddie’s breath fans in your face and it makes you shiver, the faint smell of cigarettes and minty gum intoxicating. He leans in to kiss you, and you meet him halfway, getting wrapped up in the searing heat of it as he kicks your legs apart, slots one of his own in the space in between, and lets you grind against him until you're gasping and crying his name.

“Look at her, she looks real pretty sat there watching us, huh?” Steve’s attention goes to you, where you’re sat in his chair at the side of the bed, watching them with hooded eyes.

The pretty lacy underwear you put on had been worn at Steve’s request — “It’s only fair I get to see you both looking sweet for me, right?” He’d cooly said it down the phone, and it had you twirling the cord in your fingers with a blush spread across your cheeks. Steve had a sharp tongue, he knew how to fluster you.

He’s talking nonchalantly as if he’s not two fingers deep in Eddie’s ass, spreading him open and getting your boyfriend ready to take his cock. Steve is big, but you knew that anyway, Hawkins was a small town and everybody talked, you’d heard your fair share about Steve Harrington’s penis.

Eddie’s losing composure pretty quickly, fringe matted to his forehead and small little whimpers escaping his lips, noises going right to your cunt. He was always submissive, even for you, but this was something entirely different — watching him being fucked open by Steve’s long fingers with his knees almost up at his chest.

“You think you can handle me nice now, hmm?” Steve grins down at Eddie, and you see him flex his wrist, crooking slightly until Eddie’s gasping for breath, fisting the sheets below him. His hard cock kicks up against his belly, slapping and leaving slick behind on his happy trail.

Eddie nods, throwing an arm over his eyes to shield them as Steve slips his wet fingers out, making hasty work of grabbing for the condom and lube next to him on the bed, tearing the foil with his teeth.

You watch through half lidded eyes in awe, Steve’s as hard as Eddie is and he’s not even been touched. He slides the condom down his length with ease, like he’d done it a hundred times before (and the rest, you bristle quietly). He pops the cap on the lube, slicking himself with it, exhaling a shuddery moan when he deftly wraps his own hand around his cock, the little bit of relief obviously feeling blissful.

“What do you say, babygirl? Think he’s ready for me?” Steve asks without even looking at you, shuffling forward between Eddie’s spread legs, catching the head of his cock on Eddie’s hole and eliciting a hiss in return.

You speak without even thinking, like your mouth can’t catch up with your brain, “I think so, Stevie. Give him what he’s been begging for, I know he can take it.”

Steve grabs at Eddie’s arm with his free hand, tearing it away from his eyes, forcing his head to the side, making Eddie look at you when you’re talking to him. There’s a glint in Eddie’s eyes as they lock with yours, he’s clearly enjoying this as much as both you and Steve are.

You watch with mouth agape as the head of Steve’s cock catches on Eddie’s hole, and he sinks into him with minimal effort. Eddie gasps and moans, his tummy muscles tensing up as Steve stretches him out, cock dragging along every little part of his walls.

“See why girls love it so much?” Steve grunts, just sitting there, bottomed out in Eddie’s ass and watching him curiously, “Feels good, right? The full feeling?”

“Yeah, shit, feels really good,” Eddie’s voice is choked, gravelly and it’s sending you reeling. They’re so much hotter together than you imagined, all tangled up together and panting like dogs in heat. Your tummy coils up with need, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you.

They both share a silent look between each other before Steve pulls out, shoving back in as quick as he left, testing the waters. Eddie’s back arches up off the bed, into Steve’s chest and the larger man uses it to his advantage, hooking an arm under Eddie’s back and setting a brutal pace.

It’s dirty, watching them fucking like animals. Steve’s fast, hard, the snap of his hips deafening in the otherwise silent room, just their moaning and heaving breaths breaking it up. Your pussy aches, your nipples are hard, unable to rip your eyes off of them.

Eddie’s face is screwed up in bliss, plump pink lips agape as he moans, his cock left untouched and desperate between them. Steve smiles down at him, and Eddie barks out a little chuckle in return, their demeanour losing credibility for just a moment. They’re probably thinking this is insane, they’d probably be right too.

The pool of precum in the dip of Eddie's belly makes your cunt clench, it's like nothing you'd ever seen before, watching him become a whimpering, messy, begging little thing like this. It does something to your insides that you never expected, clouds your brain, consumes you.

"You really gotta peg him some time, babygirl," Steve groans, unable to tear his eyes away from where his cock is sinking in and out of Eddie's needy, puffy hole, "He fucking loves it, don't you? Only time you've ever shut your mouth your whole damn life, honey."

Honey. Eddie whimpers, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and you can't believe Steve is doing this to him, making him cry and beg silently for his cock, and you love it.

"What's the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?" You cock your head at Eddie and his eyes snap to meet yours, big brown orbs filled with wet tears, mouth open in a quiet moan, "You crying? Steve's cock's pretty big, huh?"

Your voice is sickly sweet, like saccharine, even though the condescending undertone is obvious. Eddie cries out, fingers digging into the meat of Steve's biceps and you let out a barking laugh, Steve joining in and you can tell Eddie's getting close with the way his cock leaks uncontrollably, the head turning purple, begging for release.

"Y'think we can make him come untouched, babygirl?" Steve asks, finally ripping his eyes away from Eddie to look at you. Your breath hitches in your throat, his composure is mind-blowing, the only sign that he's folding is the way his mouth hangs open with every harsh thrust into Eddie's ass.

"Hm, what do you think, baby?" Your eyes flit back to Eddie, and he's struggling, you can tell, the way his brows furrow together, nose scrunching up, "Think you can be a good boy and come for us? Come on Steve's thick cock?"

Eddie nods his head fervently, and Steve doubles down on his efforts, pinning Eddie by the throat with his large hand, squeezing down as he pounds into him, the slick, loud clapping echoing in the room and going right to your pussy. You know you're soaked through, probably leaving a damp patch on Steve's plush chair, but you can't find it in you to care.

“Kiss him, Stevie. He’s begging for it,” You can’t help the way the words keep tumbling out, your arousal getting the better of you as you watch them both. Steve throws a smirk in your direction, leaning forward and capturing Eddie’s lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into the heat of his mouth until Eddie’s gripping at his hair.

It’s wild, watching them going at it like this. You take the bait, the noises and visuals getting the best of you and you pull your legs up, slipping a hand deftly into your underwear. The slickness from your folds soak your fingers quickly and you whine quietly, making sure you don’t distract them as you touch yourself, fingers sliding over your clit in slow circles.

"S-Steve, god, fuck," Eddie's voice is hoarse, the first he's spoken since Steve sunk into him in one swift motion, wet with choked off sobs as his cock kicks up one last time and he's coming, slicking his belly and chest with his load.

You sit there, mouth agape as you watch his cock twitch, blurting out the last little spurts as Steve's hips begin to stutter, in a telltale sign that he's close now, Eddie clamping down on him like a vice clearly enough to do it for him.

"Fuck, holy fuck," Steve's hand slides from Eddie's throat and instead meets Eddie's hip, grip so tight it's going to leave bruises. It's oddly endearing, the way Eddie is looking up at him with half lidded eyes, and Steve is looking back like they're the only people in the room, and you'd be lying if it didn't cause a pang in your chest, "You're so fucking tight, taking me so well, m'gonna -"

Steve doesn't even get the words out before he's coming, shoving into Eddie's ass to the hilt and moaning in his ear, filling the condom with his thick release. You shove any thoughts to the back of your head, ears ringing with Steve's noises, shooting straight to your core.

You might've known Steve wouldn't be chivalrous, with the way he throws himself down on top of Eddie like a fucking heathen, causing Eddie to grunt out a small 'oomf'.

It's like what just happened, never really happened at all, with the way they start play fighting like a pair of idiots as Steve's cock slips out of Eddie, shoving at each other and laughing.

"Get off me, you fucking brute of a man." Eddie huffs and puffs, until Steve is pulling himself back up onto his haunches, letting Eddie breathe. It should be weird, watching your boyfriend and his best friend like this, but it isn't - it's like this was how your dynamic was meant to be, in an odd way.

"I always knew you were a bottom," Steve chuckles, throwing a glance in your direction, and you meet his eyes with a wide smile, "Think it's time we gave your girl some attention, Munson. What do you think?"

You glance over at Eddie who's looking at you with worried eyes and a furrowed brow, almost like he forgot you were there and now he needs to make sure you're okay. You nod your head just once, barely a motion, but Eddie gets it, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, "C'mere, sweetheart. Let us take care of you."

And who were you to refuse these two men the opportunity of pleasuring you?

#steddie smut #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x you #smut #x reader #my fanfic #candy’s smutty stocking stuffers

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ki-yomii · 1 year

Text

hit it/forget it | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 6.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!jk, dirty talk, squirting, creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), enemies to lovers, orgasm control/denial, drinking, slight college au ig??➥ summary | finally able to unwind for the first time in forever, you go to a friend’s party. only somewhere along the way you find yourself in bed with someone you swore you’d never sleep with. it’s too bad he’s not in any hurry to let you hit it, and forget it. ➥ notes | i’m v new to this fandom, and it has started to consume me lol ✌️🥲 ❤️ series masterlist | masterlist | inbox | AO3 ❤️

... Shit, what time is it?

Beams of sunlight pour in through the crooked blinds, stretching across the cluttered floor to flood the rumpled bed with golden light.

It’s so bright it hurts, your eyes watering with the effort it takes to open them as you roll onto your back with a quiet hiss.

Sore and still buzzed, it takes you several minutes to process your unfamiliar surroundings. Your mouth is stale and arid, the unpleasant taste of dehydration heavy on your tongue.

Needle sharp pain lances through your skull, and it’s hard to think let alone focus when it feels like someone’s shoving an icepick through your brain every time you so much as breathe wrong.

So much for a relaxing night hanging out with the guys, you think bitterly, pinching the bridge of your nose. There goes my last day off.

Spent curled up in bed fighting back nausea instead of out enjoying the last little bit of freedom your PTO offered.

If only the rest of the night had gone as well as the beginning...

Most of the group were camped around a game of beer pong when you arrived, already blitzed off their faces from pre-gaming while a few randos loitered around.

You didn’t pay them too much mind, more focused on catching up with your boys. It had been forever and a day since you’d talked to them, let alone seen them in person.

For a blissful moment it was just like old times; the floor sticky with spilled beer, wrestling matches followed by good-natured ribbing, and rowdy trash talk.

It reminded you so much of the shitty college parties they’d throw, you almost cried from the nostalgia alone.

The happiest you’d been in weeks.

Now you had adult bills and an adult life. Your schedules didn’t align like this very often. Getting to catch up and hang out with everyone again was a precious gift, one you didn’t realize how much you needed until you sunk back into the oversized couch, and took what felt like your first breath in months.

Your head was swimming, your heart bursting for fondness - only to choke on your tongue not even five minutes later when the front door slammed open to a round of hyped up chants, “JK, JK, JK!”

All the tranquility evaporated as Jeon Jungkook - the bane of your existence - waltzed over the threshold without a care in the world.

Meanwhile your heart was in your throat as he stood there in all his stupidly attractive glory while the rest of the gang surged forth. They swarmed him with friendly slaps on the back, a 12 pack of beer in one hand, and a bottle of tequila in the other.

He wasn’t supposed to be here - they said... He was supposed to be out of town for the weekend. If you’d have known -- fuck.

You wouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have come. And now you were stuck with him for however long it took you to sober up.

God, you hated him.

Not that you knew why, really.

There was just something about him that got under your skin. Maybe it was the cocky way he held himself, his confidence sometimes bordering on arrogance.

Or maybe it was the constant teasing. (You refused to admit it might be because of how attractive you found him, and how angry that made you.)

Whatever the case, ever since he met you all those years ago, Jungkook’s made it his life’s mission to be as insufferable as possible. Always waiting in the wings with a flirty comment and that self-satisfied smirk of his.

Dealing with him was like dealing with an overgrown - competitive - toddler. It got exhausting after a while.

Far easier to avoid him altogether, even though that mentality came at the expense of your friendships.

You stopped going to events if you knew he’d be there, ducking out of get togethers last minute if you so much as caught a glimpse of his car. Eventually, your absence became accepted - expected even - which further fueled your inherent dislike of him.

As if all the reasons you don’t like him weren’t enough, you were tipsy, and that was always a recipe for disaster. Without your inhibitions halting your tongue, you had no qualms about calling him out on all his petty bullshit.

The particulars are too fuzzy to remember, but you’d been avoiding him by hiding out in the kitchen when he decided to come bother you.

One thing led to another, and he must have said something insulting enough because the next thing you knew, you’d crowded him against the counter.

He smirked while you snarled with distaste, a shot in one hand with the other balled in the open collar of his fancy button up. You thought about how nice it would be to smack that look off his face, and thoughtlessly agreed to a one v one drink off - winner takes all - just to one up him.

Damnit.

You should have left as soon as his ass showed up. And you should never have agreed to his stupid little competition in the first place. You know better than to fall prey to his schemes... yet here you are, so joke’s on you.

This has to be some kind of divine punishment.

All you wanted was to knock him down a peg (or ten). Then his stupidly handsome face, and low, mocking voice egged you on past your limits. Now, you’re in someone else’s bed, naked and sticky, nursing a hangover from hell.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

God, you hope it’s not Jin.

Any of the others aren’t much better, but he’s your bro at heart, and there are some things you can’t ever come back from. If only last night wasn’t a hazy, distant fever dream pockmarked with fitful moments of clarity...

Memories curl through your mind like tendrils of smoke, opaque and sinister. The harder you grasp at them, the more confusing they become; coalescing into a tangled blur of swollen lips, and naked, sweat-slick skin.

Salty-sweet bursting across your tongue as the burning stretch of a fat cock sinks deep, a whiskey rough voice groaning low and heavy in your ear, “Fuck, you’ve always been such a little cock tease, haven’t you, baby? Mm, yeah, just like that. Knew you always wanted me, wanted this. Hhng, shit, I’ve wanted to do this for-fuckin-ever, princess…”

Goddamn Jeon Jungkook, and whatever horse he rode in on.

Of course, you’d get laid after a dry spell, and the only thing you have to show for it is the tender ache of your thighs, the tacky sensation of dried cum clinging to the swollen lips of your pussy, and the vaguest daydream of toe-curling pleasure.

At least the sheets are soft, the mattress plush, the bedspread muted, dark colours; altogether masculine but chic.

The fluffy pillows are to die for, something like expensive cologne threaded through the fabric; citrusy and bright with notes of mellow sweetness that fill your lungs, and cloud your senses with every deep inhale.

A familiar thread in an otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Whoever it is certainly has impeccable taste... which doesn’t help narrow down your list of suspects, at all. They’re all stupidly fashionable in everything they do, meanwhile you feel like a half-decent hobgoblin half the time.

You can’t decide what’s worse: the fact you slept with someone who’s a friend of yours - not many people outside of the core group came last night - or that you can’t remember who it is.

No lie, the temptation to slip out before they wake is hard to resist. But it’ll only delay the inevitable, and you honestly don’t want to do that to someone you care about.

It’s better to face the situation head-on, no matter how much you’re dreading it.

Over and done, quick and easy like a Band-Aid.

The conversation’s going to be awkward as hell but it was a drunken mistake. You’re adults and in a few years’ time, who knows, maybe you’ll be able to look back and laugh. No reason to let it ruin years of hard-earned friendship.

“Aah,” you groan mid-stretch, “...what a fucking mess.”

“Look who’s finally awake.”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

The world screeches to an almighty halt, crashing and burning as all the breath in your lungs catches in your chest. Your heavy eyes pop open so fast you see stars, a field of grey sheets filling your line of sight.

A wave of disbelief threatens to drown you, hysteria following in the aftermath as your mind stutters to a stop.

Stomach turning, your heart slams into your ribs so hard you’re convinced you’ll break a bone. The thought of sleeping with a friend is bad enough, but the truth? So much worse. You wish the bed would swallow you whole.

Why, you lament, why him?

That low, sleep rough tone dripping with arrogance.

It raises your hackles, sets your teeth on edge until you shake with the urge to punt his ass across the room. Never in a million years would you expect to hear that voice beside you in bed.

You wish with everything there is that it’s just a hallucination - but there’s no mistaking who that voice belongs to.

The knowledge sits bitterly in the back of your throat.

“This is a nightmare.”

No fucking way you’re turning around.

You inch to the edge of the mattress, grateful for the distance. The very idea of touching him repulses, repels.

You’re already too aware of how the bed dips beneath his weight, the shared space warmed by the sleep soft heat radiating from his skin.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jungkook scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that, baby.”

A hot palm, rough with callouses, grabs your shoulder. The steel grip tugs you close, unyielding as it guides you onto your back.

As soon as you glimpse the sunlight caught in the tangled briar of his hair, your eyes slam shut.

If you can’t see him, you can pretend he’s not there and if he’s not there, well then you won’t have to face your colossal mistake.

It might be petty and childish but all things considered, you think you’re allowed to be. Waking up next to Jeon Jungkook is earth-shattering. And altogether mortifying when you consider all the thoughts you had before you knew you fucked him.

Of all the people…

He’s made passes for years, and you always blew them off. Now? You groan. They’re never going to let you live this down. You take back every kind thought. This asshole doesn’t deserve your praise.

Before you tell him where to shove it, fingertips skim the jut of your cheekbone. The action effectively shuts you up, your brain stuttering to a resounding halt. Soft and light like butterfly kisses, they trace over the sweep of your flickering eyelashes.

It’s a ticklish reminder that you’re not alone.

You jerk away.

The click he makes with his teeth does N-O-T make you throb. Neither does his persistence, the effort to force you into acknowledging his presence redoubled. He’s stubborn, and altogether not unlike a boy pulling pigtails.

The comparison unbidden and unwelcome, you bat him away with a sharp, “Quit it.”

His voice is far too smug for your liking when he says, “Why don’t you try to make me.”

“Oh, my god.”

This asshole…

Your fingers claw into the sheets instead of his chest, nails cutting into your palms as rage lurks just beneath the surface of your skin. Your breath shoves from your lungs fast and hard. It’s a struggle to reign in the urge to pummel him bloody.

Meanwhile, Jungkook redirects his attention, his hand dipping down to dance over the front of your throat. A rough thumb maps the curve of your jaw, a shiver rolling through your body at the touch.

His low chuckle is the only warning you get before he’s leaning over, the shift in position causing the hard, compact muscles of his torso to brush your side. The fission of awareness that follows in its wake crackles down your spine, steals your breath.

Senses fixated on the sensual glide of skin on skin while pulses of arousal kindle to life behind your navel. Slick gushes from between your folds, wetting the insides of your thighs. Heart in your throat, you steady your voice long enough to say, “Seriously, just leave me alone so I can wallow in peace.”

Warm breath tickles the side of your face, the cool metal of Jungkook’s lip piercing brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs the syllables of your name. “Come on,” he says, “I dare you.”

The hell, is he being serious right now? What does he think this is?

“What are you,” you ask. “Five?”

“Would you stop being so dramatic?”

The first hint of genuine annoyance threads through the words growled against your cheek. His tone low, a warning buried in its depths. Fire and smoke, grit and gravel. You hate how you clench at the sound. Hate how confused he’s making you.

Why is he acting like this is a normal occurrence? You expect him to lord it over you, not act so...playful?

The uncertainty rankles, and your shoulders hike up around your ears. If he thinks he can jerk you around like this, he better step up and out because you’re out of fucks to give.

This is humiliating enough, and you’re not about to relinquish what’s left of your pride.

“Do you ever stop talking,” you continue, ignoring the pulse between your thighs, the crack in your voice, “Or do you like the sound of your own voice that much?”

Your heart pounds in the ensuing silence, Jungkook all but ignoring you as he sinks his nose into your hair. The pleased rumble that vibrates from his chest into yours follows a deep inhale.

“Mm, you smell,” his lips tickle the side of your neck, “really good.”

A whimper works its way up your throat, your teeth barely catching it in time. Fissions of sensation shoot down to your stomach, hot and shivery.

“Shut up. Just stop - stop talking.”

It’s not what you mean to say - you have full intentions of cussing him out, reaching out to touch smack him - but by then, it’s too late. He’s already on the move, a mocking chuckle falling from his lips.

The sound shoots through you, stokes your rage and desire in equal measure until you’re shaking.

He tugs at the plush, tender flesh of your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Y’know,” he muses, “I wouldn’t keep doing that if I were you. You might not like what happens.”

Surrounded as you are, it’s getting harder to think.

To breathe.

To be.

Sweat and sex cling to Jungkook, the scent filling your lungs with ash and burning through your bloodstream until he’s all that remains. Surrounding, smothering, swallowing you whole. “Look at me.”

Shit, he’s close - too close.

There’s a scant amount of space between your bodies, pressed stem to stern. Your tits crush against the hard plane of his chest, nipples stiffening with every drag of his skin, every shift of his body against yours.

His half-hard cock digs into the softness of your abdomen, wet and sticky as it drools into the dip of your belly button which shouldn’t get you as hot as it does. This is so not good.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No, I won’t.”

I can’t.

This is unacceptable.

Fucking him once is bad enough, the only saving grace is that you barely remember the taste of his lips, the weight of his body pressing into yours, the stretch of him filling you to the brim.

If you give in now, even if it’s only an inch…

Well, he’ll take a mile and you don’t have an excuse for why you’ll let him. You’re already struggling with the urge to succumb, to inch closer. There’s no telling what’ll happen if you actually look into those burning eyes of his.

Of course, he doesn’t accept your refusal.

You never expected him to.

“I said look at me.” The thumb that was gently stroking along your face hooks around your jaw, digging into the soft spot on the underside. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You grit your teeth, channel the rising lust into rage. Anything to put some much-needed distance between you before you do something you’ll regret. Like, sleep with him a second time while stone-cold sober.

“Just fuck off, Jeon. This is embarrassing enough, you don’t need to rub it in. You won, okay? Congratulations.”

You refuse to let him have his cake and eat it too. Damned if he gets to hold this over your head. That drinking competition was all his idea, anyway. The victory blooming in your chest is short-lived, thoroughly blown to pieces.

He doesn’t respond verbally.

Fast as lightning, the hand on your jaw disappears only to reappear between your thighs to shove your legs open. He doesn’t waste time, runs his knuckles along the length of your slit without hesitation.

Teasing, testing, humming in approval at what he finds.

The sudden rough touch has you jumping, gasping, eyes snapping open, fixating on his blown pupils. The grin tugging at the corners of his mouth is more a snarl, downright predatory. The metal of his lip ring glints in the light, his teeth bared while he spears you with a hooded, hungry stare.

“That’s it, show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

Breathless, your hips twitch and you clench at the praise, liquid fire pooling low in your belly.

Traitor.

“Jeon - Jungkook, knock it off.”

But you know he’s not going to stop. The ravenous look in his eyes says everything his mouth doesn’t.

“See,” he says conversationally, pausing long enough to thrust two fingers deep into you without warning. Pain sparks, flickers down your spine only to melt into a warm flush of pleasure as he twists his wrist. “That mouth of yours says one thing, but this pussy’s soaked. What am I supposed to think about that, huh?”

“I-”

Any response you have breaks off into a wounded moan, your brows furrowing as he flicks the tip of his finger against your g-spot.

“S-Shit!”

“Hm, what was that?”

A sharp smack stings across your wrist when you reach down to pull his hand away.

“Jeon - I - please…”

“Come on, use your words like a good little slut.”

“I - I can’t - shit!”

It’s impossible to think, let alone form sentences when the heel of his palm grinds against your swollen clit like that. Thick fingers curl deep, stroke, stretch until you mewl.

Every skilled thrust drives you higher, wrings pleasure from you so expertly you’ve half a mind to be pissed. Now you can see why all those girls were tripping over themselves to get with him back in college. As much as it pains you to admit it, he’s got game.

But even then, it shouldn’t be this easy to get you going.

To get your thighs clamping around his flexing forearm while uncontrollable shudders wrack your frame, finger fucked stupid by the sworn enemy.

“Hah.”

If you weren’t half out of your mind, you’d be more offended by the condescending smirk. All you do is half-heartedly smack his side, his free hand darting up to cover yours and keep it pressed against his skin.

You clench down with a whine at the feel of rippling muscle, the sight of his tatted fingers resting over your hand so delicately.

“Looks like I’m doing something right. Fuck, can you hear that, baby?” His movements slow to a crawl, the thrust of his fingers languid and deep. “Listen to how wet your tight little pussy is for me.”

Warmth creeps up your neck and sinks into the apples of your cheeks. It’s as mortifying as it is a turn on, the sloppy sounds of your needy cunt echoing back at you. Sticky arousal coats your puffy folds, every slick, squelching slide heard over stilted moans.

Without a doubt, you’re making a mess of his sheets. Judging by the husky growl of his voice, anything less wouldn’t satisfy him. “Gotta make up your mind, baby.”

He couldn’t sound any more indifferent, but the rough thrust of his fingers, the burning heat smouldering in the depths of his eyes says he’s anything but unaffected.

You whine, writhe, arch your hips to grind down on the hand working between your thighs.

It’s no use.

You get him right where you want him, only for him to flash a devilish grin and pull away. The desperation to get off builds and builds and builds until you’re half mad with it.

This asshole’s gotten you to the edge of cumming several times, only to watch with sick delight as he yanks you back, dangling you over the edge without letting you fall. You don’t even want to think about what this is doing for his already over-inflated sense of ego.

“You’ve been sending me all kinds of mixed signals for years.” He nips the tip of your nose, spreading his fingers wide open where they’re buried inside of you just to hear you squeal. “So what’s it gonna be?”

He’s playing dirty, and he knows it. It’s infuriating that smug looks so good on him. Are you really going to do this?

Ghosting his lips over yours in the barest of kisses, he whispers, slow and purposeful, “All you gotta do is say it. Be a good girl for me, and say: ‘Jungkook, please fuck me.’”

... Yes, yes, you are. But you’re never, ever going to admit that you want him.

Not when there’s nothing you can blame the impatient rise of your hips on, the grind against his palm, the unwavering eye contact that pins you in place. As unbelievable as this is, it all comes down to how horny you are and how good he looks above you.

You admit that he’s an asshole, but jesus, he’s attractive.

Jungkook chuckles, rolls his eyes. “So you’re gonna keep being a brat.”

He doesn’t look put out in the least. In fact, he’s downright feral with the anticipation of breaking you down and fucking you back together.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you begging for my cock one way or another.”

The you wish dissolves into thin air, all your focus narrowing on the flex and shift of muscle as he crawls down the length of your body. Shouldering his way between your thighs, he settles on his belly and rubs his hands along your hips.

Flinching at the first touch of his broad palms, you watch with rapt attention as his strong fingers inch closer and closer to your heat.

Every touch, every slide of skin calculated. Precise. Intent on getting your blood pumping and your pussy throbbing until you’re squirming against the sheets.

That ferocious stare, glittering like onyx in the light, tracks every movement, every twitch; catalogues what strokes get you mewling, what drag of fingers has you shuddering, shivering until you’re a downright mess.

Longtime lovers never paid half as much attention to what got you going, and a one-off mistake is doing a better job than all of them combined. Shit, he hasn’t even really done anything yet.

Jungkook’s as focused between your thighs as he is during training, a singular intent that’s intense and overwhelming. Frankly, it’s unnerving being so seen by someone you’ve considered an enemy for the longest time.

When did he start paying so much attention to you - and how did you miss it?

“Just…” you say, voice a quiet thing that sits in the space between your bodies, “Just get on with it already.”

He doesn’t need any more prompting. Jungkook uses his fingers to spread open your sticky folds. Cool air dances across your core, teasing at your swollen clit as every bit of your pussy is exposed to him.

There’s no hiding the embarrassing amount of slick wetting your thighs or how you pulse and twitch in desire.

He hums in approval at what he sees, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “Thanks for the meal,” he says, brushing his thumb across the hood of your clit before he ducks down with his tongue out.

The firm, full contact lick has supernovas bursting behind your eyelids. He groans at the taste of you, grinds his face deeper into the apex of your thighs. The sound rumbles through your sensitive flesh, your thighs clenching around his ears.

A sigh escapes your throat, and you rest a hand on the top of his head.

Oh yes, a much better use for that mouth of his.

Your fingers delve into the thickness of his hair, inky black wrapped around your knuckles. For a moment you lose yourself in the sensation, senses so high. Every swipe of his tongue, every roll of cool metal along your heated slit as his lips pull at your folds sets you aflame.

The peace doesn’t last, overtaken by the smouldering antagonism that simmers beneath every one of your interactions. A ticking time bomb set to go off at the slightest provocation.

His face between your thighs inspires a dizzying mix of disgust and desire, that he’s even in this position pisses you off beyond belief.

In retaliation for every wrong he’s ever done (the specifics hazy when he sucks on your clit hard enough to curl your toes, the barest hint of teeth), you yank on his hair with as much strength as you’re able to muster.

His neck wrenches back, and he winces. You luxuriate in the petty revenge of it all as spite blooms warm in your chest. Serves him right. Though you gotta hand it to him, he sure knows how to use his tongue.

“You bitch,” Jungkook groans, smothering the vibrations in your slick folds. You keen, bow your back so far you’re afraid you’ll slip a disc. “That hurt.”

For all his complaining, he doesn’t stop.

Quite the opposite.

He dips his head, so you tug at the roots harder while his hands wrap around your thighs, pinning your hips to the bed while his tongue flicks and teases, licks and fucks you open slowly.

The messy sounds of your cunt as Jungkook eats you out to within an inch of your life broken by soft sighs, moans of pleasure, and the occasional masculine grunt. Previous partners have gone down on you before but never seemed to care for it.

Jungkook on the other hand? He’s loving it, eating you out with single-minded ferocity, seeking his own relief by rutting against the bed.

It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen; the wild briar of his hair in utter disarray, sweat slick strands falling over his forehead while he buries his face in you, the muscles of his back bunching and releasing with every slow rock of his hips, his quiet, muffled moans of satisfaction, the ripple of tattoos as he pets at your flank.

He’s not shy - not that you expected him to be in this regard. You’ve heard all the stories about his prowess in bed from classmates and strangers alike.

All his movements are rough and desperate, wet and messy. The careful, slow teasing from before disappearing within the blink of an eye as he becomes consumed with a frantic desire to feel you cum on his face.

It’s not surprising that you don’t last long, orgasming embarrassingly fast, stuffed full of his tongue and fingers.

“Jungkook,” you choke out his name, a broken sound that fades into open-mouthed silence.

The ball of heat in your belly bursts, rushes over you like a tidal wave. You shake apart, pussy clenching so hard your womb aches as a gush of fluid dribbles out of you, soaking the lower half of your body and the bed.

Stars dance in the darkness behind your lids. You’re strung out and weak, incapable of movement, of thought, of anything besides the actual possibility that your bones dissolved when you came.

“Shit, that’s hot.”

Jungkook shifts.

Your lashes flutter. Breathing is difficult. You can’t feel your hands, the tips of your fingers tingling.

He kneels at the foot of the bed, cum soaking the lower half of his face. His lips red and swollen, his eyes hooded, dark and lusting. Pupils blown so wide the iris is nothing more than a thin ring of brown.

His cock juts from his body in a proud line, curved towards his belly. Smears of pre-cum glitter along the valley of his abs, and you have the strangest urge to lick him clean.

Seeing him look so debauched shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and you want to kick your own ass for thinking about Jungkook like this.

Fucking him is one thing, actively appreciating him something else.

But no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the sight of him kneeling and lusting is a sucker punch to the gut. Breathless and yearning, you’re at war with yourself, contemplating round three when he opens mouth.

Again.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?”

The jut of his chest, the arrogance in his gaze ruins everything. Anyone halfway decent with their tongue who knows what a clit is can get a woman off. Jungkook’s nothing special - contrary to all those co-ed’s.

Just another run-of-the-mill asshole who thinks he’s a god. You’re reminded of this now that you’re not cum-dumb, brain dribbling out your ears. And just when you forgot why you dislike him.

“You know what, Jeon?”

If you could move, you’d shove him off the bed and get out of dodge. As it is, you’re in no such position; knees weak, thighs shaky as phantom waves of pleasure shoot from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes.

You settle for a nasty scowl. Half as satisfying, but getting your point across all the same. “I’m still not fucking impressed.”

His expression drops into a bitchy sneer.

You want to smack him, wipe that look off his face with your palm. It would be like all your birthdays rolled into one.

“The fuck you mean?” Jungkook asks, brimming with gruff impatience. Good. Arrogant prick. “I made you squirt.”

Ignoring the pounding of your heart, you scoff and dismiss his words, no matter how true they ring. He doesn’t need to know you’ve NEVER done that before. “So? Even I can do that, you’re no better than my vibrator.”

The muscles in his jaw clench, bunching and releasing as his stormy gaze sears you to the bone. For the first time since he started this little - whatever it is - he seems genuinely pissed, shoulders tense and mouth a thin line.

You swoon, the empty ache inside of you pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

“I’ll fucking show you who’s better.”

“Sure you will,” you simper with a nasty grin, tone dripping with sarcasm.

As soon as you prop yourself up on an elbow with full intentions of hopping out of bed, a set of large hands stops you in your tracks. Panic shoots through you, and any residual anger you harbored fizzles away.

He can’t expect you to — oh, but of course, he does.

“No, not like this,” you say while you squirm, attempting to roll onto your belly. “I can’t.”

Fucking face to face is too intimate.

“Mm, no, I don’t think so, baby,” he croons, tone a mocking lilt as he cages you beneath him. “I wanna see your pretty little face when you cream all over my cock.”

Any response gets lost in a weak moan when he rubs himself against your slick folds, the fat head catching on the hood of your abused clit. You whimper, a sharp spike of arousal slicing through you, almost painful when it follows so swiftly on the tail end of your last orgasm.

You try one last time, voice reedy and thin when you say, “Jeon, please, I can’t - fuck.”

The tip slides into you without preamble, just far enough to feel it but not deep enough to get you off. The smug bastard thrusts gently, your tender, swollen walls suckling his cockhead, trying to pull him deeper.

Pure torture.

Mind wiped clean, embarrassment and protests all but forgotten, all your focus narrows down on how to get him inside you as soon as possible.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asks. “Got something to say? You’re squeezing down so hard. Want me deeper, don’t you? What a needy little slut you are for me.”

“Shit, Jeon, come on.” You pant, biting down on a whine. “Just put it in already.”

“Whatever you say.”

He keeps it slow, languidly works his cock deeper into you, inch by agonizing inch. Your muscles flutter, milk his thick shaft. It takes forever and a day before he bottoms out.

And then your eyes roll into the back of your head, hands flying up to anchor your nails into the meat of his shoulders.

He’s right there, cockhead snug against your crevice. Every ridge, every throb; it stokes the embers of your desire higher and higher, stretched so wide around him you ache; he’s the biggest you’ve had. You’ve never felt so stuffed full of cock before, it’s almost scary how good it is.

The taut skin of his belly grinds against your clit when he gets as deep as possible, pelvis flush with yours. “F-Fuck, Jeon.”

Above you, he shoots a cocky albeit weak grin.

You can’t decide if you want to slap him or have him fuck you into the mattress. Probably a bit of both. He boils your blood, but you’ve never been more aroused in your life.

Fucking hell.

“See, what’d I say? I’ll have you screaming my name in no time.”

You groan, breathing deep and slow. “Are you always such a prick?”

He hasn’t moved, but you’re on the edge, and far from ready for this to be over. The asshole hasn’t delivered. You haven’t been fucked raw, and you’re not leaving this bed until he gives it up. Now if only he could shut his mouth long enough to get the show on the road.

“Bitch.” He rolls his eyes, his broad palms firm on your hips while he shifts until your thighs rest over his. “Ready?”

You snort, shoot a comment about his dick not being that special and more than ready to tack on another scathing retort when he decides he’s had enough of your lip, pulling back and snapping his hips forward in one smooth movement.

It punches the air from your lungs.

Your mouth drops open in a near-silent gasp when the head nudges the spongy tissue of your g-spot. The sudden flood of warmth spreads out to all your limbs, pussy throbbing around him.

Your voice is shaky, spread thin, “A-Ah!”

Jungkook isn’t faring any better.

Hot palms tremble against your skin, the furrow to his brow pulling at his piercing, his mouth slack and glossy. His abdominal muscles tense with every stutter of his hips, flexing and resisting the urge to plow into you at max speed.

“Shit, baby, I forgot how tight and soft you are.”

Incapable of speech, reduced to mindless rutting. His broken moan shatters something between the two of you, and then it’s nothing but bruising kisses, sharp keens, rough hands, and frantic fucking.

He slams into you so hard the bed rattles against the wall, punctuating his filthy murmur of, “Perfect fucking fit, just like I knew you’d be.”

You appreciate his rippling muscles with your hands, caressing the firm lines of his body as you do your best to keep pace. Every other thrust has his cock slamming into your g-spot, your toes curling in the sheets.

It’s too much and not enough.

“Jungkook, I’m - I’m,” you sound wrecked, unable to even finish your sentence. “Please.”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he growls, voice full of gravel and hips never missing a beat, “I got you. Now do it, cum, wanna feel you squirt on my cock.”

A fingertip finds your clit.

Rubs once, twice, three times, and then you see galaxies.

Crying out, you clutch him close as the bubbling pool of heat overflows, crashes into you like a tsunami. Helpless against the rushing tide. Your body spasms, your cunt gushing around Jungkook’s pistoning cock.

The slick slap of your skin almost as obscene as his groan, low and lewd, when you clench and clamp down on his shaft. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

Boneless and panting, you sink back into the pillows and stare up at Jungkook with glassy eyes. The early afternoon light highlights the lines of his body, the curves of his muscles, the splashes of color etched into his skin. Tremors wrack your body as you lay there while he chases after his own pleasure.

“Shit, I’m gonna — fffu-ck!”

One last thrust buries him to the hilt, his cum flooding, filling you to the brim. Face slack with pleasure, his head drops into the cradle of your shoulder. He pets your sides with gentle hands, his breath puffing across the sensitive skin of your neck while his body twitches with aftershocks.

The both of you are weak, fucked out.

You lay under him for a long time, silent except for your shuddering breaths. Your bodies coming down from unimaginable heights. When your arms aren’t so useless anymore, you push at his chest and grunt.

“Get off.”

A flood of cum follows his swift exit, thick seed dribbling down your folds and pooling on the sheets beneath your ass. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, a primal sort of appreciation curling through your belly.

Well, that’s new. And something you refuse to unpack now.

Flopping down beside you, Jungkook stretches, his expression far too self-satisfied for your liking. “For being such a bitch, you’re a good lay.”

Leave it to him and his goddamn mouth to ruin the afterglow.

You shoot him a sour look, dragging yourself to your feet.

There’s a moment where you almost fall, wobbly and off-kilter, before you regain your balance. You clean yourself gingerly with a towel hanging half out of the hamper.

Sore, tender, and vindictively pleased to see the white streak of his cum stain the dark terrycloth.

The asshole laughs at your disgruntled look, lounging on the bed like a lazy jungle cat. His thick arms cross behind his head and he watches you with dark eyes as you bend to get your panties.

Try as you might, you can’t help sneaking peeks at his barred chest. The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s noticed the covert looks. You scowl. The smug bastard.

“Don’t be like that, baby. We had a great time.”

Scoffing, you refuse to dignify that with a response, and tug your shirt over your head.

“Wanna know what I think?”

“Not really, but I’m sure that won’t stop you.”

He ignores your sarcasm and continues, nonplussed, “I think you’ve never cum so hard in your life. I think you’re gagging for another ride.”

You pick something up off the floor, chuck it at his head and pivot on your heel. Anger pulses, white-hot and only partially satisfied by the pained groan from behind you as the object makes contact.

“What the hell was that for?”

“You know what that was for. God, are you always such a fucking dickhead?”

“I think you like it,” he says. “I think you like me - I think you’ve always liked me.”

You ignore the burn of your cheeks, and scoff.

The man’s ego is big enough without you adding fuel to the fire. He doesn’t need to know that was the best sex you’ve ever had. That you came so hard your toes curled, and your hands went numb.

“In your dreams, Jeon.”

Keeping your back to him, you’re about to put on your pants when an iron grip shackles itself around your wrist. You tug, testing the hold. He’s unyielding, spearing you with an intense, depthless look.

“...Jeon?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You blink, swallow and flounder for a response. “Um, I - home?”

He frowns, and tugs you back towards the bed with a huffy sneer, “Get back in bed.”

Wait, what.

You blink, and blink again at the blush stealing its way across his face, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks a soft pink, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours. Can’t help asking, “...What?”

“S-Shut up!”

“I didn’t even-”

“Just come back to bed.”

Still in disbelief of what’s happening, you let Jungkook rearrange you to his liking. You find yourself tucked into the curve of his chest, your nose pressed against his collarbone with his buried in your hair. His lips rest against your forehead, dropping the faintest of kisses to your brow.

“...We’ll talk when you wake up.”

You can’t tell if you’re curious or horrified, but for now, getting a few more hours of sleep sounds like an excellent idea. And, you suppose, it could be worse.

Shacking up with Jungkook isn’t all that bad, so long as he keeps his mouth shut.

#jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jk #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts fanfction #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook fic #jeongguk fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic

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dailyflicks · 1 year

Text

So, what have I learned after all this time? After all the sleepless nights, lying to friends, lovers, myself? Playing this crooked game in this crooked town filled with backstabbers and four-faced liars? I'll tell you what I've learned. One thing and one thing only. I fucking love Berlin!

ATOMIC BLONDE (2017) dir. David Leitch

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aquitainequeen · 1 year

Text

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone season 2 #more explanation about the absence of Ivan and Fedyor #shadow and bone spoilers #sab spoilers #go forth and stream #it's a crooked game but it's the only one in town #I really REALLY want to know what happens next

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blues824 · 5 months

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Its 💗🌸 /Rosa / @toconolaw ^×^

Staff doing secret Santa with magic music arts teacher s/o! But some how teacher s/o's twk familiar which are chinchillas that gets a bit aggressive/ jealous!!

You requested: Secret Santa

The Wiki said Vargas is shorter than Sam 💀

Dire Crowley

The fact that you’re married to this man was mysterious enough. However, you had asked about a possible Secret Santa amongst the staff to add some more mystery to the pot. The rest of the staff members agreed, and so all your names were put into a hat, and you drew a name. You had gotten Professor Mozus Trein, and you immediately noted that you might want to go to a pet store to get some treats for Lucius.

One stipulation in this Secret Santa game was that you put a charm on the hat so that neither you nor your husband could choose each other. After all, you both knew each other quite well, so it would be cheating. After everyone drew their names, you immediately went to Sam’s shop with your chinchilla. If there was anyone who would have what you needed, it would be him.

You actually ran into Crowley there, and who his gift was for was rather obvious, as he was purchasing some protein powder. Once you had purchased everything you were going to, which included new inkwells and a crystal pen, along with catnip, your husband had extended his arm to you. You put your hand in the crook of his elbow, and your familiar hopped from your shoulder to his. It took years for the little animal to even let your husband touch you, but now it seems you both have to fight over him.

Leaning your head on his free shoulder, you spoke to him.

“I love you, Dire Crowley.”

Now, he had a bit of a quirk about him. He never says ‘I love you’ directly back. He says it’s ‘too simple’. Instead, he would say something poetic, and it made your heart flutter every single time.

“In the musical tapestry of our connection, your presence is a delicate arpeggio that dances through the notes of my heart, composing a ballad only the two of us can hear.”

With that you both kissed each other, starting to head back to his office, where the wrapping paper and ribbons that you needed for the gifts were.

Divus Crewel

Being wed to this man meant a life of elegance. He wouldn’t let you settle for anything less. That being said, you were also a professor at NRC, and since you were a staff member, you proposed in the staff meeting that you all do a Secret Santa of sorts. Crewel was all for it… until you put a spell on the hat that would prevent you and him from getting one another. You pulled Sam’s name, and you had to admit that you were completely stumped.

Luckily, your chinchilla has been around, and it learned Sam’s favorite food. That being said, you needed to go to the town below NRC to get the ingredients necessary to make the chicken gumbo that your friend loved so much. Your husband went with you, and a few people paused in the street upon seeing you both, such an elegant and beautiful couple, doing such domestic things… or maybe it was your familiar.

Now, once you got to the grocery store, you both separated so that you could get the things you both required. You had no idea who Divus had gotten, and he did not want you to know until the day you would give everyone their presents. In addition to all the stuff you purchased, you bought some dried fruit for your animal.

You both headed to your apartment, where you started making a huge pot of chicken gumbo. Your husband came up from behind you and put his hands on your hips, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I love you, honey~” You sang softly, before starting to hum as you put all the chopped veggies into the big pot on the stove.

The chinchilla you grew to love climbed from your shoulder to his, and all the way to the top of his head.

“I love you too, darling,” He leaned down to place a kiss on your temple, but the chinchilla sitting on the top of his head pulled a strand of his hair.

He let out a yelp of pain before removing the animal and placing it back on your shoulder, where it was giving him a death glare that could probably kill a very weak human. He mumbled about how jealous the familiar got, and you just let out a laugh.

Ashton Vargas

To be this man’s spouse meant that you probably had a very active lifestyle, or you knew where to duck away to hide from his “couple’s workouts”. Luckily, your chinchilla often took your place. Anyway, at the staff meeting, you proposed that you do a Secret Santa, and Vargas agreed with that idea. Even when you put a spell on the hat that prevented you from getting one another, it was fine. You pulled Divus Crewel’s name, and you had a few ideas that came to mind for your gift to him.

You had to go to town, however, and your husband did not like you going alone. He was a tad worried that something was going to happen to you, so you strolled down the street with your guard dog and guard chinchilla privileges. You decided to get Professor Crewel some gift cards for a new restaurant that has opened up recently. He told you that he was considering going, and maybe he could come back and tell you if the place is a good date location.

Ashton got Crowley, and so you both just went around town to see what he would like. Personally, you would have loved to give him a knuckle sandwich for pushing all of his responsibilities on one of your beloved students, who you viewed as your own children. However, you settled on getting him dumbbells, so maybe he would have a chance to catch the hands you’re going to throw.

Boarding the bus that would take you back to NRC, along with a bunch of students, the Coach that you happened to love pulled you onto his lap, surprising you. You were incredibly embarrassed as a few students started to whisper, but he wasn’t letting you go. Your chinchilla tried to bite him, but nothing came of it.

“Coach Vargas, if you don’t let me go right now, there will be consequences when we get home!” You exclaimed.

However, your husband broke out the puppy-dog eyes. A groan of annoyance made its way out of your mouth before you finally stopped struggling against him, and you resigned yourself to your fate.

“I love you, baby,” The mere amount of love in that sentence made you melt, placing a kiss on his cheek in response. A few nearby students, who you both taught, by the way, started ‘awwww’ing, making you even more embarrassed than before.

“Shush, you! Otherwise you all get detention and you have to help me grade assignments!” A smile was on your face as you made this threat, as you weren’t completely serious. This also made the students laugh, as well as your husband.

Mozus Trein

You two had grown close because of Lucius. Normally, Trein would never be interested in someone so young, as he was nearing the age of 60 and you were in your 30’s. However, your music lured his cat, and as you played the piano, Lucius plopped himself on your lap. A few years later, you were married, and you found yourself in the staff room during a meeting, and you proposed a Secret Santa so as to get into the holiday spirit. Names were drawn, and you had picked Coach Vargas.

Again, a few ideas came to mind on what you could get him, but a lot of them required you going to town. Your husband also had to go, so you decided to go together. Luckily for you, you were able to head to the fitness section and get what you needed. You also called into a high-end gym in the area and you asked if you could purchase a day-pass for a friend, and they let you..

Mozus headed to the stationery section of the store, and you had two guesses on the names he picked out. Your chinchilla was chilling on your shoulder as you made it through checkout, texting your husband to meet you in the square once he was finished. You then headed to the meeting location, enjoying the scenery and the different people that were in the town.

It didn’t take long for him to meet you there, and he also got some other stuff for when you both headed back home for the holidays. You had another Secret Santa thing going on with your step-daughters and your sons-in-law. The older professor took the animal from your shoulder and placed it on his as he held his hand out to you to help you off the bench.

“What a gentleman~ Thank you, darling.” You said as you stood. He lifted your hand to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckle.

“It would be wrong to teach our students to be something that I’m not,” You both started walking to the bus that would take you back to NRC.

“I love you, Mozus Trein,” You said.

“I love you, too, Y/N Trein,” He answered, a hint of a smile on his face as you place a kiss on his cheek and go to board the bus.

Sam

You were not married to Sam… yet. It all felt like a fever dream, as he had proposed to you in the most casual way possible. You both had met at the first staff meeting, where he kept writing on the corners of your notes. However, your chinchilla was not exactly happy about how you both kept giggling with another, and it even bit one of his fingers. Time skip to now, where you had an engagement ring on your finger, your chinchilla is on his shoulder, and you proposed a Secret Santa amongst the staff.

From the hat, you pulled out the name of the Headmage. Sam could see the anger in your eyes, and he was snickering because he already guessed who you got. You looked like the only thing you wanted to give Crowley was a large stick up his derrière, and that just made him burst out into laughter. He himself pulled Crewel’s name, and his friends on the other side had a few gift ideas.

Anyway, you both headed into town and walked around, window shopping. It was like a moment in a Hallmark Christmas movie, where you both kind of dance around each other, laughing and not taking anything seriously. Even though you were yet to be officially married, you were in a honeymoon phase. Well, you were always in a honeymoon phase because Sam never let the romance die out.

To get back to the Secret Santa shopping, you purchased a calendar for the next year. It wasn’t anything special. You also bought some pens, muttering about how the old crow was lucky you weren’t going to shove them down his throat. Your fiancé just laughed it off and got some gift cards for Professor Crewel.

“Are you ready, my imp?” He asked after you checked out, holding his hand out to you.

“I wish this didn’t have to end… I love finally being able to spend time with you, love.”

“Who said we were going to go back just yet? I’m not quite done with you either…” He placed a kiss on your lips, and you felt a pressure around you that you knew wasn’t coming from Sam, but rather his shadow.

“You’re not the only one, apparently,” You giggled.

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r0-boat · 4 months

Text

mother to a werewolf child

Head cannons for my dilf werewolf OC being the father of your kid.

Feat. The cannon ship kid with reader: Forest.

Sfw

Cw: babies, being pregnant, mental health struggles, PTSD, anxiety, hurt/comfort, domestic life in the woods, baby fever, uhh brief non graphic description of birth.

[Author's notes: Forest was created because I thought it would be fun for me to give you a ship kid with my OC. Forest is the only one that's Canon if you ever want to kid. They canonically look like the with reddish hair. so they can be anything you want, and they can be any gender you want too]

Cole is heavily damaged by the trauma that his ex-wife gave him after she had kids with him, so for some reason, the Deep anxiety is telling him that you will soon leave him too. Before his ex left him, when she found out he was a werewolf and he never saw his children again, he cut all contact with her in exchange of her not letting out his secret to everyone she knows.

He wanted to have a child with you. All he wanted to be was a father, but now here you are pregnant, and he's having a panic attack. Silently in his wolf form, he whimpered underneath furniture just enough for his big size. When you tried talking to him he almost didn't recognize you snarling and almost biting you but you wouldn't leave your husband and the father of your child alone. You gently stroked his head as the whining slowly stopped. He apologized for the outburst as a man he knows he should be much stronger than this and he also apologizes for almost biting you.

The pregnancy for the werewolf child was rough. You swore it was almost as if you were turning into one yourself, and your cravings for meat only intensified into raw game meat. Cole was happy to provide his instincts once again, tapping into the urge to provide for his hungry spouse with the child in their tummy. Your hormones are out of control, and you're physically weak. This child is sapping all of your strength.

Your husband, before this point, said his favorite thing to do when the chores were completed was sit down on the couch and watch TV with a beer. He stepped up, he vowed to take care of everything, he cleaned the house how you would clean it, he did everything and more. As much as he'd hate it if his side gig for hunting weren't bringing enough to feed you, he would go back and work driving hours to the nearest small town and work any job they would give him.

He has never felt like this before, and honestly, he loves it. The feeling of being relied on always felt oddly comforting to him. Maybe that's just his werewolf instincts he'd never know. It was tiring. But it was all worth it seeing your smiling face as you finally try to muster your strength to get out of bed. This inhuman child demanded so much of your energy. The person who gave you that beautiful demon spawn was at your beck and call. Cole, in the future, what, annoyingly uses this as an example of what masculinity should be. Men give it their all to take care of their wives.

One night, two crooks broke into your house, and before they could do anything, once they found you helplessly on your shared bed, your husband found you. In danger and potential, Danger got flashbacks to how his ex found him as a werewolf protecting her, and he lost it. He could have killed them that night if it weren't for him holding himself back as the Intruders ran shit scared. He held you tightly, his hand, your stomach, calming himself down. " so what's that like?" You ask. Call scratched his scruffy chin before answering, "It's hard to explain, but it's like having tunnel vision. All I could think about was you being hurt, as if I was in the moment. All I could see was you being hurt and pure anger."

Cole, with nowhere else, put you to deliver the child. He had to call a person who knew how to do it his mother. A werewolf just like him, a kind, gentle red-haired lady. You had met her before and she knew you were the right one and before long you had a wonderful child.

When Cole held his child in his arms, he had flashbacks to win. He had to bust his ass to make sure you were well and fed throughout your pregnancy, and he cried tears of joy. Never once would he forget and regret that day

Forest was... Wild they are intelligent and learn very quickly; however, raising them was like having a little puppy with the intelligence of a human child. However, your dumbass husband was prepared. You had to double-take when you saw the plastic bag with the PetSmart label on it.... it worked... as long as Forest wasn't chewing on the furniture.

Forest in their wolf form looked exactly like their father, albeit with a more brownish-red tint from dad and with one floppy ear.

Cole was beaming with pride he swears it won't be like the last time he'll protect Forest with his life. Cole, we'll teach them everything they know how to find edible plants and hunting. Father and child running through the forest feeling the wind in their fur with you on Cole's back traveling to a small creek to play in the cool water need to go home and fall asleep in Cole's arms snuggling you close, lovingly protectively

#Ro.ocs #oc: cole #monster boyfriend #werewolf oc #werewolf x reader #monster x reader #domestic fluff #baby fever #werewolf #monster fucker #monster boys

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kurogane2512 · 1 year

Note

If that okay, can I please get headcanon of Himiko, Kafka, and Natasha trying to help female reader to deal with anger issues? Like as the fluff and maybe a little angst, if you're comfortable with it.

Yes, of course! So sorry for being late and thank you for waiting <3

Game: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: Himeko, Kafka, Natasha x fem!reader

Type: Fluff (dealing with anger issues)

Natasha

She's very caring and kind, honestly a medicine by herself. You are her childhood friend since the days at Rivet Town, you know everything about each other and are practically inseparable. You have always been each other's best support and had a mutual crush, eventually forming a romantic relationship.

You have always been a bit short-tempered due to how life in the Underworld was but she always knows how to calm you and soothe you. When she was accused of killing her brother out of jealously, you were the only one to be by her side and believe in her. At present, you help her around the clinic and other activities.

"Y/n, my love, could you deliver these medicines to the elders down the street?"

Natasha requested and you easily accepted, going out to deliver her medicines to the mentioned address. On the way, some children from around the town huddled around you requesting you to play with them. You had delivered the medicines and were on the way back when you overheard some people talking about Natasha.

"Hey, don't you think Natasha's medicines have been ineffective recently?"

"Recently? I believe they never worked. Her brother was the true miracle artist, she's nothing compared to him."

"Huh, and to imagine she killed him for that. In the end, her medicines still don't work and we lost someone truly skilled."

Such gossip happened rarely now but it always made you lose control. You ended up initiating a fight with the group, kicking and punching them for mocking Natasha. These were the moments you'd get truly angry; you didn't tolerate any of this. The kids end up calling Natasha to stop you, who hurriedly apologizes to everyone and drags you back to the clinic.

"My love, I have told you so many times not to fight that way...." Natasha pleads while sitting beside you and applying medicine on your wounds.

You scoff, "Hmph, they were making fun of you. I won't tolerate that!"

"Y/n....I have told you to control it, haven't I? Look how you injured your cute face...."

She gently rubbed on your wounds with the cotton swab, making you blush slightly and look away.

"W-Well, it does pain a bit...."

"It does? Well then let me soothe you~"

She turned your face towards herself and planted soft kisses on it, especially on the wounds. Her lips travelled all over your face and you pulled her closer to make her straddle your lap, arms wrapping around your neck as you place your lips on hers. This was the best way to calm you, just be in her loving embrace and feel her body on yours.

She chuckled as she pulled away, "It's so cute how you can be so assertive at one moment then become so childish the next~"

You blush and hug her closely, keeping your face in the crook of her neck while she caresses the back of your head and pecks your forehead. "Thank you, my love but please, don't hurt yourself any more."

"Okay....sorry for increasing your work."

"Hehe~ You'll compensate by working extra for me~"

Himeko

Himeko's nature is quite mysterious; she's motherly and kind on surface but deep down she harbors loneliness. The two of you met in the most unlikely circumstances, then fell in love in even more unlikeliness. You were a researcher at Herta Space Station, one of the closest to Herta. You had met Himeko a couple of times when the Express came there and you two naturally bonded over some shared interests.

However, forming a long-distance relationship didn't turn out as you had expected. She'd be away for months, cruising around in the Express and going to new places, meeting new people. While you were stuck in that floating monument with a hell of a boss to deal with. Herta's antics would already make you irritated enough, then the loneliness from not meeting your lover would also contribute.

"Y/n, have you run the tests I asked yesterday?" Herta asked as she paced around the lab while you were sitting on your desk, looking at your phone and not hearing her.

"Y/n? Oi, I asked you something!" she lightly punched your shoulder, making you quickly stand up and bow.

"S-Sorry, did you say something?"

"Seriously! Stop looking at your phone all the time. This is the third time I have caught you this week already! She'll reply when she has time, get on with your work!"

You gritted your teeth and slammed the table, catching Herta off guard. But you held back your emotions and instead stormed out of the lab and went to your room. You slammed the door shut and leaned against it, fists clenched, when you noticed the lamp of your desk was switched on and a note was kept on it.

You walked up to the desk and picked up the note only to be immediately surprised as it was from none other than Himeko herself. She hadn't replied to your messages nor called in over a week, it was the first time you went so long without any contact. Yet, finding a handwritten letter from her was the last thing you were expecting.

"Dear Y/n, listen, i know this isn't easy for you and I'm so proud of you for keeping up. Wait for me, okay? i long to see you too and when I can....I'll love you dearly." -Himeko.

You were confused as to how the letter even reached here when suddenly a pair of arms was wrapped around you, a familiar fragrance and presence embracing you.

"Sshh~ It's me." Himeko whispered as she buried her face in your neck and hugged you closely. You stood frozen at your place, too surprised to respond.

"Surprise~" she mused and kissed your neck, happily giggling.

"....When did you come?" you coldly asked, making her slightly surprised at your dull reaction.

"Hm? Just some minutes ago. I heard Herta shouting at you, was everything fine?"

"Yes..."

She furrowed her brows and held you tighter, "What is it? Are you not happy to see me?"

You remained silent and she became worried then turned you around to look at you.

"Are you angry about the messages? I'm sorry, it was really busy this past week. And I had already planned to stop by so I thought it'd be a nice way to make you surprised."

You pursed your lips and mumbled, "I thought you didn't love me anymore...."

Himeko's eyes widened and she cupped your face, "What? No— Why would I—?!"

"I thought you wanted to break up and get this over with! I thought it's an inconvenience for you and maybe you found someone better! I....I got frustrated and....I didn't know what to do!"

You shouted and tears formed in your eyes, she was even more shocked. You were about to speak more but she quickly leaned in and placed her lips on yours, roughly kissing you. Your hands grabbed her shoulders as hers snaked around your waist and she pushed you against the desk, making you lean on the edge.

She kissed you deeply and passionately, her way of telling you how much she loved you and that your fears were unfounded. She let go after a while and immediately kissed your neck, licking at a spot and biting followed by sucking, a mark forming on your skin.

"I missed you, my darling. And I still love you very dearly, you have no idea how difficult it was for me without you as well. I promise I won't make you feel that way ever again. Will you forgive me?"

You slowly smiled and nodded, "Of course. I'm....very happy to see you, I missed you too."

Kafka

Oh god, she won't tolerate you being angry at all. Jk, but don't worry she has her ways to quell your anger for sure. You are a Stellaron Hunter and it hasn't been long since you joined. Naturally, you are an amateur compared to veterans like her and Silver Wolf. This also meant that you were incompetent and failed some missions.

You weren't given any major missions but there had been a few important ones where you performed below expectations and angered the higher-ups. Nobody liked getting an earful, and you particularly didn't have fond memories of it. You'd end up thrashing your room after every scolding in order to get out your frustration, and perhaps that's exactly what attracted Kafka.

"Y/n, what is this?! Another failed mission! This is twice in a row, are you even serious about your position?!" Elio shouted over the phone, making you squirm away and grit your teeth.

"I-I'm sorry...I—"

"I want you back at the HQ tomorrow, anyhow. Otherwise....you won't hear from us again, ever."

He cut the phone and you clicked your tongue before standing up and kicking the chair followed by throwing away the books across the room as you cursed yourself for being so weak and incompetent.

"Ooh~ This time the damage isn't much~"

A familiar voice spoke from behind and you turned around to see Kafka standing at the door, whistling to herself as she leisurely walked inside.

"So? What is it this time?"

"....He wants me at the HQ tomorrow."

"My, too bad. But it makes sense. You jeopardized the mission quite badly this time. Do you realize what is at stake here? One wrong move and you will be caught by the Peace Corporation and jailed, or much worse....executed. Do you how realize how troublesome it would be for the rest of us?"

She continued speaking— lecturing, to be precise. Kafka usually didn't care about others, much less her colleagues. However, a part of her seemed to care for you as a lover and partner and her lecturing was to help you improve. But she didn't always choose the right time.

"Don't lecture me about stakes and my incompetence! I wi—"

She suddenly pushed you to the wall behind and pinned you, covering your mouth her hand.

"Sssh, now don't you interrupt again when I'm talking~"

You glared at her, she removed her hand and you were about to talk back but she connected her lips with yours and stopped you from speaking. Her body pressed against you as she went deeper and more sensual, making you forget all your anger and instead be focused on her.

"Hmm~ It's almost too easy to shut you up this way. I wonder how others would react if they knew of this~"

"H-How dare you— mhm!~"

She again kissed you, this time slipping her tongue in and rolling it with yours. Your muffled voices resounded in the room until she finally let go, both of you panting with reddened faces.

"Looks like you have lost all steam now. Call me again in case you need it~"

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #himeko x reader #hsr himeko x reader #natasha x reader #hsr natasha x reader #kafka x reader #hsr kafka x reader #hsr natasha #hsr kafka #hsr himeko #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

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