#brown fishnet tights

[stupidcowboykid]

shoutout to weirdo college trannies for being the only fucking people i can recognize rn.

#this is a graphic eyeliner and crocheted outfits and wicks and safety pins and goth and lolita and chokers and harajuku and platforms and #punk and DIYed and dyed hair and T or E or voice training and facial hair and big headphones and stickers and sunflower lanyards and #and mobility aids and big hats and doodle shoes and sketchbooks and pronoun pins and body mods and braces and buzzcuts and #fishnet tights and colored contacts and natural hair and tattoos and piercings and waist beads and hair clips and etc etc appreciation post #there is nothing wrong with being the white brown hair she/her girls with band tees and shorts as long as you dont get PISSED when i dont-- #recognize you immediately. im face blind and awful with names. #cowboy talks #personal post #college #college struggles #trans #t slur reclaimed #personal #freshman year #sophomore year #meeting new people

[marriedtobigfoot]

Robin is positive that Steve isn't straight. At first, she thought she was projecting. Maybe she just wanted to share another aspect of herself with her best friend, but no. She's very confident now. The way Steve acts sometimes makes it so obvious. He's listened to her talk about how scary it is, being a lesbian in a town like Hawkins, and he talks to her about it like he undertands, even if he doesn't realize it. She roped him into watching a movie with a gay couple in it, and Steve's eyes lit up seeing two men kiss on screen. He once cracked a joke about going on a date with a guy that sounded far too sincere to be a joke. She knows, deep in the depths of her very soul, that Steve is a little bit queer.

And she could prove it if she could just figure out what his type is

She's been doing research, real genuine research into what male celebrities are considered hot. Finding movies with said supposedly hot men and making Steve watch them with her. But there's nothing! No reaction, not even the slightest blush when Harrison Ford was sweaty and shirtless right before his eyes. It isn't until she gets him to watch Rocky Horror that she finally catches something. Tim Curry in all his fishnet-clad glory brings a flush to Steve's cheeks. One that gets even worse when the character dons a leather jacket halfway through. It isn't much, but it's enough.

She mentally tallys everything about Tim Curry in that movie. Dark eyes, curls, makeup, tights, and especially the leather. She tries not to get her hopes up too high, knows that Tim Curry was wearing feminine clothes and makeup in the movie, so maybe Steve was just thrown off and confused, but it's a start at least. She makes a new list of movies, and pays close attention to his reactions.

The real breakthroughs come with The Lost Boys and The Breakfast Club. Lost Boys had been planned, one of her choices designed to illicit a response from Steve. Lots of pretty boys, some with dark curly hair, some with big dark eyes, and quite a few wearing leather jackets. Steve had been interested, that was for sure, a lot more than he had in the other movies she'd shown him. The Breakfast Club was a surprise. It had been one of Steve's picks, and Robin hadn't even been paying close attention. But it was impossible to miss the way Steve's eyes shot to the screen every time John Bender was speaking.

So, Robin has an answer. Steve Harrington liked bad boys. Men with dark hair and dark eyes, clad in leather with attitude for miles. Not what she had been expecting, but she's delighted, to say the least.

The delight only grows when Eddie Munson comes into their lives, and she gets a front row seat to Steve Harrington's Big Gay Meltdown. Eddie ticks off all Steve's boxes. Dark curly hair, big brown doe eyes, leather and denim from head to toe, and he has the attitude. But he checks off other boxes too, ones Robin hadn't even realized existed. He checks off the 'great big nerd' box. Because when she thinks about it, yes. Steve surrounds himself with exclusively nerds. He checks off the 'good with kids' box effortlessly, to the point that Robin almost screams when she hears Steve telling Nancy about his six kids and a winnebago dream, because Eddie basically already has part-time custody of Steve's weird gaggle of gremlin children. He tickes off the 'queer as fuck' box too, if Robin's judgement is any good, and she was pretty sure it was. The bandana in his pocket seems like a pretty good sign, if the zines she had smuggled on a family trip to Indy were to be trusted.

Eddie Munson is perfect for Steve, in every way possible, Robin is sure of it. So needless to say, shes thrilled when Steve finally, FINALLY pulls her into the crappy little bathroom at Family Video and asks her how she realized she was gay. This is going to be the start of a beautiful little journey for them both, Robin is going to welcome it with open arms.

Part 2

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #Robin Buckley #Platonic Stobin #Robin is already wingmanning steve before he even realizes he likes men #And she certainly doesnt miss the way Eddie blushes when they watch Indiana Jones as a group #and Shirtless Harrison Ford is on screen #ficlet #steddie ficlet

[coldfanbou]

After Shoot Pleasure

I had a thought. what if, Natty, but Daddy kink.

Length 2K

Natty X Mreader

You had a good life being the manager of Kiss of Life. The girls were fantastic and treated you well. Despite the looks of Natty and Julie, they were sweet and, as you learned, submissive. Initially, Natty seemed more of a dominant woman, but after one night together, you had her figured out, and you learned her kinks. You ended up creating a different kind of relationship with her. You were waiting in their dressing room; the shoot they were doing was taking some time, and you wanted to rest. You stayed for a while, thinking they would come through the door anytime.

Natty came into the dressing room after finishing her part of the photo shoot, happy upon seeing you inside. “Do you like my outfit?” Natty beamed you a smile as she waited for praise. Natty’s outfit consisted of blue fishnet leggings, a jean skirt, and a tight-fitting tube top. She was given a red coat to put over the top, but that wasn’t your choice. 

“Of course I like it. I did choose it, after all.” Natty’s eyes opened wide for a moment before looking around the room. 

“Daddy, you don’t expect me to do it here, do you?” She hugs you, pressing her mounds against your body. “It’ll be too embarrassing. What if someone sees us?” 

You tilt Natty’s head back and press your lips against hers. Your other hand snakes its way down her body until it's under her skirt. You slide your fingers along her folds through her panties, feeling them become wet. Natty moans into the kiss, her eyes closing as she becomes more aroused.“If I want you, I’ll take you. You’re not going to say no, are you?”

“No, Daddy.” She coos, her eyes fluttering open. “Can I have another kiss? Please?” You kiss Natty again, your tongue invading her mouth. She wraps her arms around your neck. You squeeze her ass before lifting her into the air. You hear her laugh. “Daddy, put me down.” 

“Are you going to help me then, Natty?” You say as your bulge presses against her. Natty grows shy, chewing on her fingertip as she looks at you.

“Can’t we do it at home, Daddy? I don’t want anyone to see me. My body is only for your eyes.” You get harder because of her words, and Natty knows it. 

“I want you now, sweetheart.” You say as you begin grinding her against you. Natty mewls and brings herself closer to you as you walk toward the door with her. You lock the door before heading to the opposite side of the room. “Now, no one will bother us.” You plant your lips on Natty’s neck, gently sucking on it. She begins to grind against you, her hips rocking back and forth. 

“Daddy,” She moans. Natty pushes her chest out; it taps against yours. 

“Do you want me to play with your tits again?” Natty gives you a shy nod. She grabs the top of her shirt and pulls it down, revealing her big tits. Hard brown nipples topped the tan mounds. You lean down, taking one in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the small nub. Natty held your head, whimpering as she felt your tongue flick her nipple.

“Ah, Daddy, not so rough.” Natty felt your hands digging into her ass. You relax your grip and stop playing with her nipple for the moment.

“Natty, I need you to take care of me too.” You put her down, and Natty gets onto her knees. She stares at your bulge, her hands slowly moving toward it. You feel her hand rub it through your pants before she manages to fish it out. Natty’s smooth hand slides along your shaft as she looks up at you. “That’s it, Natty.” You groan, moving her hips.

Natty plants a gentle kiss on the tip of your cock. She gives you a sweet smile after, “I’ll take good care of you, Daddy.” Continuing to stroke your cock, Natty sticks her tongue out, swirling it around the head as she finally takes it in. Her mouth was warm, and her tongue hit just the right spots. You pat Natty’s head, your thumb moving across her head as you moan her name. It made Natty smile; her eyes were glued to your face, taking in every detail. 

“You’re so good, baby. Let’s see you take in a little more.” Natty gave a slight nod and slid more of your cock into her mouth. She moved her hand down to your balls, massaging them as her lips wrapped tightly around your shaft. She pulls away for a moment, one of her hands moving under her skirt. 

“Can I touch myself, Daddy?” She asks, hitting you with puppy eyes. 

Your hand traces Natty’s head until you cup her cheek. She nuzzles it, giving you a bright smile. “I’ll let you touch yourself, Sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” Natty slides your cock into the back of her throat, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she rubs her clit. Natty’s saliva leaks from the corners of her mouth, running down her face. Natty’s moans mix with yours, filling the room. Natty moves down, using her rig and index finger to spread her lips as her middle finger teases her pussy. You begin to move your hips, pushing and pulling your cock out of her mouth. You groan, enjoying yourself as Natty uses her fingers. You could feel your orgasm cumming, and begin slowing yourself down.

You switch from quick movements to long, slow ones. Natty’s tongue moved from side to side; she wasn’t satisfied leaving it along the underside. When your cock sits in the back of her throat, she hums, giving you more pleasure. You hold the back of Natty’s head, reveling in the pleasure she’s providing you. You begin to pull out; once the tip is out, Natty gives it a small kiss. You take a step closer, rubbing your cock against her face. “Daddy, you’re making me dirty,” Natty complains, placing her hands on your cock to stop you. “I don’t want to clean up after this.” She says with a pout. 

You chuckle, “Aw, my sweet little girl doesn’t want Daddy to get her dirty?” You lend Natty a hand and get her onto her feet before moving your hand to her lips. Natty gasps as she feels your fingers moving along her lips. “You’re already a mess down here.” 

“It’s your fault I’m like this, Daddy.” Natty grasps your cock, stroking it slowly. “Anytime I get a taste of this, I get wet, and my body gets hot. You have to take responsibility, Daddy.”

“I’ll take responsibility, Natty.” You lean in close, “I’ll make sure to ruin you.” You push your fingers inside Natty, feeling her warm walls clamp down on your fingers.

“Daddy!” Natty whines as she feels your fingers curl inside her. Her knees get weak, and she has to hold onto you.

“Get to the couch.” Natty grabs your cock and walks to the couch, sitting down. “Not like that, Sweetie.” You grab Natty, move her outside, and place one of her legs onto the armrest. You get behind Natty. “Don’t worry, Sweetie. I’ll make sure we both feel good.” You take off the belt and unzip her skirt, throwing it to the side. You run your hands along her thighs, feeling her skin underneath her fishnets.  Natty’s panties matched the color of her fishnets; you tease her about it, annoying her. You rub your cock against her folds; they coat your cock in her nectar.

“Are you going to put it in Daddy?” Natty pushes her ass against you. You press your hands against it before giving it a quick slap. “AH, Daddy!” 

“You have to be a good girl and be patient.” You tell her as you continue to tease her pussy. You reach over and grab one of her tits, squeezing it in your hand. Natty’s whine was music to your ears. Her tits were soft and jiggled with the slightest movement. You focus in on her nipple, pinching it lightly. “I’m going to put it in now, Natty. I hope you're ready.” You place your cock against Natty’s entrance and push in. Her lips are pushed apart by your cock as you move inside. Natty’s mouth forms an o as she lets out a guttural moan. 

“You’re so big, Daddy.” She says as you continue to shove more of your cock inside. You groan, Natty’s walls squeeze your cock as you fill her. You move your hands to Natty’s hips; you stop for a second before suddenly ramming the rest of your length inside. Natty covers her mouth as she moans. It barely muffles it. You spank Natty, the loud smack making her yelp. “Daddy, wait.” She moans. You move your hips back, pulling your cock out before driving your cock back in. Natty holds her moan in as you start thrusting. You move your hands up to her tits, groping them. Natty lets her moans out, unable to hold them any longer. “Ah, I feel so good! I’m gonna go crazy.” Natty places her hands over yours, helping you squeeze her tits. The clapping of your body speeds up. As you thrust into Natty faster, she pushes herself against you. Natty’s walls clamp down on your cock, “Daddy, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum.” She mumbles.

“Not yet, Sweetie. Hold it.” Natty whines in response. She places her hands on the couch, trying to support herself as you continue to ravage her. You pull her nipples and kiss the back of her neck as you feel your orgasm building back up. “I’m going to cum soon. I’m going to put it inside you.”

“I love you, Daddy. Cum inside me.” Natty looks over her shoulder. You lean in and kiss her, your lips meddling together as you bury yourself inside Natty and flood her cunt. Your cum paints her walls white as you pour more inside. “D-daddy.” She mutters, feeling your warm thick cum fill her.  Natty’s walls clamp down around your cock, milking you for more. Natty’s body twitched as she went through her orgasm. You toyed with her nipples at the same time, making her shudder. You pull out slowly and take a seat on the couch. Natty sits on the floor by your leg, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. You pull Natty closer, tracing her lips with your cock.

“Are you going to help me clean up?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Natty says, still out of breath. She weakly grabs your shaft, stroking it. Natty moves her lips across your shaft, covering them in your cum. You watch as it drips down her chin and onto her breasts. Natty swallows the head of your cock, her tongue swirling around it as she cleans you.  She bobs her head, slowly taking in more. Natty begins to finger herself as she cleans you up. Placing your hand on her head gets her attention. She looks up at you with tired eyes. You give her a soft smile and pat her head.

“You’re such a good girl, Natty.” Natty gives you a hum of approval as she continues to suck you off. Once you’re clean, Natty begins to pull away from you.  She kisses the tip of your cock before climbing onto the couch and laying her head on your lap. 

“I’m going to sleep here, Daddy.” Natty shuts her eyes only to open them when she hears knocking on the door. 

“Hey! Natty, let me in!” You motion for Natty to get the door, and she pouts at you before opening it. She heads back to your lap, not caring about Julie seeing her in such a state. “You started without me?” Julie says while looking at you. “I was looking forward to it,” Julie says with the biggest frown you have ever seen. She shuts the door behind her before sitting on your other side. “You’re going to have to make it up to me, Daddy.”

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #kiss of life smut #natty smut

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage show

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 5k

synopsis. you finally get to meet your favorite band and the lead vocalist takes a liking to you. He decides he shouldn't keep such a beauty to himself.

or

hobie fucks you in front of his bandmates

🍒・．❕warnings. exhibitionalism (sex in front of bandmates), p in v sex, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, oral (m receiving) drinking, smoking, save a horse ride a cowboy, public sex, hobie has a bit of a god complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr, this is a bit toxic but gets sweet at the end y'all so hold on

Backstage Show pt.2

This was your dream. Ever since coming across a small underground punk rock band, The Mary Janes, you've dreamed of attending one of their concerts. Now you were here, your body pressed up against the side of the stage of the small venue, so close to your idols you thought you might faint. Your body was clad in leather, from your skin-tight skirt to the oversized jacket you had draped over your shoulders. Your shirt was torn, black, lacy bra exposed, a beg for attention really.

All of the members of the band were attractive and all had their individual groupies but by far the fan favorite was Hobie-fucking-Brown. Lead singer and bass guitarist. A tall, lean fellow with the most beautiful voice you've ever heard in your life. He was a charmer, a flirt, known for giving the occasion groupie a chance and the night of their life or dating one from time to time.

Your hands grabbed at the edge of the stage as the lights dimmed and everyone in the building began to scream including you. It grew even louder when the band came on stage, the girl next to you was screaming her head off, hoping to grab the attention of Hobie as the thick soles of his boots made the very stage vibrate under your hands.

You stopped screaming when you saw him. Your breath simply stolen away from you but you supposed that might just be the people behind you pressing as they tried to get as close to Hobie as possible. He was breathtaking. All his features were so sharp, from his cheekbones to his liner-framed eyes. You liked the lean muscle of his body, the way his spiked armband pressed into the muscle, how his torn up, sleeveless crop top revealed the valley of his abs and low-waisted pants revealed his happy trail.

You obsessed over the way he smirked at the crowd and sent them absolutely buck wild. He grabbed his microphone and adjusted it, raising it to his height so he could speak into it comfortably. "'Ow's er'ryone doin' t'night?" His accent is thick but not aggressive to the ears nor incoherent. The crowd goes absolutely wild including you, you scream until your voice is raw, hoping that maybe those pretty eyes of his will land on you.

"Er'ryone lookin' good t'night." His eyes scan over the crowd, making their way back to front, side to side. Then Hobie’s eyes landed on you, in all your fishnet, leather, and spiked collar glory. He paused for a moment, his tongue dragging across his pierced lips before the corner curled into a smirk. “Some lookin’ real good.”

And from then on, he had his attention on you. Sure, he certainly had everyone in the room on a leash and the few people in the front were able to hold hands with him for a few milliseconds and get a few acknowledging glances. But he made it clear that you were the one on his mind. He bent down and caressed your face with his silver decorated fingers while singing before moving on.

You grabbed your polaroid camera you had hanging off your side like a bag, using it to snap pictures of what you could only describe as the best day of your life. Everytime Hobie neared, another picture was taken and printed out on the spot. You barely let them develop before placing them in your bag.

Hobie noticed this and came back to you, sitting down with his legs hanging off the edge of the stage, pressed against your chest. “You havin’ a good time, luv?” He asked as his band began to play the intro to the next song. You were so mesmerized, so starstruck, that you couldn’t even formulate words. You didn’t trust yourself to speak because you knew if you tried, you’d say something stupid like you’re in love with him, you’d do anything for him. So you nod like you’re completely braindead, fawning over him. 

“Might I see ya camera?” He pointed to the device in your hand and immediately, you handed it to him without thought. You melt when he grabs you by the back of the head and pulls you in. Hobie kissed you, his tongue pressed against the seam of your lips. It was a moment you never thought would ever happen to you. His lips were on yours and you knew this was your chance.

You kissed him back and let him slip his tongue past your lips. His tongue pressed against yours, a little ball piercing meeting the soft flesh of your tongue. With a little bit more confidence, you grabbed his shirt, slid your hands up his collared neck, felt his skin because you might never get to have this chance again.

He took this chance to snap a picture of the two of you kissing, letting it print out as he placed it back between your hands.

“Hobie! Stop fuckin’ around an get up here, mate!” His drummer called from across the stage with a hint of impatience. Hobie broke away from you with an annoyed sigh as he glanced back over his shoulder for just a moment. When he looked back at you, he offered one of his pearly white smiles. “You min’ stickin’ around aft’a the show fa me, luv?”

You nod, still not trusting yourself to say the right words just yet. Hobie pecks your lips, a goodbye kiss with the promise to see you again soon, before he stands and grabs ahold of his guitar to finish the show. You swore, if you weren’t in love before, you definitely are now. You were in love with the way he drew all attention to himself without even trying, so confident because he had nothing to prove. Undeniably sexy in every single way,

So once the show came to a close and the crowd slowly dispersed across the venue, most finding themselves at the bar for a drink. At first, you had no idea where Hobie was. The place was absolutely packed and the thought of anyone being able to take a single step without bumping into someone else was laughable. But it soon became clear when people began flocking in one direction, girls screaming out his name as he came around, asking for autographs on any part of their body they had to offer and he was happy to oblige. He went around signing people’s chests just above their tits and the bottom of their backs like his name was their tramp stamp.

He saw you between the swaths of people and smiled, wading himself between people to get to you. “There ya are, luv. Been lookin’ fa you.” Hobie tossed an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into the side of his body. He smelled of sweat and the musk of his cologne and you thought you might just cum from the smell alone. You looked up at his towering stature as he greeted other fans. His jawline was sharp, adam’s apple prominent in his throat, his lips thick and kissable.

Hobie looked back down at you. “You wanna go backstage wit’ me and my mates?” A long, slender finger came and wrapped around a single one of your braids. He was so charming, so easily able to persuade those around him to listen to him. He made those around him feel like they’ve known him for years, like you’ve spent your whole life together. 

Finally, you were confident enough to stop acting like you didn’t have a lick of intelligence. You slid your arm around his waist to return the same kindness of intimate closeness. “Of course.”

Hobie raised his pierced brows in slight surprise. “So you speak.” He teased you lightly, placing his hand on top of yours as you held his waist and pulled you closer. He began to lead you towards a door that led to backstage.”Wha’s ya name, doll?” He leaned in to you so he could hear you better as you say, “Y/N.”

He hummed softly. “Suits you. Pretty name fo a pretty girl.” He kicked open the door so he didn’t have to let do of you. He kicked the door closed behind him, making sure it was closed al the way before bringing you around a few short, winding halls until you reached their little hangout spot. All three others of his band were already lounging about, feet kicked up, with some bottles of whiskey and a joint being passed between them. The room smelled heavily of weed and booze but the aggressiveness of it didn’t bother you. You’ve spent your entire life in environments like this.

“Yo er’ryone, this is Y/N.” Hobie introduced you, finally letting you go once you were in an environment he was more comfortable in. They all nodded and greeted you cooly, probably already high. They were all friendly, complimenting you on your outfit or telling you they thought you were pretty in a way that didn’t make you feel uncomfortable while Hobie went to sit down in a dingy recliner next to a messy coffee table.

“Com’ere, pretty girl.” Hobie motioned you over to him and without hesitation you came, placing your things down on the table. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the table and took a large swing of it as he grabbed your hand gently and pulled you into his lap. His hand was on your thigh, fingers slipping beneath the webbing of your fishnets. God, he was so sexy looking up at you like that. The way he gripped your thigh already had you growing wet at the thought of his fingers sliding beneath your skirt.

“Gotta be ‘bout the prettiest girl I done ever seen. Right boys?” He doesn’t look over the side of his recliner at them, just takes another swing of his bottle while staring up at you with eyes telling you exactly what he’s imagining now. You’re imagining the exact same.

They all agree with various sounds of approval, knowing not to tread too much on Hobie's obviously marked territory.

You shift in his lap, the wetness between your thighs growing evermore uncomfortable. Hobie leans forward and begins kissing along the side of your neck, his hand still possessively gripping your thigh. His lips graze your supple skin so lightly it sends shivers through every nerve in your body. "Hobie."

"This can stop. You just say the word." He made sure to let you know that you had no obligation to do anything with him. You appreciated the gesture but you would do anything short of murder for him. This was a moment you've been dreaming of for so long, you were scared that this very moment right here was a figment of your delusional imagination and you'd be waking up in your bed any second now.

But his lips kissing you was very real, his hand stroking your hip now was the realest thing in your world right now.

“You wanna drink, luv?” Hobie asked you, shaking the bottle in front of you. You were never much of a drinker but you didn’t mind a few sips here and there and you were sure you’d need some liquid courage for a moment like this. You reached out for the bottle but Hobie quickly pulled it out of your range and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Lemme do it. Get on ya knees fa me, doll.”

You don’t even think about refusing. Not an ounce of hesitation plagues you as you slide off of his lap and onto the floor in front of him. You get on your knees, leaning forward, back arched as you positioned yourself between Hobie’s legs. You thought you were probably flashing your panties to his bandmates but you didn’t care. How could you when Hobie drabbed your chin with those beautiful fingers of his, nails painted a solid black. “Open ya mouf.”

You do so. You part your lips and let your jaw hang open as he tips the bottle against your lips and lets the bitter liquid pour down your throat. He’s sure not to give you too much so you won’t choke. You close your mouth and swallow, looking up at Hobie through hooded eyes and long lashes.

“Go’ myself a good girl, didn’t I?” Hobie pet your head as you placed it on his thigh much like a pet who worships their owner. “You’d do anythin’ fo me, wouldn’t you?” He asks because he knows that you’ll undoubtedly say yes. You love the way he pushes your hair out of your face to get a better view of you as you look up at him like he’s more than just a man.

‘You’d do anything for your god too, wouldn’t you?” You ask him, making it very clear how you saw him and that there was very little you wouldn’t do for him. He was your god, your religion, your everything. You were a devout disciple, on your knees ready to worship.

Hobie smiled at your words. He liked you, knew from the moment he saw you that you’d be entirely worth his while. “Why don’t you show me how much you love ya god then.” He relaxed into his chair, slouching as he took another sip. His hand was in your hair, pulling you closer to the growing bulge in his pants. “Would you like to be the sta’ fo a bit, put on a lil’ show fo the rest of us?”

You glance behind you at his bandmates, all of them staring at you, waiting to see where this would all go. When you look back, Hobie’s staring at you with a raise brow. A question. Do you wanna? I won’t make you, luv. You drag your tongue over your lips, wiped clean of your lipgloss from his kiss earlier. You bit your lip and reached towards his belt to undo it. How could you turn down a moment like this? The thought of them all sitting there watching as you suck off their leader made your pussy tremble. You’ve always played with the idea of people watching. Tonight had to be a dream.

You undid the buckle of his belt and pulled it from its slot before moving into his pants. Hobie assured you to take your time as you reached into his pants and pulled him out of his restraints. He was already half hard in your hand, weighing heavy against your palm as blood rushed into the appendage.

You wet your lips again as you began to stroke him. Your delicate fingers wrapping around and pulling at the smooth, satin skin of his cock. He had to have the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, nice, long, and veiny with a Prince Albert’s piercing sitting pretty and shiny at the tip of his cock. You salivated at the sight of it as it grew harder in your hand. You bite your lip and glance up at Hobie who’s already smiling at you. “Like what ya see?” You love what you see, wanted him to shove it down your throat.

Hobie takes over for you, grabs his cock and jerks it a little harder. Little beads of pearly precum dripped from his slit and rolled down the underside of his cock before meeting his hand. He takes his time, staring at you and that pretty face of yours that caught his attention in the beginning.

He tapped his length against your cheeks in a way that was almost degrading but you leaned into it, stared into his eyes as his bottom lip caught on his teeth. You let him smear his precum across your plush lips before parting them to let him drack his tip against your tongue.

“Got yourself a proper lil’ slut, didn’t you Hobes?” One of the other band members chuckle as you part your lips further and stick out your tongue. The others laugh with him including Hobie who takes up your hair in a makeshift ponytail and presses your head down, sliding his cock into your mouth as far as you could take him. “Gotta nice lil’ wet patch on ‘er panties.”

You found a guilty pleasure in the way they talked about you like you weren’t even there, an object of pleasure. Hobie used your mouth as his own personal toy, controlling the way your head moved up and down his cock, pressing to your limit, until you’re gagging and choking on him. He slapped your cheek lightly. “Eyes up here sweet’art.” You look up at him, eyes swelling with tears each time his length slid down your throat and triggered your gag reflex.

His head hell back against the cushion of his chair as he moaned lowly, “Relax tha’ throa’, doll.” His eyes never left yours no matter how good that pretty little mouth of yours made him feel. Hobie let his own mouth fall open as you took him in down to the hilt, your nose pressed to his pelvis. “Gooood fuckin’ girl.” He holds your right where you are, watching with a sadistic smile as you gagged. Your hands gripped his thighs to brace yourself, tears streaking your cheeks.

Hobie let you go after a few seconds and you fall back, panting for air with your lips slicked with saliva. The moment you caught your breath, you had your lips wrapped around him again, bobbing your head with an eagerness to please, to put on that show he was talking about. You are your back more, the outline of your pussy revealed behind your panties for his bandmates to gaze at.

“Keep goin’ jus’ like tha’.” Hobie was practically falling apart beneath you, his breathing hitching and his eyes barely open while he watched you take him down like a champ. “Fuck…ya killin’ me, doll.” His voice was breathy yet tireless and came out like a low rumble that only made you wetter. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ mad.”

But Hobie wasn’t ready to cum just yet as pretty as you’d look swallowing his cum. “Get on up fo me.” He pulled you back by your hair and you released him with a sticky pop of your lips. He made you to stand up between his knees and held you by the waist, his hands so large it made you seem small by comparison.

“Le’s put on a real performance.” He whispered to you with a smile that could only be described as devious. His hands were suddenly hiking up your tight little skirt to circle your waist, fingers between the netting of your stockings, tearing them open enough to create a whole right at your cunt. “Turn ‘round.” And you did, following every movement of his hands as they positioned your body. Until you were sitting on Hobie’s lap with your legs spread, feet on the armrests of his chair, panties pulled to the side so everything you held so dear was on display for his bandmates to oogle at.

Hobie wrapped an arm around your waist and used his free hand to slide his saliva-soaked cock between the equally soaked lips of your puffy little pussy that’s been screaming and begging to be fucked. You tremble as his piercing dragged across your sensitive little clit. “Already nice and wet. Din’t even needa touch ya.” He chuckled into the shell of your ear before kitten-licking it.

It was easy to slip in, hardly an resistance at all. You whimpered at the way he could so easily push that thick cock of his into you, at how he stretched your walls. You turned your face in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from the prying eyes of the men sitting on the couch across from you. They all watched intently, something predatory sparkling in their eyes at the sight of you.

“Uhn-uh, luv.” Hobie hissed out as he bucked his hips up into your little cunt that so eagerly accepted him. “Look at ‘em. Look at wha’ you’re doin’ to ‘em.” You turn your head to glance and find them all palming themselves through their pants. Shameful and embarrassed, you hide your face again and attempt to close your legs but before you can, Hobie’s are already pinning them apart, keeping you just how you are.

“Start bouncin’ then.” Hobie forces you to move your hips, rocking them against his cock as your greedy little pussy takes in more of him. He slaps your exposed pussy red and raw when you take too long to move, leaving you sensitive and teary-eyed. “I said start bouncin’, or are you stupid now?” His voice bites a little with a command but just between the two of you in a hushed whisper, “Jus’ tell me to stop if you don’ wanna go on, sweet’art.”

You shake his head at your offer, bracing yourself as you begin to flex your thighs and lift yourself up before dropping right back down on his cock. You let out a broken little moan as he plunges back in, the curve of his length pressing into your walls just right. That wonderful piercing of his only amplifies the pleasure. “Hobie~” You whine his name as he soothes his the rough pads of his fingers against your aching clit as a reward. “Keep goin’.”

You ride like your very life depends on it, crying out his name like he might be your only chance at salvation. You don’t care that your thighs are burning as you push them to their limits. You’re cock-hungry and everyone in the room knows it. The sound of your creamy, wet pussy being fucked and your whiny moans mingle with Hobie’s deep, guttaral ones. He hisses out his words like he’s barely holding on to sanity. “Bes’ fuckin cunt ‘ve had in a long time.”

And when you simply couldn’t keep going as you were, your legs exhausted from carrying up and down and back up again, Hobie grabbed you, held you up, and fucked you just like that. The way he fucked you was borderline cruel, abusive even. He bullied his cock into your pussy and played with your clit like the strings of his guitar, leaving you so wet that your thighs were slick with it. Skin clapped against skin, your faces’ shimmering with sweat.

“Pull up ya shirt… let’ em see your tits.” Hobie let out between breathless pants. You did just that, pulling up your shirt enough to let your breast free. They bounced with his harsh thrusts, the peaks of your nipples pebbling at the cold air coming in contact with them. You could tell they were all trying to restrain themselves, swallowing harshly at the sight of your near defiled body.

“H-Hobie…I’m– cumming!” You could feel it falling upon you much like a tsunami. It seized your body and held you, drowned you. Your pussy clamped down around him and trembled with it as Hobie played with your pussy and dragged you through it. It had no mercy on you, left you feeling dizzy and your mind foggy. Your back arched, muscles twitching against your will, and your pussy left white streaks of cream against his cock.

Hobie wasn’t done with you though. “Turn ‘round, doll.” You hardly even removed yourself from his cock as you turned around on his cock, now facing him. Instinctively, you began to ride him, your hands grasping his shirt for leverage as he leaned back and enjoyed the show for himself. 

“Lookin’ all pretty and fucked out, aren’t ya luv?” He reached across you towards the table for a joint. He placed it between his lips and grabbed a lighter to light it, still watching you as he took his first drag and tossed the lighter to the side. He loved the way your tits bounced in his face, the way there wasn’t a single thought in that pretty, empty head of yours. Like his mates said, a proper slut for him.

He blew the smoke into your face and slapped your ass before grabbing your waist. “Should keep ya ‘round. Nice way to relax after a show, yeah men?” Hobie looked at his mates already rubbing one out themselves, too sexually frustrated not to do anything. He took another drag and let out the smoke in a breathy moan. “Fuckin’ me up here, doll.” He gritted out while grinding his hips into you. “Migh’ haveta keep ya ‘round. Can’t get good pussy like this nowhere else.”

Hobie pulled you in to kiss you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You could still taste the remainder of your cherry lipgloss mingling with the alcohol and weed in his breath. You wondered if it was possible to sew two people’s lips together because you never wanted to stop kissing him ever again.

He began to smile into your kiss, a wicked idea coming to mind. “Lemme give you a autograph, luv. Get up and get on ya knees again.” You didn’t understand at first until you felt his cock twitch with the telltale signs of an orgasm on the horizon. So you got up, a string of cum leaving you two connected before breaking. You got on your knees again.

“Gotta nice pair o’ tits there.” Hobie wrapped his ringed fingers around his length and began violently jerking himself. You look at him, slick lips parting to speak. “Can you sign them for me?” You ask like one of his fangirls only hoping to get a moment like this one.

He held his joint between his fingers and sat up a bit more as his stomach tightened, abs revealing themselves even more. “How can I refuse a fan?” His brows furrowed with concentration as you push your chest forward in front of him, pressing them together with your hands.

Then his face relaxed all at once, his lips falling open with a single moan as he came. His cum came out in ribbons of white, landing on your chest in intervals as he twitched. Hobie was the prettiest when he came, every muscle in his face relaxing except his brows that seem to tense. You like how he coated your chest, how his cum rolled between the valley of your breasts as down your naval.

You felt owned now, possessed, marked. And you swore you’d never be able to have sex with another man again after tonight. You watched Hobie in utter admiration as he placed his joint back between his lips and reached back to the table to grab your camera. He snapped a picture of you. Your defiled body, your owned body, immortalized in a picture.

Hobie grabbed the picture as it printed out and waved it about through the air until it developed then placed it down on the table. “Come on, less get you cleaned up, doll.” He made himself decent before helping you up onto your shaky feet. He glanced at his mates as you two passed them, them all still wanking off, and he scoffed. “Pervs.”

“Fuck you, Hobes!”

He took you to the bathroom, used some wet paper towels to clean his come from your body and fix up your outfit as best as he could. “Sorry ‘bout the stockin’s, luv. I’ll buy ya new ones.” You didn’t expect him to be so sweet, no one has ever cleaned you up afterwards. Your face was hot as you looked at him. “Can I… have a second?” You asked softly.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Hobie shrugged, leaned down and kissed your cheek right at the corner of your lips. He offered a sly smile before leaving you to yourself to go back and joins his friends. You could hear him behind the door, “Could you wankas put ya…well…wankas away?”

You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water. You tell yourself that this isn’t real. You tell yourself you didn’t just have the best sex of your life with your idol. The more you splash your face, trying to wake yourself from thai dream that can only end in disappointment, the more you realize this isn’t some pathetic figment of your imagination.

When you come out of the bathroom, everyone’s hanging around. Hobie’s back in his chair with his joint and the polaroid he took in between his fingers. Your things were in his lap meaning you’d have to go to him to grab them.

He stands for you, putting out his joint in the ashtray much to the dismay of the others. He takes your things and brings them to you. “There ya go, sweet’art.” Your fingers brush when you grab them from him and he gives you the picture too. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you. “Hope to see you at our next gig.”

You think he must say that to all the fangirls he hooks up with. You’re nothing special you tell yourself. You glance at the other members wearily. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“You too, darlin’.” They’re all sweet despite watching you get fucked by their friend and jerking off to it. Do they do that kind of stuff often? Was this not an uncommon occurrence for them?

You’re almost humiliated as you leave, stalking towards the nearest exit to take a cab home. You look at the polaroid of yourself, on your knees with cum on your chest. You rub your thumb over it and when you shift it into your other hand to put it in your bag, you see ink smeared on your fingers.

Your brows furrowed and you flipped the photo to find a number scribbled down on the back. Your fingers smeared the ink but not enough to make it incomprehensible. All the numbers were clearly readable, carefully placed like he wanted to ensure you’d be able to read it.

You almost had a heart attack right then and there. There was absolutely no way he was just giving out his number to anyone who came across his path. This meant you were special, something out of his ordinary. You squealed, jumping right there on the cracked sidewalk, gaining the attention of those around you.

Holy Shit.

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown fic #hobie brown #rockstar hobie #black!reader #spider punk fic #spider punk #spider punk smut #hobie brown x reader smut #hobie brown x black!reader

[authorhjk1]

Interlude: Doctor appointment turns into bunny breeding sessions

( Kim Minji X Male Reader)

You sigh as you look around the waiting room. It has been a couple of minutes now, since the two girls left. About to stand up, you suddenly see one of the doors open.

The woman in the doorframe makes your eyes widen. Who is she?

The Korean woman wears a black jacket and a pair of shorts. The shorts almost make it look like she isn't wearing anything to cover her core at all. Her black choker and leather boots complete the all black outfit. It looks like she is also wearing fishnets, which barely even reach her knees.

"Ugh! I hate it here."

She slumps down on the chair on your left. Only now you realize she is also wearing a black top.

"How come?"

You decide to talk to her. This isn't an actual waiting room after all, which means she must live here. And that means, she is probably in on all this.

"The doctor is crap."

She doesn't even look at you as she blows a bubble with her gum.

"Which one?"

"The one with the pink hair."

She has her legs and arms crossed, while she sits next to you.

You frown. The two girls you met at the airport had brown and black hair. Whom is she talking about?

"What's your name?"

"Minji. Yours?"

"(Y/n)."

She offers you her fist and you give her a fist bump.

"Is something going on downtown?"

"What?"

You look at her in confusion.

"Is something wrong with your..."

She deliberately looks down at your crotch.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because the doctors here are specialized in that area."

Minji blows another bubble, letting it pop loudly.

"I see."

It's silent for a couple of moments, before she asks again.

"So? Something going on?"

You ponder if you should tell her. This is still fake. So maybe you will get something out of this. You eye her from the side. Her face looks like that of an angel, although she is currently going for the opposite persona. Her black top is low cut, which means you have no trouble enjoying the view. Because the lower part of her jacket is covering her shorts, it looks like she isn't wearing any pants. Her long, creamy legs are on display.

"I produce too much.... You know?"

You glance at her face as she looks at you.

"I see."

She nods while blowing another bubble.

"And you?"

She shrugs her shoulder.

"I have this kink. Although the doctor says it's an addiction."

She scoffs, before shaking her head.

"What kind?"

You might have sounded a little too curious.

Minji ignores your question as she suddenly looks around.

"Hey, can you make sure no one comes in?"

A little surprised, you nod, before seeing Minji leaving her seat. She walks towards the "counter" before leaning over it. Her jacket rides up as she reaches for something. Her tight black shorts hug her butt perfectly, giving it a perfect shape.

But your eyes are quickly caught by something else. Black ink is decorating her left thigh, right above the back of her knee. The tattoo seems to be made out of three small butterflies.

Once she found it, she turns around, holding up her phone.

"Those idiots took it away from me. They said, I can't stop reading this stuff, but they are just overreacting."

"What kind of stuff?"

You watch Minji walking back to her seat next to you.

"I keep reading fan fiction about me. I'm a rock star, you know?"

"Oh, really?"

"Surprising, right? A sweet girl like me?"

She wiggles her eyebrows mockingly, before turning her phone on.

"And what kind of fan fiction?"

"I found this amazing story on Wattpad least year. The author's name was something with HJK? I dunno. But it was deleted. Luckily, I took a few screenshots."

"And what is it about?"

Minji winks at you.

"It's about how I get my back blown out by the reader."

You don't know how to respond to that. You are glad she keeps talking.

"I'm supposed to have a throat fuck kink, according to the story."

"And is that true?"

You are surprised at how freely she talks about this.

"Well, yeah. I like it. But that's not my favorite thing."

You see her opening her Tumblr account "timetobreedminji". After seeing her username, you are already able to guess, what her favorite thing is. Still you ask her, wanting to hear it from Minji in person.

"And what is your favorite thing?"

The Korean girl looks up from her phone to look at you. Her eyes are big and dark.

"Beeing bred."

Her eyes suddenly become a little darker as if you just triggered something in her.

"The doctors try to convince me, that I'm delusional, but that's not true. Do you know, why my fans call me bunny or rabbit?"

You shake your head. You expected another kind of name for a rock star, but you are in Korea after all.

"Because they all want to breed me."

"Really?"

You don't sound as surprised as you thought you would. Minji nods her head.

"The doctors told me, I'm fertile as hell. Perfect for breeding."

Her phone is lying forgotten on the seat next to her. Glancing at it, you read the title of the post, which she is currently reading. "Doctor's appointment turns into bunny breeding session"

(Author's note: "What the...??")

Minji looks around the room, before sighing heavily.

"Do you know how long it has been, since someone tried to breed me?"

You shake your head.

"About a week ago. I feel so empty."

By now, your dick in your pants is already hard. Forget about Yoohyeon and SuA. You have to fuck Minji first.

"Wait a minute."

She scans you up and down.

"You said your balls are producing too much cum, right?"

You nod your head hesitantly. Minji makes this roleplay stuff feel very real.

"Isn't that great for breeding?"

You should have known this question would come eventually.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the more you cum in me, the higher the chance you breed me properly."

"But I have an appointment soon."

Minji rolls her eyes in annoyance. Her rock star persona shining through.

"I don't give a fuck. Those doctors are dumb anyways. Wouldn't it help us both?"

You think about it for a moment. She is not wrong.

"You would lose some of that cum of yours and I can be your breeding bunny. That's a win-win."

"I don't see the harm in that."

As soon as you agree, Minji straddles your lap.

"Finally I'm gonna get some cum in my belly."

She whispers, before kissing your lips.

You hold onto her thighs to steady her on top of you. Her soft, creamy skin feels smooth underneath your palm.

Minji grinds on you, rubbing her center against your own. She can feel your hard cock in your pants, which makes her even wetter. As she imagines, how you would cum in her, you start to attack the flawless skin on her neck.

You immediately realize, that Minji only has one goal in mind. She already starts to undo your belt. Having sex is just a way to get what she wants. It's just a means to an end. You wonder if that's the role she is playing, or if that's actually her.

You lift your hips as you feel Minji pull off your pants and your underwear in one go.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have time to suck you off."

The Korean girl's breathing becomes faster as she reaches for your cock.

"I just need your cum in me. As soon as possible."

She let's some spit fall out of her mouth and onto your dick. Her hand makes sure that it's all wet. Still a little surprised at her speed, you are only able to watch as she lifts her hips.

"Get them off me. Please."

She sighs, while waiting for you to pull her pants down as well. The black fabric is tighter around her body as you expected. It takes a second to peel her shorts off of her. She isn't wearing panties, only a small stripe of hair decorates her lower region.

"Put it in already."

Her demands turn into whines as she waits for you to act. You guide her hips towards you, while Minji points your cock at her entrance. As she sinks onto you, you feel her snatch taking in your dick. Minji's walls have a tight grip on you as she lowers herself further.

"If I knew you were so big, I would've taken my time with it."

She sighs as you run your hands along the smooth skin of her thighs.

"I wish I could've felt these around my head."

You tease her as you squeeze her thighs slightly.

Minji sighs heavily, already stuffed with half of your cock. She leans forward, pressing her clothed chest into your face. You feel her hard nipples graze your cheeks as Minji takes a fistful of your hair.

"I'm such a needy bunny, I know."

She pushes your head further into her chest, while she slowly starts to ride you. When she Minji sinks down on you fully, her face is on level with yours. When she moves upwards, she presses your head into her chest. You take every opportunity to kiss her skin as you feel her pussy around your cock. You can feel Minji relaxing and contracting her muscles with the rhythm of her movements. She really does try her best to make you cum as fast as possible.

You wonder, how long you can hold out, not wanting to see this end too soon. You reach behind her to take handfuls of her cheeks. Minji moans into your mouth.

"Just use me, until you cum."

Before you can answer, you are faced with her black top again. When Minji sinks back onto your cock, she throws her head back, letting her hair look like a waterfall behind her.

You start to take control of her bounces, making her go a little faster. Much to her enjoyment it seems as Minji releases moan after moan.

"Make me ride your cock, baby."

Her walls squeeze you tighter, her pussy desperate to milk you dry.

"Fuck, Minji I-"

"Yes! Yes! Cum in me!"

She feels your cock twitching inside of her. You squeeze her ass harder, trying to hold on a second longer as you practically pull her onto your cock, before pushing her off again.

"Breed me! Breed this little bunny!"

You feel pain on your scalp. The result of Minji trying to hold onto her own high, wanting to climax when you cum as well.  It makes your head roll back too as you try to ease the pain.

"Give it to me! Breed me!"

"Fuck."

You moan as you finally unload inside of Minji. You hold her down, her pussy sealed around your cock tightly. The young woman shakes slightly on top of you as she feels her orgasm washing over her, while your cum floods her insides.

You open your eyes, when you finally come down from your high. Minji's chin rests on your shoulder as she tries to catch her breath. This was quite short. And yet, really good. It's evident that she has some experience. You feel your cock still inside of her as Minji slowly rolls her hips.

"Do you think you can give me a another load? Just to make sure you are breeding me properly?"

You could have said no. Maybe you even should have, knowing that the other two girls are waiting for you. And yet, you can't help yourself.

You wrap your arms around her, trapping Minji against your body. The two of you stay connected as you stand up. Although Minji is small and light it's still hard not to trip. You carry her to the kitchen counter as you feel her lips on your neck.

"Drown my pussy in cum, baby."

She whispers into your ear as you sit her down on the counter. She unlocks her legs behind you, enabling you to take them into your hands.

Minji lies down, her back pressed against the cold surface. She can feel it underneath her jacket. She is still wearing her boots and fishnets as you put her ankles onto your shoulders. You have a great view of Minji's pussy as you let your hands glide along her legs. Your fingers dance over the dark butterflies on her skin, until they reach her waist.

You see the young woman nodding. Her gaze a mixture of excitement and need.

Slightly pressing down on her belly, you almost pull out completely.

Pushing back inside, you hear her pussy making wet sounds. You push your cum further into Minji as you start to rock her world on top of her own kitchen counter.

"Oh fuck! So much cum!"

She feels your warm cum inside of her as you fuck her hard.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Minji arches her back off the stone surface. You hold onto her thighs, feeling one of her ankles slowly slip off your shoulder. The young Korean seems to interpret your actions differently.

"Yes! Put me in a mating press! Breed me!"

She moans loudly, almost shouting. You pull her further towards you, making her ass leave the surface. Leaning over her, you push Minji's legs towards her body. You start to fold her in half. Her boots reach her head and she holds onto her own ankles. You place your hands on the back of her thighs, one directly on her tattoo.

Her pleading face makes you fuck her harder. Now you are slightly above her, hitting even deeper spots.

"Fuck yes! Push your cum further!"

Minji mewls as you keep pounding her. You feel your muscles slowy getting tired as you use all your strength to push into Minji. She looks so sexy like that. Lying on her back, her ankles in her hands, unable to do anything but take your pounding.

Your thumb grazes over her butterflies. You are not a fan of permanent tattoos on women, but fake ones like these are very sexy. This one is quite small, but seductive. You wonder how Ahin would look wih a tattoo. Maybe on her back? A big one?

You lose your thoughts as Minji's pussy brings you back to reality. It squeezes your cock tightly, trying to drain you again. You feel your orgasm approaching as you fuck Minji into the counter.

"Gonna cum!"

You are surprised she cums so early, you expected her to orgasm with you again. She reaches around her anke with her left hand, covering her mouth with her hand.

Minji's head rocks back and forth along with her body as you drive her towards her orgasm.

"Fuck!"

Her scream is muffled, yet audible. Her body shakes, a little harder than the first time, as Minji cums around your cock again. It makes her pussy tighter, bringing you closer towards the edge as well.

"Fuck, Minji. I'm gonna cum in you."

"Yes!"

Her hand has left her mouth as she nods her head vigorously.

"Fill me up again! Breed my little bunny pussy! Give me baby bunnies!"

Not the usual choice of words, when someone begs you to cum in them, but Minji makes it sound somewhat alluring.

You grip harder onto her thighs as you push her legs further towards her. She is one flexible woman, taking your pounding in this position with ease.

"Fuck!"

You hiss as you unload a second time in Minji's pussy.

"Yes! Fill my womb! Cum in me!"

Her hole holds onto you tightly as you shoot rope after rope of cum into her freshly fucked pussy.

"So warm."

Minji sighs as she feels your cum inside of her. You lean over her, pressing her legs against her torso.

"I hope you stay addicted to this. I would love to breed you again."

Minji chuckles, wrapping her hands around your neck, pulling you closer.

"Wait for me after your appointment. And don't waste too much cum on them. They don't know how to appreciate it."

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #dreamcatcher #kim bora #yoohyeon #jiu #minji #kim minji #bunny

[narcissistshandler]

are you still making hobie fics 🙏

ps omg ur stuff is sooo delicious its crazy

req; please make a fic of hobie squirming from the reader's suggestive teasing/touch in a public place (diner, movie theater, school etc.) thanks so much !!!

𝗔𝗧𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗔

pairing. hobie brown x gn reader

warnings. dry humping, frottage, cumming in pants, everything happens in public, reader has no gender or genitalia mentioned.

a/n. I don't think you guys have any idea how happy I always am with your compliments, I really hope you like this.

The chaotic, loud and fast symphony reverberated through your ears, the notes that sounded between a mix of rock and hard-hitting singing echoing through the speakers and filling the small local bar that was not much more than a joint where young people gathered to drink, listening to music and criticize the government — everything Hobie liked most, and that's why you had brought him here for a 'date'. Date. This wasn't exactly most people's idea of a date, but seeing the smile that never left Hobie's face as he jumped up and down and sang along to the familiar lyrics of the famous song the band covered, you knew this was exactly the ideal type of date for your boyfriend.

Everything was perfect. The band was a little out of tune, but that was ok, the stage presence made up for it. It was too crowded, and you could barely move without bumping into someone, but people were at least polite. Although, when Hobie was wearing the tightest leather pants, tall boots, and a fishnet top under the jacket that hid absolutely nothing, it was hard to pay much attention to anything else.

You gripped Hobie's hips, fingers against the cold leather hanging right over the protruding bones, tight enough to feel like a second skin. The set of belts purposely left a little loose over his pants and the silver of the thin strap around his neck reflecting under the lights. Hobie's body was warm, sweat running down the back of the neck under the black frizzy curls and you couldn't help but lean in and press your lips there, taking in the cold of the choker and the heat of his dark skin.

It was difficult to talk here and very easy to get lost in the small, lively crowd, which made it convenient for you to stay behind your boyfriend's body, holding him close to prevent you from separating —and from anyone getting the privileged view of Hobie's round ass.

Hobie chuckled, the bass of his laugh vibrating against your chest pressed against his back, otherwise it would have been difficult to notice. "Wanting to mark territory, huh?" he teased, turning his head a little to meet your gaze. The soft lights of the bar reflected in his leering gaze as he continued, "Not that I mind, but we're in public, babe."

You smiled playfully, fingers drawing circles on his hips. "I can't be blamed for wanting to keep the competition at bay. This privileged view is reserved for my eyes only."

Hobie opened his mouth and you leaned in even closer so you could hear what he was saying over the ferocious drums, "Well, in that case, I'm all yours. But let's not make it too obvious, or we might end up stealing the show."

“You’ve never complained about being the star of the show before,” you say, tone heavy with innuendo that precedes your hands inching up the sides of his hips, towards the toned stomach that ripples under your touch.

“Not when you're my only audience,” Hobie says back, but he doesn't pull away when your thumb traces his belly button piercing.

Although it was impossible to ignore the bodies pressing against you from all sides, elbows occasionally finding a target and feet stepping on each other, the atmosphere was dark enough that it was difficult to make out faces and between the euphoria, the alcohol and the music, you knew that something was missing for this date to be the best for Hobie, unforgettable. And he knew it too.

“I’ll still be in the front seat,” you said amused. Your fingers found the hem of his pants and Hobie's body shook, as if an electric shock had coursed through him. "Watching you, adoring you. No one else matters. What if someone sees? I'll still be the only one touching you."

Hobie turned his attention forward, seeming to look to see if anyone was paying attention. “I don’t know,” he said and you almost didn’t hear him, hand already flat against the front of Hobie’s pants. "[name]-" He tensed against you. You felt his erection through the leather, feeling the delicious heat of it radiating through the fabric. The contact made Hobie shudder.

Your lips pressed against his ear, wanting to make sure every word was heard:

"But you're already hard for me. You've been practically since we arrived. Don't think I haven't noticed you rubbing your ass against me."

Despite the stiffness in his shoulders from contact, there was still amusement and pride in his tone when he answered you, "I'm sure I wanted you to notice that last part."

"I'm sure you did, dirty boy."

The music pulses and the bass chords dance at the same time as your fingers run down the front of Hobie's pants, tracing the familiar outline of the member that presses against the leather. It felt like touching bare skin. "[name]," Hobie calls again, you don't hear the sound, you just read his full lips moving.

"Yes?" you ask, giving him a chance to stop you even if you don't stop touching him, rubbing the palm of your hand against him and pinching the tip between two fingers. Your other hand holds his hips, feeling the tension that ripples through the muscles. "Come on, Hobie, you know you want this."

His hips snap at the touch, slamming against your hand, then back against your crotch and back into your hand. There's still tension there though, and maybe it's because of the danger of doing this in public, but his every movement feels restrained and hard, like a poorly oiled gear trying to work.

Hobie is all hot against you, pulse racing beneath your open lips over the salty skin of his slender neck. He turns his head back, almost bumping his head against yours and searches for your mouth. "You're wicked, [name], you know I would never say 'no' to you," he pants, drowning the words against your mouth, forcing you to swallow your own name. He kisses you then, desperately, breathless and completely weak to the pleasure coursing through his veins as you slowly run your thumb along the sensitive tip of his member, matching the rhythm of your tongue sliding into his mouth.

One of your hands slides across the smooth leather, dragging your palm against his cock as you kiss him, the lyrics that sought to remind of all the weight and filth of the society clicking in your ears. Your other hand moves up, running over the bumpy fabric of the fishnet until finds a bulge that presses against your finger. The cold metal slides against your touch, pulling with it the pointy brown nipple peeking out from under his top and Hobie moans against your mouth, asking for 'more'. It was as if today, before leaving home, Hobie had chosen his clothes thinking about how you could touch him without difficulties or real barriers.

You drink in the sounds Hobie makes against your mouth, their volume is lost beneath the music, but the vibration of every moan and every utterance of your name reverberates against your lips, right into your mouth, like a song that only you had access.

Hand wrapped awkwardly around Hobie's dick, fingers practically digging into the sides of it, digging into the leather to get enough precision to pull him hard and fast through each thrust. Hobie writhes against you and melts and it's the most beautiful show. He keeps his mouth against yours even when the kiss ends, humming along to the guitar chords, cursing and following the lyrics of the song. He seems lost in his own head, his brown eyes shining with lust and one hand reached back and gripping your hair, using the support to swivel his hips in a sensual circle, the belts slapping against your arm.

"[name]," he sings through the song's lyrics as he moves against your hand, taking what he needs. "That feels good... you are... I need more... can you...? Fuck."

In the low light you doubted anyone could see the vision of the beautiful man coming apart beneath your fingers to the point where tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. It was a good thing not. You didn't want that in the end — soon — when the night reached its climax and Hobie followed, spilling for you in his pants, anyone else could watch his mouth falling open, hips erratic and his entire body shaking as he became unable to say anything other than your name. The most beautiful spectacle of all and that belonged only to your eyes.

#x male reader #x gn reader #dom reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse x gn reader

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Tongue Tied

summary: A Halloween party, Brenda, and teaching Steve that shotgunning isn’t just a trick guys use to kiss girls.

wc: 2.9k

warnings: My blog is 18+ fem!reader, slight jealousy, and a little insecurity if you squint, fluff, weed smoking and mentions of drinking.

<- 🎃 chapter one | mini series masterlist

Tina’s ‘witches brew’ was maybe just as bad as the music she picked, but Steve Harrington was staring at you from across the crowded room.

You’d only ever seen Top Gun once, and in all honesty you didn’t even need to watch it to know that he looked better than Tom Cruise. The brown leather of his bomber jacket fits snug across his broad shoulders, and tappers tight around his waist. It’s half way zipped up, revealing the white shirt underneath and the aviators that he’d walked in wearing dangling from the collar. The weight of them pulls the fabric down enough to catch a glimpse of the dark hair that covers his chest, and your throat dries up at the thought of him shirtless. His Levi’s are light washed and well worn, a soft outline of where he usually keeps his wallet dangerously close to where your gaze wants to linger. The black combat boots he wears somehow make his feet look even bigger, your thighs press together under your dress.

His eyes roam the length of your body the way you hoped they would when you decided to dress up as The Mistress of the Dark herself. Your plunging neckline begs for his hungry gaze, and you push up your chest to encourage it. A thick black belt hugs tight around your waist, accentuating your curves in a way that has you feeling more confident than normal. Especially when you catch the way he bites his bottom lip in a smirk, darkened eyes lingering on the fake dagger resting against the softness of your tummy. Wiggling your long black nails at him, you can’t help but relish in the fact that a simple wave makes the former king of Hawkins cheeks flush the same shade of red as your lips.

It had been four days since that night with Steve. A whole 96 hours and the boy across the room from you has occupied your thoughts for every minute of every single one. It was becoming a real problem, but yet here you were at a Halloween party you’d already said no to because you knew he would be here.

Robin’s very obviously telling a story next to him, her hands moving wildly as she gets more worked up with whatever is happening in it. She’s too focused on the way Nancy’s giggling in front of her to notice that her best friend isn’t listening, the full weight of his attention making your insides warm.

Is this what it’s like to be one of those girls?

Steve chugs the rest of his beer, throat bobbing with every large gulp before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He holds your gaze even when you see him say something to Robin who waves him off, lost in the oldest Wheeler’s big blue eyes, and the first few steps in your direction is enough to send your heart into overdrive.

You almost lose sight of him when he starts to cross the makeshift dance floor in the living room, his wild auburn hair the only thing staying in your line of vision. It’s a mess of dancing bodies, and orange and black balloons already starting to lose their luster falling from the ceiling.

His eyes meet yours in the crowd and you feel the heels you can hardly walk in start to carry you closer, stepping over the empty cups and streamers that litter the floor. His smile widens, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when you feel your cheeks push up doing the same.

It’s when Steve finally makes it to the edge of the crowd, stopping just a few more steps away from you when it happens. When she happens.

Brenda.

She’s dressed as Madonna, her perfect blond hair teased just right, giving it more volume than Steve’s even on his best day. Black fishnets cover her toned legs, with a matching tutu that leaves little to the imagination stopping just above the curve of her ass.

The corset she wears gives her breasts the kind of push that you know is the reason for Steve’s blush when she steps in front of him. Perfectly manicured pink nails dragging up his chest before her palm flattens just underneath where his sunglasses hang.

His eyes flicker between the two of you, a nervous laugh leaving his mouth at whatever she’s saying. He scratches the back of his neck when he responds, and it makes her throw her head back in flirty giggles before her fingers start playing with his jacket zipper.

The sting of rejection is harsher than you thought it’d be, and you hope he can’t see the way it wipes the smile clean off your face. Girls like Brenda always seemed to be the boy’s kryptonite. The urge to find your best friend is what keeps your feet moving, almost like that was your plan all along. The joint you stashed away earlier in his jacket pocket calls your name, and you don’t look at Steve as you walk past the two of them, even when you see his hand reach out for your wrist.

It’s just Steve anyway.

You keep telling yourself that, hoping that it will ease the slight lump in your throat. An anger bubbling just under the surface turning the heat in your stomach into something more like lava, a volcano bubbling, just ready to explode as you try to convince yourself that you don’t have a crush.

When you find Eddie in the next room, his tongue deep in his girlfriend Cece’s mouth on the couch, and you can’t hide the bitterness that drips from your tone.

“Make sure to get some oxygen so you don’t pass out, Jesus Christ.”

Your rude interruption makes them both pull apart with a loud smack, the fake blood he’d sloppily smeared down the corners of his mouth almost gone leaving a pink stain on his pale skin instead.

“What’s your deal? Can’t you see I’m a little busy.” Eddie’s gaze narrows into an annoyed glare, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing the same thing to Harrington.”

“That’s not why I came,” you snort, crossing your arms and it makes him raise his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Bullshit.”

The two of you stare each other down, unwavering, it’s only when his eyes flick towards the dance floor that he sees the cause of your sour mood. The hard lines on his forehead soften before he rubs a ringed hand over his face with an exasperated groan. Cece wraps her arms around his waist tighter, hearts taking over her pupils when she gets a front row seat of her boyfriend being your best friend.

“Here,” he sighs under his breath, pulling open his jacket to pluck out the perfectly rolled joint inside his hidden pocket. He holds it out to you in a peace offering.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you take it, giving him a weak smile before tucking the cone in your belt next to your lighter, “Go back to sucking each other's faces off, sorry to interrupt.”

Your joke makes her giggle, and Eddie grin in the kind of way that's contagious.

“He’s an idiot,” the metal head tries to comfort, “Honestly, he’ll tell you himself.”

“I’m fine.” You keep your expression as unreadable as possible, but you know it's futile to try and hide from him, “It’s just Steve.”

It’s colder outside than when you first got here, and you don’t have nearly enough alcohol in your system to keep you warm. Goosebumps rise on the inappropriate amount of skin you have showing for the season, making you wish you’d grabbed your jacket. The breeze rustles the leaves that refuse to let go or their brittle branches, mixing with the muffled bass of the music inside, while your heels make a hollow thump against the wood of Tina’s back porch.

Pulling out the joint and your lighter from your belt, you take a seat on the top of the stairs that lead to her backyard. There’s a shiver that runs down your spine as your thumb flicks the wheel that brings the flame to life, a temporary heat warming your face as you spin the fat end over the fire to burn it evenly. The earthy smell hits your nose, shoulders already relaxing before you take the first toke. Bringing it to your lips, you tuck your lighter back inside your belt, leaning back on your palm to look at the clear night sky above you as you inhale your first drag into your lungs.

It’s just Steve.

When you exhale, your eyes stay trained on the white wisps of smoke that shades the twinkling of the stars behind it and you try not to think of Brenda’s pink nails running through his hair. Your next hit is much bigger. The music from inside gets louder, making you jump when you hear the sliding glass door open. Straightening up, you turn around with a glare ready for whoever the intruder is, only to be face to face with the boy you’re trying to convince yourself you don’t like.

“Hey, there you are.” His smile is easy, and you hate that it warms you like the sun just from looking at it.

You raise your eyebrows in acknowledgment, hollowing out your cheeks taking another drag before bringing your gaze back to the sky. His boots sound heavier than your heels against the wood, some steps making the deck creak under his weight. The silence is thick with words on the tips of both your tongues, but neither one of you is willing to break it first. He sighs awkwardly out of his nose, rubbing his palms against his thighs before taking the seat next to you. Your knees knock together, and the heat of him so close sends another shiver down to your bones.

“Jesus, you have to be cold. It’s like 40 degrees outside.” Steve doesn’t hesitate to start shrugging off his jacket, and you clock the movements from the corner of your eye.

“Steve, no, really I’m fine,” you try to protest but he doesn’t listen, thick tan arms coming into view.

“Please, I can hear your teeth from here,” he chuckles, standing up to drape the leather over your shoulders, and you try not to stare at the way the hem of his shirt rises up revealing a dark happy trail.

It feels like he’s everywhere when your shoulders slot into the warm pockets where he just was, wrapped up in him just like on your couch. The spice of his cologne clings to the fabric on the inside, and you have to fight back the urge to bury your nose into the collar and inhale.

“Well aren’t you gonna be cold now?” You ask, finally daring to meet his eyes, taking another hit.

“Nah, I’ll be alright.” He winks with the kind of confidence that makes your face hot, clasping his hands together over his spread knees making your shoulders bump.

“So, Top Gun huh?” Giggling, you finally earn a Steve Harrington eyeroll.

“Look, I didn’t have to buy anything okay. I wasn’t even going to come tonight, until I heard,” he stops himself, pink dusting his cheeks and you don’t think it's from the frost in the air, “I’m surprised you’ve even seen it, doesn’t seem like your type of movie.”

“What’s my type of movie, Steve?” You grin with a cocked brow, letting the end of the joint rest against your bottom lip, the heat from before blooming deep in your gut when he tracks the movement licking his.

“I don’t know,” his heavy gaze makes your throat bob, “You tell me.”

You don’t think you’re talking about movies anymore.

“Isn’t Brenda going to be looking for you?” You tear your eyes away from him, taking another hit to seem nonchalant. The loud snort you get in response makes you jump.

“Brenda? No, I’ve been dodging that girl for months.” Running a hand through his hair, he dares to snatch the joint from between your fingers like he was some kind of professional or something. “Is that why you ran off on me in there?”

“I did not run off!” You huff, ducking your head inside his jacket to glare at him from over the top of it, “Why would I do that?”

Vulnerability softens Steve’s features when he looks at you tucked into his coat like it’s always meant to keep you warm.

“I don’t know,” he repeats quietly, “You tell me.”

Too scared of rejection, it’s his turn to look away bringing the joint to his mouth in an attempt to take a hit. You watch him hollow his cheeks, impressed for a second until he opens it to exhale and blows nothing out. A giggle slips past your lips that breaks the tension, making him groan loudly trying to fight his own smile.

“Look, I’m still new at this okay.” He sighs, a breathy laugh escaping him with a shake of his head handing it back to you. He’s only a little embarrassed, too enamored by how cute you look giggling at him.

“Hey, the confidence was there, you just gotta work on the technique.” You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, something sweet dancing behind your eyes when you scoot a little closer. “Do you want me to shotgun it for you?”

It’s Steve’s throat that bobs now.

“Aren’t guys supposed to do that to girls? I mean, I’ve seen Eddie do it at a few parties…” he starts, eyes going wide when you scoff at him.

“Wow, your feminism is showing.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just like in movies - I’m not saying girls can’t - wow this is not coming out the way I want it too, I’m just going to shut up now.” Steve stammers, running another nervous hand through his hair, blowing out an exasperated breath before meeting you

with sheepish eyes.

“Are you driving tonight?” You ask, looking up at him from under your lashes, bringing the joint to your mouth.

“No, for once.” He gives you a lopsided grin that makes your head spin.

“Good.” Turning your body towards him, the confidence you’re trying to hang onto wavers being this close again.

It’s just Steve.

He looks nervous as you feel, but tries to hide behind a quiet laugh, the amber of the beer he drank inside lingering on his breath. The warmth of his palm finds a home on your fishnet covered thigh that’s revealed to him by the side slit of your dress, fingertips pressing into soft skin. The heat behind his stare makes your body buzz as you inhale the last little bit of the joint into your lungs, beckoning him closer with a hum, and a curl of your long nails you snuff the rest out on the stairs. Surely Tina won’t mind.

“Really?!” Steve half whispers, half yells but the whites of his teeth show giving him away.

The corners of your mouth twitch as you lean forward catching the way his gaze flicks down, and how the view makes the gold specs inside his eyes darken. Resting your hand on his cheek, the stubble tickles your palm when your fingers spread out, your thumb coaxing his chin down to open up more for you. His long lashes flutter when his nose bumps with yours, heads turning just enough for lips to brush for a second and you feel the blunt ends of his nails dig into the holes of your fishnets.

You release your hit, feeling him steal the air from your lungs, his hand daring to move up your thigh to your waist where he tugs you even closer. He holds it in for a second, both of your eyes meeting down the bridge of your nose but neither of you pulling away.

Do it.

When he exhales there’s hardly anything left, but you take it anyway, your fingers finding their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. He squeezes at the dough of your hips, in a silent plea to put him out of his misery and just when you think you’re about to show him mercy the sound of the music getting louder and the sliding glass door opening makes you both jump away.

“Hey! - Oh shit! Sorry Harrington, I didn’t know you were out here.” Eddie tries to apologize profusely with his eyes when he sees the glare you’re shooting him. “I just sold the last of my stuff and Cece’s ready to go, so if you still need a ride?”

Your best friend looks at Steve begging him to take the opening to hopefully spare his life.

“I didn’t drive tonight if you can actually believe,” Steve laughs nervously scratching the back of his neck, “or obviously I’d love nothing more for you to stay.”

He says the last part softly, just for you more than pleased when he sees you try and fight the smile from taking over your face.

“Maybe next time,” you look at him from under your lashes hoping that he picks up the fact that you want a ‘next time.’

The blush that turns the tips of his ears pink tells you he does. He watches you get up and start to shrug his jacket off, shaking his head as he stands up to stop you.

“Keep it tonight, honey. It looks better on you anyway.”

-> chapter three

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington series

[sillysowa]

Ask and you shall receive, my lovelies!

ALL MINE!

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X PLUSSIZED!FEM!READER

GENRE: SMUT! PWP

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNINGS: NON DESCRIPTIVE BODY SHAMING, FACESITTING, FACE RIDING, VAGINAL SEX, BODY WORSHIP

AUTHORS NOTE: I TRIED MY ABSOLUTE BEST TO WRITE ABOUT AN EXPERIENCE THAT I AM NOT INCREDIBLY FAMILIAR WITH, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF ANY OF MY REPRESENTATION OR CONTENT IS OFFENSIVE OR INACCURATE! I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE WITH WRITING DESCRIPTIVE BODY SHAMING. SORRY IF THIS SEEMS AT ALL RUSHED, BEEN HELLA BUSY!

SYNOPSIS: YOU SURPRISE YOUR BOYFRIEND HOBIE AT HIS BIGGEST CONCERT YET, ONLY FOR SOME GROUPIES TO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE SHIT, BUT HOBIE DOESN’T LET THAT SLIDE—OH AND HE FUCKS THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LATER!

—

Today was a big day. Hobie and his band are going to have a concert at their biggest venue yet, and you’re going to surprise him in the crowd. Originally, you and Hobie were pretty bummed because you had plans that day already, and you were almost positive that you wouldn’t be able to get the day off—but turns out you were wrong. Without telling Hobie, you managed to clear up your day completely, and get VIP floor tickets to the show. You had even gone shopping for a concert outfit that would make you look amazing under the concert lights. You are incredibly confident in your body and how it looks, and you really wanted to show it off.

It was the night of, Hobie left earlier, obviously disappointed that you wouldn’t be there but still understanding that your schedule was busy. The smell of his cologne when he bent down to kiss you, his guitar over his shoulder and his amp in his hands was a sight for sore eyes. The moment he left, you went straight to the nearest mirror and did your makeup, spending all the time necessary to look your absolute best. Finally it was time for the outfit. It was beautiful. It was absolutely everything you wanted and it looked beautiful on you. You couldn’t wait for Hobie to see you, illuminated in the neon lights and done up for him, but you really couldn’t wait for him to fuck you up.

You got to the venue early, making sure you could guarantee that you were front row, and prepared yourself to stand for a very long time. The looks that you were given from the groupies who walked to the VIP line made you roll your eyes. There was always those girls—the tall, stick-thin, bratty—and they always needed to make sure you saw them when they looked at you nastily. You just looked forward, and waited out the time until the doors opened.

When they did, you walked with a quick pace, not running, but definitely not walking. You made your way up to the front row, slightly to the right where Hobie plays—you knew because you saw his guitar propped up. You heard the sound of heels, giggled and snobby sounding voices around you. It was the girls from earlier. They were all around you, and you could hear their whispers. It didn’t get to you before, but god it was starting to get to you now. You tried your best to keep ignoring them when a tall blonde woman who didn’t look like the type to be at a punk-rock concert, leaned over and whispered something gut-wrenchingly rude in your ear before standing straight and chatting with her friends. You stood there, suddenly incredibly insecure and crushed. Your spirits were high before, but now? Now you just wanted to go home…to Hobie. That was when you remembered why you were here. You were here for Hobie.

When the lights came on, there’s a ruckus all around. The crowd squeezes together uncomfortably, the room growing loud and wild. The girls around you throw insults your way when you don’t move, holding onto the railing tight. The first song started, and you heard a flurry of yells from Hobies bandmates, and then Hobie. A chill raced down your spine like a rollercoaster down its tracks, and Hobie raced onto the stage. He looked amazing—A fishnet top with a leather vest over it, dark blue jeans held up by a spiked belt, as much silver jewelry as he could fit, and messy black eyeliner.

The song was going amazing, Hobies skilled fingers that you loved oh so much dancing across his guitar as beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his beautiful smile coming out for all to see. Nothing good lasts forever though as when you excitedly jumped with the crowd, the bitchy girl to your right started hurling insults at you. This time you didn’t take it so well. You started questioning her,

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“You, you fucking skank!” She yelled obnoxiously, “Can you fucking move?” She said with the most audacity you had ever seen in your life. Some of her friends laughed, some of them looked at you with a nasty stare, but you just shook your head,

“I payed for these tickets just like you. I’m just trying to enjoy the show, asshole.” You grunted, facing forward to catch the end of the song and ignoring her when she suddenly shoved you. You stumble for a moment, bumping into the fellow groupie bitches to your left only for them to grunt and get pissy. You turned around, ready to fuck her up when,

“You betta get your grimy hands of my girl.” Hobie spoke into his mic, voice deep and angry. He stared directly into the blonde girl’s soul, causing her to freeze and stare blankly at him, then dumbly point at herself like she wasn’t caught in the act,

“Yeah you, what the fuck do you think you were doin?” He laughs, “Get the hell out of my venue.” He suddenly deadpans, “C’mon, get.” He says, the whole crowd invested and booing the girls. They squeeze out of the crowd and get ushered out by security. You’re incredibly flustered as suddenly there’s a ton of eyes on you, everyone wanting to get a look at the lead guitarists girl.

“Take a peek at my girlfriend, people. Isn’t she lovely? God I can’t wait to tear that outfit off of her later!” Hobie gushes into the mic, his deep voice echoing in the venue. The whole crowd starts cheering and getting hype, the next song starting soon after. You knew you were in for one hell of a night.

—

“Can’t believe you actually came, you cheeky ting.” Hobie smiles as he kisses your neck, your back pressed against the deck of his boat. He had rushed you out of the venue earlier, cock already hard in his jeans and hands all over you,

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Hobie, I love to see you on stage.” You smile, thoughts caught up on what those girls said to you about your body earlier. You wonder if there will ever be a day where you feel confident in your skin without getting torn down by someone. You didn’t notice that you had started tearing up, but Hobie must have noticed because he grabbed your face, your eyes refocusing on him while he’s on top of you,

“Who the fuck were those girls?” He suddenly asks, his tone dead serious,

“Just some random groupies I think.” You say dismissing any conversation that might come up about what had gotten you in a fight with them, but sure enough,

“What caused that scene, love?” He questioned, head tilting and deep eyes analyzing your every move and facial expression—nothing gets past Hobie—especially not things like this,

“They…they made a couple comments about my weight.” You admit, trying to move past it as soon as possible.

“And that’s got you bothered?” He asks, already knowing the answer,

“No.”

“No?” Hobie asks, “I don’t buy that—you’ve got that distant look in your eyes doll. Do I need to remind you just how beautiful you are cause I have no problem doing that.” Hobie whispers, voice growing seductive and needy as he kisses your shoulder, his hands dipping down to cup your pussy. When you shudder and sigh, he chuckles, kissing you and suddenly flipping you both, you on top of him. Hobies strength never ceases to amaze you, and you’re even more amazed when he gently lifts you by your hips, sliding himself to be level with your cunt,

“Sit on my face baby, want your sweet pussy~” Hobie grunts, licking his lips and tearing your underwear off. You gasp and cry out when he pulls your hips down, eating you out like he’s gone mad. You rock your hips into his face, your clit bumping against his nose,

“…So pretty…so fucking good…and all mine…” Hobie grunts while he eats you out, his face buried between your legs and his eyes crazed. The warmth and wetness between your legs drives you crazy, panting and moaning as you thrust your hips against him. Hobies fingers grip your thighs, tongue fucking you while his nose rubs your clit. You feel your orgasm coming, and you can barely warn Hobie,

“I-I’m gonna…” You moan, your hands in his hair, looking down at him. Hobie just speed up his ministrations, hungry for you. When you cum, you shake and whimper, the sound of Hobie’s grunts and slurping overstimulating you almost instantly.

“Hobie~” You whine, writhing to get off of him when he finally gives in, gently helping you get positioned under him. He kisses you passionately, one finger under your chin. The kiss is full of love and passion, and Hobie kisses all the way down your body, whispering how much he loves the things about you that no one else has seen. How much he loves the things about your body that are truly unique, and the things about your body that you might not truly love. Hobie loves it all.

He undoes his belt, the sounds sending need straight to your core,

“I love you baby, y’know that?” He whispers,

“Yeah…I do.” You say, breathless,

“Let me show you, baby.” He groans, lining his tip up with your entrance and gently thrusting in. You wince at the size of his cock in you, and Hobie groans, his head dripping down beside you,

“You feelin’ good doll? Does that hurt?” He grunts out, his hands gripping the wood underneath you. The night is cold out on the water with you and Hobie all alone, and the feeling of him inside you is like heaven. You gasp out into the dark sky as Hobie fucks you, whimpering,

“Feels perfect, Hobie~”

His cock stretches your walls, his moans of how beautiful and pretty you are etched into your skin with each kiss. Your thighs shake and tremble and your head spins from all the praise, Hobie fucking you into the floor.

“You like that? Yeah? Good girl baby so good f’me just keep giving me those pretty moans baby” He moans, kissing you as he speeds up. He’s fucking you with reckless abandon, the boat even slightly shaking. He pulls away from the kiss panting wildly and throwing his head back as he thrusts into you. The noises that spill from your lips are animalistic, and your pussy squeezes around him,

“Hobie!” You whimper, your hands shaking on his back.

“Come on, cum for me luv.” He groans, kissing you deeply as you moan into his mouth. Your eyes widen and then roll into the back of your head, the sounds of both your skin slapping resonating around you. Hobie speeds up impossibly faster and you cum—seeing stars as you squirt all over him. Almost directly after, Hobie spills his cum deep inside you. You can feel the twitching of his cock and the warmth of his semen inside you. Tears spill out of your eye, Hobie breaking the kiss to wipe them away. His thumbs smoothing over your face. Hobie pulls out of you and scoop you up, bringing you to his bed and cleaning you up softly—the whole time whispering sweet praises to you and kissing every inch of your skin for the last time that night. Hobie cleans himself off, helps you into one of your sleep shirts that you left on the boat last time, and slips into bed behind you, holding you all through the night.

No one will ever tear down your self esteem with Hobie around. He was sure of it.

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown angst #spiderman #silly’s fics

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 1/12)

yes i have eighty different rockstar!eddie's now, pls don't look at me, i rewatched almost famous and had a moment, k bye, enjoy!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you're a writer for rolling stone magazine and eddie hates the media so... he hates you

contains: enemies to lover trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, and eddie being an asshole <3

word count: 4.5k

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You love your job more than anything.

You love that it allows you to travel, that it’s centered around music, and that you get to meet people and make friends and do extravagant things you would’ve never imagined you’d be doing. You love your job.

“I love my job.” It’s starting to taste like a lie when it reaches your tongue.

You mutter it to yourself again, looking around the bright hallway and searching for any fucking door with the words ‘CORRODED COFFIN’ written on it.

You glance at the watch on your wrist, teeth digging into the soft skin of your cheek as you keep walking down the corridor. 

You feel as if you’ve been walking down this hall for years, miles of white stone wall and shiny gray cement floors, equipment littered here and there with staff walking through doors and yelling commands.

You follow the echo of chatter and soft giggles, the sound getting closer and closer until a group of girls meets you. A red-headed girl lazily chews gum and stands against the wall, glaring at you from behind her blood-red shades. You take the chance to ask them your pressing question, “Do you know where I could find the dressing room for Corroded Coffin?” You ask.

The girls glare at you and giggle, eyeing you and, without a doubt judging your lack of fishnets and leather clothing. Brown leather boots, flared jeans, and a white long sleeve— you don’t belong here. “You a reporter or something?” 

You look at the redheaded girl, pursing your lips and taking a steady breath, reaching up to grasp the strap of your crossbody bag. “I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, ignoring the snickering girls on the side. You clench the leather band of your bag in your palm, “I’m doing a piece on the band.”

The girl silently studies you; a ghost of a smile passes her lips, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You shift on your feet, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah um… they’re big on music and—“ “I know what Rolling Stone Magazine is.”

You love your job.

You steadily breathe, clenching your bag once again. Your feet ache in these boots, and your jeans are teetering on the cusp of too tight after you ate a quick dinner— you want to go home. “The boys won’t speak with Rolling Stone.”

It falls silent between the two of you, and you glance at the other three girls, huddled together and passing a joint. “They don’t like watered-down shitty tabloids like yours. They won’t want to see you.” The redhead explains, silently reaching over to accept her turn with the joint.

You watch as she brings the burning paper to her lips, taking a long drag and smirking at you. She expects you to take her word and leave, but you’ve dealt with enough people like her to know she’s bullshitting you.

“Could you please point me toward their dressing room?” You ask, reconstructing your previous question because you now understand that, without a doubt, these women know where the dressing room is.

She laughs and points across the hall, some feet from where you’re all standing. You can see the first few letters of the band's name from your angle, and you internally rejoice. You thank her and walk over to the door, mentally reviewing your introduction a few times before laying a few knocks on the heavy black door.

There’s no response for a moment, and you try not to let the snickering sound of the girls tick you off. You lift your hand to knock again, but the door swings open before you can do it. A tall, muscular man glares down at you, dressed in black with a scowl. He must be security.

“Hi, I’m a writer for—“ “Groupies aren’t coming in yet; wait out in the back.” 

Your face twists in offense, glaring at the man as you, yet again, clench your fist in annoyance, “I’m not a fucking group—“ The door slams shut before you can finish your sentence. 

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter to yourself. 

You love your job.

The girls snicker behind you, and you feel your face heat in embarrassment and annoyance. Why is nearly everybody in this industry just a bunch of assholes? You figure you’ll just have to wait for the band members to come out, leaning back to press your back against the wall and patiently wait.

From outside, you can hear the chaotic noise of yelling and loud banter from inside the room— the clatter of furniture breaking and thuds against the wall. You remember when behavior like this used to shock you, but artists seem to have reckless behavior nowadays.

The group of girls chatter amongst themselves, and you busy yourself with following the cracks in the floor. You stand there with aching feet and a mental ticking clock for what feels like hours, and you almost give up until the door flies open and three boys stumble out, reeking of alcohol and weed and musk. 

You watch as they all brush past you, ignoring you for the group of girls standing across the hallway, cheering their names and draping their arms across their shoulders. 

“And who might you be?”

You turn around at the gravelly voice, locking eyes with a glazed pool of brown. The last of the group, the fourth member— and, by what you can piece together given the notorious long dark brown locks dusting his shoulders, Eddie Munson. You clear your throat, stepping forward and telling him your name. You extend a hand for him to shake and ignore how his gaze rolls over every inch of your body.

“I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, retracting your hand when he only glances at the kind gesture. He stands before you, an uninterested smirk dancing against his lips. He’s dressed in black jeans and black leather boots that look worn to hell despite his bottomless pit of a wallet. A black sheer button-down top, fully open to expose his sweat-glistened chest, shiny chains hanging from his neck and kissing his collarbones. His ringed fingers are wrapped around the neck of a half-empty bottle of whiskey, tiny sticky streams of spilled alcohol coating the bottle.

“I’m here to interview your band.” You add. 

He laughs, spit-slick lips forming a mocking smile as he speaks, “My band?” 

You blink, “Yes, you’re all a band, right?” You motion to the boys, still chatting with the girls across from where you stand, ignoring the sight of one of the members groping a girl as she giggles. “Heavy metal band, Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah, toots, we’re a band,” he lifts the bottle to his lips, speaking over the rim, “But this isn’t my band.” He tips the drink back and gulps down the bitter drink.

You watch as he takes it down without a single twitch of displeasure. You take a deep breath, shifting on your feet as you ignore his smart response, “Okay, well, it won’t be long,” you try to reason, reaching for your bag to dig out your notepad.

“Just a few questions; I won’t take much of your time—” Eddie cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “Listen, princess,” he presses his hand against the wall beside you, using the hand wrapped around the whiskey to gesture as he speaks. “While I’d love to sit and chitchat like a couple of teenage girls, we’ve got two issues here, sweetheart.”

“One,” he raises his index finger, “We don’t do interviews before shows.” He explains as if it’s common knowledge. He lifts another finger, “And two,” he steps closer, a sickening grin spreading across his lips when you step back. “We want nothing to do with your shitty dick-sucking career-crushing poor excuse of a magazine.”

You stare at him, a million different responses churning in your head, and you so badly want to read him to filth, but you really fucking love your job.

“Mr. Munson, I promise you—” “Where are you from?”

What is it with these assholes and cutting you off mid-sentence? 

You swallow your pride and answer, “Michigan.” Eddie hums, nodding his head, clicking his teeth as if tasting the state on his tongue. “I’ll tell you this, Michigan,” he bumps the bottle against your shoulder, and you grimace at the drop of liquor that seeps into your shirt. “We’re not doing your shitty piece of a story, but we’ll graciously give you a nice view of the show from the side stage.” He grins, patting your shoulder once and winking.

A staff member passes by you, alerting the band that they have less than a minute to be on stage. You open your mouth to object to his offer, but the boy is downing the rest of the bottle and shoving the bottle into your chest, “Enjoy the show, Michigan.” 

You watch in disbelief as he walks off with his band members, the other members not even glancing your way as they holler and cheer down the corridor of the venue. For the 80th time tonight, you clutch the band of your bag and curse to yourself.

Fuckin’ dipshit rockstars.

Against your better judgment, you, again, swallow your pride and watch the show from the side of the stage. You decline any drinks offers, wanting to stay as sober as possible for the interview after the show (if you can weasel one out of them). 

Corroded Coffin knows how to put on a show. Each band member works the crowd in ways you have rarely witnessed in this industry— it’s not difficult to see their appeal to the younger generation of music listeners.

None of the members outshine the other; they are all equally in the spotlight, playing their part to create a well-oiled machine of an act. Granted, most of the show is concerningly chaotic; Gareth kicked his foot into his drum set near the end, Jeff smashed the fret of his guitar over the side of an amp, Eddie made out with a fan and Gareth, and the other member you can’t seem to name for the life of you sprayed the front row with multiple bottles of liquor.

It’s chaotic, an endless list of violations without a doubt, but the fans eat it out of the palm of their hands.

You don’t even bother trying to get their attention when they run off the stage, quietly watching from afar as they’re cheered on by VIP fans, managers, and staff. Security rushes them to the green room, where a line of fans waits with various pieces of merchandise to be signed.

You follow, silently taking in the busy scene, saying nothing when you catch a few members stealthily swiping tiny bags of party favors from fans. It’s a movie of never-ending noise and movement, and you’re wondering how they put up with this every night.

You glance at your watch and grunt in annoyance, half past midnight, well past the time you’d hoped to be back in your hotel room.

You stand aside and watch the room as the squealing fans go to each boy, getting autographs and Polaroids to commemorate the moment. Gareth is a flirt, shakes every girl's hand and only lingers for the ones he fancies, gazes into their eyes like they’re the only girl in the room, and smirks when they giggle and lean into his touch. Tells them they’re pretty, compliments their dresses and tops, and gazes at their chest for too long until staff breaks the moment and tells the girls to ‘keep the line moving, ladies’. 

Jeff is almost the same, except he’s less performative with it. He’s got a hint of a gentleman in him, thanks each fan for coming, and asks how they liked the show with a sneaky glint in his eyes and a sly smirk. Winks at one of the girls and leans in to whisper something in her ear, something you can’t read from his lips, but later on, you will see them step onto the tour bus together, snickering like sneaky teenagers.

The bass player, the one whose name always slips your mind, has gone off somewhere with a groupie; you watched them slip away from the madness the second he stepped off stage. 

And Eddie— Eddie can’t stop glaring at you. Can’t stop looking at you and making you squirm because he wants you gone. He’s got an arm draped around a girl's shoulder, neck craned down to hear what she whispers, and through the chaos of the room and the pretty girl practically pawing at his chest and giggling in his ear, Eddie still manages to find the time to look at you. Curly bangs wet with sweat sticking to his forehead, cheeks rosy and flushed with adrenaline, wide eyes diminished beneath smudged black eyeliner. He looks like an animal, damp and matted, searing gaze dripping with malice. 

You almost take the bait and cower.

A hand is placed on your shoulder, breaking your silent staring contest with Eddie as a man steps into your view. He is taller than you, older with lines of age sinking into his skin, glaring down at you over the end of his cigarette as he speaks, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You wonder how he was able to pick you out, but your itchy jeans and suffocating boots quickly remind you that you don’t exactly fit into the crowd. You nod, sticking a hand out and telling him your name. “You must be Richie, the manager?” You assume, kindly smiling when he takes your hand with a friendly grip in greeting.

“I’m here to interview your boys. We called this morning,” you remind him. He nods, puffs out a cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth as he speaks, “Yeah, uh… The thing with that is,” he tilts his head to scratch at the stubble on his chin, “I’m not so sure the boys’ll be up for that.” 

You breathily laugh, glancing at the boys behind him, ignoring when Eddie glances your way, “Yeah, I gathered that already.”

The man hums, reaching up to pluck the burning paper from his lip, blowing the smoke away from your face before speaking, “Yeah, Eddie’s not too keen on big media. Bad run-in from the past.” He explains. You nod understandingly, “The Face?”

The man nods, taking another hit, “Tore ‘em to shreds.” You nod, crossing your arms over your chest with a breath, “I remember.” He offers you a hit, and you shake your head, kindly waving him off.

“Shitty, you came all this way, though. Where you from?”

You don’t look at him as you respond, too focused on the man across the room, his attention locked in on the fans now that he sees you’re being taken care of— like an unwanted intruder being exterminated. But you’re not an intruder. You’re a journalist, a writer, a listener— and you’re damn good at it. 

Before you can thoroughly think about the repercussions, your mouth is running, gaze still locked on Eddie, “I can get them on the cover.”

Richie pauses his rambling at that, pauses the lift of his cigarette to his lips, and looks at you, waiting for you to say it was a joke or something— but it’s not. Your gaze flitters to him, your expression unwavering as you wait for him to respond. “The cover?”

You nod once, watching as he takes one long drag of his cigarette. “We can do one big interview with them all,” you begin, “I’ll tag along for a few shows to gather more on the experience, get a photoshoot booked and have them on the cover for the July issue.” You’re pulling strings, tugging at what sounds enticing and will get you where you need to be. You’re good at your job, you’ve done this before, and you know how to bend things to your will because the rockstars— the rockstars are always easy to break.

Richie glances over his shoulder and grunts, rubbing a hand over his face before turning back to you, “Okay, um,” he sighs and curses under his breath, “Let me see if I can talk them into it, yeah?” He sticks the cigarette between his lips and starts searching his pockets. “We’ve got a residency tour in New York next,” he announces, finally fishing out his wallet and sifting through cards until he finds what he needs. He offers the card to you, “Think you can meet us there?”

You take the card and glance over it before glancing at the boy once again. You nod, and he smiles, “Give me a call when you land; I’ll let you know if it’s a go.”

He leaves without another word, and you stay standing for a bit, rubbing the card between your fingers as you watch the boys meet the last of their fans tonight, Eddie no longer looks your way, and you hope he does for just a split second so he can know— so he can realize that he lost.

You give up when he seems too preoccupied with the girls, stuffing the card in your purse and making your way toward the exit. You’ll have to settle for rubbing it in when you see them in New York.

You spent the better part of your week convincing Anna, your manager, to give you the benefit of the doubt and allow you to pull through with a cover story. Anna wasn’t so excited when you told her you offered them a cover, but Anna is never excited by your ideas; she’s always worried until the final product comes out like a fine piece of gold. Treasure. You create treasure, and Anna knows this, so she finally relents and lets you go through with it— “You better get me the biggest story ever made. Bigger than Madonna.”

You can do bigger than Madonna— and seeing as your subject is four young men at the peak of worldwide fame, ‘bigger than Madonna’ will be a piece of cake.

You grab the hotel phone the second you get in, dialing the number on the creased business card you’d fished out from your bag. Your knee bounces in anticipation, teeth digging into your lip as you listen to each agonizing ring, almost thinking Richie gave you a fake card before finally, the phone picks up, “Hello?” It’s groggy, like he’d just woke up.

“Hi, it’s Rolling Stone Magazine,”

He groans on the other end, and you can hear the rustling of sheets, and you assume he’s sitting up in bed, “Rolling Stone Magazine… Oh— oh, uh… are you here?” He asks. You nod before answering with a short yes. 

“Are we on for today?” You ask. He’s silent for a few moments, nothing but sleepy, distant grunts filtering through the speaker. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we’re on just uh,” you pick at the seam of your jeans as you wait for him to finish his thought, “Come to the garden at around three; they’ve got rehearsals, and you can try to squeeze in after.”

You thank him and end the call, placing the phone back on the stand and sighing as you glance around the room. This will be your home for the next month; Anna advised you to stay for the entire residency tour despite your reassurance that you can complete the story in a week— “A big story, birdie. A massive one. A good one. That doesn’t happen in a week.”

So, one month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie doesn’t like rehearsals. 

He thinks they’re stupid and useless and take up too much time of the day when he could spend it doing something else. Could be writing, could be out having fun with the boys and getting high as a kite, could be fucking that redheaded groupie, Lany. He could be doing so many things, but instead, he’s up on stage in an empty arena listening for feedback in the mic and testing the amps for the guitars. 

“Let’s do that last track one more time; I think I’m picking up a bit of feedback on you, Gareth.”

Eddie sits down on the edge of the drum riser, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He tilts his head back and blows up toward the beaming lights, squinting at the bright rays and imagining them enveloping him. He closes his eyes and imagines it’s the sun, thinking about Hawkins and the last summers he spent with the gang. Thinks about Dustin and Lucas and Max and Mike. Steve, Nance, and Robin. Thinks about how he hasn’t called or visited in a while, even though he got their card on his birthday.

He feels shitty for not calling home; he itches to make the call now and let them know that he misses them and wishes they could fly out more often to watch the band play. They’re all busy, though; the kids are about to start college— dusted the shit out of high school, which Eddie obviously flew in to watch them walk the stage— and the older half of them are all getting jobs, looking for their next big step in life, and Eddie misses them.

His reminiscent thoughts are cut through with the sharp and loud slamming of the arena door, grasping his attention in seconds. He blinks a few times to get the light out of his eyes, squinting at where the noise came from— and Eddie’s mind is fresh off a joint, so he’s not a hundred percent sure if he’s just envisioning that journalist from the other day or she’s actually here.

He stands up from the drum riser, stepping further into the stage as he watches you walk down the rows of seats; barely acknowledges the stage manager when he asks him to play the riff from track four until Jeff walks into his line of sight, “Come on, man, I wanna get this over with.”

Eddie situates his fingers over the frets of his guitar, watching as you find a seat in the third row and settle in, settling your bag in your lap and holding it to you as you silently watch the crew work the stage. He plays the riff a few times, until they can fix that god-awful ringing noise behind the higher notes, and when they finally wrap up rehearsals, Eddie makes a beeline to the front row where Richie is standing, quietly chatting with a staff member about where he wants the road cases to go. Eddie doesn’t care much for their conversation, steps in, and promptly interrupts, “Why the fuck is that journalist here?”

Richard turns to him and raises his eyebrows, “Sir?”

The staff member leaves as Eddie leans in and points over Richard's shoulder to where you sit, still quietly watching the stage, bright lights illuminating your face like you’re some god-sent fucking angel— and you’re not. Eddie knows you’re not. He sees straight through your friendly act. “The journalist, Richie. Why is she here?” He slowly repeats.

Richie glances at you and looks back at Eddie, “She’s doing a story on the band—” “No, she’s fucking not.”

Richie stares at Eddie, blinks for a silent moment before speaking, “Son,” —and sometimes Richie reminds Eddie of Wayne, and it scares him, “She’s gonna put you on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine.” Richie points your way. Eddie falters momentarily, mindlessly blinking and shaking his head, “Cover?”

Richie laughs and pats Eddie on the shoulder, “Yeah. The fucking cover,” he says, “so, whether you like it or not, you’re doing the interview. This is what the band needs.”

Eddie shakes his head, curly strands brushing the muscles of his shoulders, “We don’t need a goddamn cover, Richie. We’re not doing a fucking story—” “Yes, you are.” Richie doesn’t mean to make his voice boom through the arena, but it attracts attention either way, and he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose before clapping a hand onto the back of Eddie’s shoulder, turning both away from the stage.

“You’re putting out an album in a few months. You want it to sell, don’t you?”

Eddie clenches his jaw, teeth grinding against each other as he glances over his shoulder, annoyed when he catches you watching— almost smirks when you quickly look away as if you’d been caught red-handed. Despite Eddie’s strong will, he nods because fucking obviously he wants the album to sell— but at what cost?

Richie nods and squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, “Good. Then you’ll do the interview. She’ll be with us for all of New York, so play nice. We need a good piece.” and leaves Eddie with a pat on his shoulder. 

Eddie stands there for a moment, gathering himself and trying to cope with the fact that some fucking narc will be on their back for the next month. He doesn’t see or hear you walk up to him until you say his name. The barricade separates you, your fingers gripping the black railing as you stand before him. Eddie’s hands are on his hips, not moving an inch as he looks at you.

“I know you don’t want me here, but I… I’m just doing my job, and if you can cooperate, this will be easier for the both of us.”

And Eddie— god, Eddie can’t fucking believe the audacity.

“Did you fuck Richie?”

He watches you pull back, blinking at him as you stare silently. Eddie tilts his head, eyebrows raising to push the answer from you, “No, I didn’t—” You shake your head and blink hard in confusion, “Why would I—” “Because you want a good story.” Eddie snaps, “Right?”

Because that’s all anybody ever wants from him. A good story. A tale to tell their friends about. Tell them the secrets they pulled from Eddie Munson, tell them about the famous rockstar that fucked them backstage, tell them they know what makes him crack. A good story.

You gape at him, lost and shocked by the sudden confrontation. 

You straighten up and tilt your head, eyes growing harsh with anger as you respond, “No. I didn’t fuck Richie. I don’t fuck to get where I want, I pull strings, and I make it work,” you snap, “I treat people with the respect they deserve, and I get what I want. You could learn a few things from that.”

And with that, you’re gone. Leaving Eddie behind with a twisted face of annoyance. He watches you walk over to where Richie is and greet him, but he doesn’t stick around long enough to watch or tune in to the conversation, storming through the arena and grabbing his coat to get in the car and tell the driver to take him to his hotel.

One month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie can play along, he thinks. How hard can it be?

————

part two

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #hiii heres another wip don't say anything shhhh #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader #journalist!reader

[floq]

Meet the Artist

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a meet the artist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Important Tags:

Masterpost

art tag | redbubble | ko-fi

commissions

[image ID under the cut]

[image ID: Meet the artist meme of tumblr user floq. At the center of the image there's a drawing of myself in real life, this is a tall and slender femme presenting person with pale skin and shoulder length brown hair styled as a messy bob, they wear a pair of round glasses and their head is slightly tilted to the left. They wear a long black skirt paired with an oversized striped gray and black sweatshirt; they are wearing a pair of fingerless gloves, fishnets tights and combat boots. Behind this drawing of myself there's a drawing of my sona, which is a femme looking shadow creature with multiple eyes, shaggy shoulder length hair and white colored arms, they are waving at the viewer with their left hand.

There are multiple items in the scene that have different facts about myself. On the left side, from top to bottom we have:

a "Hello, my name is" sticker with the name "Florencia Quiroz" and the pronouns "They/she" written on it along side with three doodles of ghosts.

a yellow sticky note that lists my instagram @floq_art and my tumblr @floq.

a green and black birthday cake with candles that say "20" and my birthday (october 21st, 2003) written on it.

a burgundy heart that reads "I like... gothic music and subculture, horror media, coffee" as bullet points.

a drawing of my cat Romeo.

a drawing of character Danny Phantom from the show of the same name surrounded by green ghosts. next to the drawing says "Fav show: Danny Phantom".

On the right side, from top to bottom we have:

a drawing of the non-binary flag, a drawing of the asexual flag and a drawing of the autism infinity symbol.

doodles of eyes.

a drawing of my Sony WH-1000XM4 which I wear everywhere.

drawings of three different album covers from the artists Siousxie and the Banshees, The Cure and Gorillaz (the albums are: The Best Of... Siouxsie and the Banshees, Disintegration and Demon Days). below the albums it's written "my music taste".

doodles of two black bats.

drawing of the chilean flag with the words "I'm from:" written above.

Everything on scene is up against a plain olive green background. End of ID]

#the ID was a pain to write #i also changed the flag bc i originally had the flag of my home city #most of us are from chile so stating it on the drawing would’ve just been redundant #but there are a lot of people that come from different cities and regions all throughout the country #my art #floqsona #meet the artist #artists on tumblr

[drefear]

Sister's Mister

Summary: Your sister meets Miguel O'Hara, a smart playboy that goes to your college and you so happen to have a crush on. When the two start to date, he begins to act weird towards you.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

TW: Drinking, insecurity, family, throw up.

“Where’s my curling iron?” Your sister screamed from the other room, stomping around with a clip in her hair and her dress half-tied. You lounged on your bed as she ran around, both living at home still as you were both still in college. She was 4 years older than you, currently getting her PHD in psychology as you were currently in your third year of your undergraduate. Your major was chemistry , wanting to experiment and become a scientist that worked with enhancement drugs. 

You were 21, while your sister was 25, and you two were very close. Sometimes too close. Same taste in tv shows, shared clothing styles, and sometimes even men… 

But your sister was going on lots of dates, while you were woefully single. The two of you differed there. 

She was always out and about, jumping from man to man, while you stayed home and preferred to be alone. 

The quiet of your bedroom was comforting, just your fingers typing your essay on your keyboard as the fan cooled you down in the middle of the summer. You were taking summer classes to get a head start in your fourth year, wanting to hurry it up and jump into a career. 

“Did you borrow it?” She asked again and you sighed, closing your laptop and putting it on your bed. Getting up, you saw her rushing around and trying to tie the back of her dress. 

“No, I hate curling my hair.” You folded your arms as you leaned on the doorframe and watched her bend down to clasp her heels. 

“Come out with us tonight, I heard that super hot guy in your honors chem class is coming.” She wiggles her brows at you. 

Laughing, you shook your head. “Gianna, I already told you, I have to finish this assignment.” 

We both know you’re almost done with it, so hurry up and then get dressed. Gwen’s picking us up soon.” She threw a navy blue dress at you and you just nodded. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. 

It was a bad idea. You felt awkward in between all the sweaty, dancing bodies. You hated how close everyone was to you, practically on top of each other as the bass pounded into your ears. You sipped your gin and tonic, and found a seat at the bar, not wanting to constantly be bumped into by the group of other college kids in front of you. 

Gianna danced with her friends, who took you under their wing and tried to get you to be social, but it didn’t work. You stayed at the bar and watched. 

A hand on your shoulder made you turn and look into the chest of the man trying to get your attention. 

“Hey, you’re Gianna’s little sister, right?” 

 Gianna’s little sister.

That’s how you were constantly referred to, living in the shadow of your cool, popular older sister. You never minded before, but for some reason, it bothered you to hear tonight. 

“Yeah, she’s over there.” You pointed and looked back at his face. 

“She was talking to my friend for a while, he’s around here somewhere. I’m Peter, this is Hobie.” He pointed to the guy behind him and you finally absorbed the two men. 

Peter seemed like the normal straight white dude, light brown hair and a 10 o’clock shadow with the smell of axe body spray and a bright, wide smile. Hobie wore chains around his neck and a fishnet tank top with a black shirt underneath, wicks long and pointing in every direction. His piercings were shining in the club lights and the two couldn’t look any more different against each other. 

And here you were, the dress a bit tight on your front your sister’s thin, model-like frame. You had more plush to your thighs and butt than she did, as well as a fuller bust. The spandex fabric held you tight as you bit your bottom lip, shaking both of their hands. Hobie kissed the top of yours and you flustered a bit, Peter laughing. 

“My girlfriend is around here somewhere, and- oh, there’s Miguel.” He pointed and you watched as his eyes widened. “Oh boy…” You heard Peter chuckle as you turned to look at where he’d pointed and saw your sister in the arms of a big, muscular Greek god. You tilted your head and recognized him. 

“Miguel… O’Hara?” You said out loud. She wasn’t just fucking a guy from you chem class, she was fucking the smartest guy in your whole fucking major. 

“Yeah, you know him?” Peter asked and you just sighed, nodding. Unbeknownst to your dear sister, you’d had a massive crush on him since you saw him the first day, and now he had his mouth on her neck as they grinded against each other. 

The oxygen left your lungs as you felt your confidence deflate. Of course it would be him, you thought to yourself quietly and stood up. 

“Dance with me, girlie.” Hobie instructed and pulled you towards the swarm of gyrating people, not giving you much of a choice. You felt his hands fall on your hips as he guided you to the beat, watching your face as you blushed a bit from the close contact and effects of alcohol. “Relax, I got you.” He spoke and looked around, making eye contact with your sister as she smiled at something MIguel whispered in her ear. Your heart sank a little as you watched and Hobie smirked more, “You wanna make ‘em jealous, get closer to me.” Hobie whispered and you gulped, pressing against him as you saw your sister pulling Miguel towards you. You heard your name as you danced with the punk boy. 

“You know Miguel, right? Don’t you two have a class together?” She asked, and you were about to answer, but you didn’t even get a word out as he spoke. 

“Multiple, actually.” He nodded, eyes scanning up and down your body quickly, before smiling back to your sister. The two of them together looked like a famous couple, something you’d see in an ad for abercrombie. Wth his hand around her waist, you felt out of place, like you were interrupting even though they had approached you. Hobie’s hands slipped around you and you blinked back into the conversation. “Enough chatter, I’ve got a lady to seduce, yeah?” Hobie winked at your sister and pecked your cheek, making eye contact with Miguel. Wasn’t he Miguel's friend? Why would he want to make his friend jealous?

Your sister gave you a small thumbs up as Hobie pulled you away and continued to dance with you, watching Miguel stay focused on you over your shoulder. 

“Why did you do that?” You asked and he smiled down at you. 

“Cause ‘m bored, and Miguel needs a swift kick to the head. He’s blind if he can’t see that you’re the best lookin’ girl in the whole club.” Hobie’s words made you turn red and nod, “just have fun and forget him, he’s stupid.” He added and you leaned in closer, dancing with the rocker boy more. 

You left the club without your sister after watching her practically suck Miguel’s face off in a booth at the club, assuming she’d be leaving with him. And you’d been right, after getting an assuring text from her in the morning saying ‘BEST SEX EVER.’

You couldn’t hate your life anymore than you did at that second. 

Class went by as per usual, but instead of shamelessly gawking at the back of Miguel’s head, you tried to stay focused on anything but him. Which was working until you’d been dismissed and soon heard your name. 

Ignoring him, you felt tension in your shoulders. The last thing you’d wanted was to deal with the awkwardness of him asking for your sister’s number or asking about her life, or if you could put in a good word for him, or anything at all basically. You wanted to be left alone. 

Days later, you watched as your sister seemed to have more of a pep in her step, smiling at her phone all the time and seemingly wearing more perfume. She was definitely obsessed with him, but you also knew his reputation, and he was a player, a fuckboy. He slept with most of the sororities on campus and allegedly, even a few teachers. So when you opened your front door to see him holding a bouquet of flowers, wearing a dress shirt and smelling expensive, your jaw dropped. 

“Miggy!” Your sister called from behind you and jumped into his arms. You watched him twirl her around and just sighed, walking away. This had nothing to do with you, you told yourself, and moved into the kitchen to help your parents finish setting up the dining room table. 

“I didn’t know we were having Gianna’s new boyfriend over.” You glanced up to your mom, who just nodded. “Is this the official meet the parents night?” 

“Well, they’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now, so we thought we should meet him.” Your dad added and you dreaded the world. 

The whole dinner felt as if it were in slow motion, your ears filled with white noise until you heard your father say your name. 

“Hello? Earth to the baby of the group?” He called out and your mom laughed, your eyes snapping up to him. “Miguel said you two have had a few classes together.” 

“Uh, yeah.” You mumbled and ate a forkful of whatever-the-fuck your mother made. Looking around, you saw your sister gazing at her new boyfriend, who was staring at you expectedly. “So?” You looked between him and your father, who continued. 

“So, Miguel said that there was recently a boy interested in you?” He asked and your eyes shot to Miguel, who wore an expression that was unreadable. 

“What? Who?” You jumped around mentally trying to think of someone. 

“Just a rumor that some guy has a crush on you.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal and you shook your head. 

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“So you’re not interested in anyone?” Your mom questioned and you just kept your eyes on your plate, afraid to even answer. 

“Miggy, you should set her up with someone.” Your sister interjected and you just glanced up to her in shock, Miguel’s face mimicking your surprise. 

“I don’t know anyone she’d be compatible with.” He said and you frowned. Were you that unattractive in his eyes?

You continued to stab your food as your family talked, the peanut gallery fading to the background as you thought to yourself and wished that you were anywhere else. 

A text from your phone breaks your concentration and you look down to answer, agreeing to join a few friends for some drinks at their house later. What you didn’t see was Miguel’s eyes tracking your movements, watching you as you texted at the dinner table. 

“Honey, don’t be rude, we’re eating together!” Your mom chidded and you snapped your head up, nodding. “Sorry. I’m gonna finish early to get ready, a friend invited me over.” You mumbled quietly and you stood with your plate, leaving the table. 

Twenty minutes later and you were walking to the door as your family sat with MIguel in the living room. 

“Whose house are you going to?” Your sister asked as you grabbed your purse. 

“Just Miles.” You answered and Miguel’s body stiffened. 

“Miles… Morales?” He asked and your parents both glanced to MIguel, who looked upset. 

“Yeah, why?” You frowned in defense. 

“No reason, I’m just surprised that’s the type of person you hang out with.” He brought a beer to his lips, courtesy of your father, and his eyes challenged yours. Your hands balled into fists a bit and you looked angry. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You argued and your sister sighed loudly, putting a hand on MIguel’s thigh to try and de-escalate the situation forming. 

“Miles lived down the street from us for a long time, so they’re close.”

“He’s basically a delinquent.” Miguel said and your parents visibly began to think, which was never a good sign.

“He is not-” You tried to answer, but he continued. 

“He graffitis the walls near my internship, he skips classes, and he’s always stumbling around like he’s high.” Miguel’s words make your blood boil. 

“I’m sorry he’s not super popular or a frat boy, but he’s a good person and he’s smart, and he’s my friend!” You yelled, tears pricking your eyes as you squeezed them shut, then hating the silence that settled within the room. You looked around between everyone’s faces and found Miguel’s, still hard and on the offense. You sniffled and swiped your keys from the little dish in the doorway, looking at him again. “Shouldn’t you be less focused on me and more focused on banging my sister?” You hissed and left as your parents shouted your name in disgust, not even looking back when you slammed the door. You wiped your tears with your sleeve and ran to your car, getting in and driving off as fast as possible. 

The night was a blur, Miles and Gwen feeding you drinks to make you feel better after you told them you got in an argument with your sister’s new snot-nosed boytoy. 

“Who does he even think he is? Big and fuckin’...” You droned on, slurring your words as you laid your head in Gwen’s lap. She pet your hair as Miles drew something in his notebook, probably his girlfriend who was holding you as you drunkenly vented about your secret crush. 

“Mind if I invite some other friends?” Miles asked and Gwen shook her head while you were too distracted to even hear him. 

The door opened twenty minutes later and you saw Hobie walk in with a 12 pack of beer on his shoulder, and that made you smile. “Hobie!” Gwen got up and hugged the skinny-jean wearing boy, who set down the beers and then dapped up Miles. His eyes found you and he gave you a small grin. 

“Looks like you managed to get loose finally.” He handed you another beer and you happily took the bottle, taking a swig as you nodded. “You look absolutely fit.” His eyes took you in as you did a little clumsy twirl, watching another boy follow behind him. He was either Indian or middle eastern, with shaggy black hair and a big, white smile. “This is Pav.” Hobie introduced you two and he hugged you, taking in your outfit. 

“You look so nice, even drunk!” He added and you just laughed, enjoying the little bits of attention you got, not used to being the center of attention. 

Everything moved fast as you pumped music louder and the room became more and more full of people. Before any of you knew it, the entire place was packed and it had become a house party. Heavy music played and you danced wildly, swaying your hips and rolling your body to the beat as Gwen laughed and danced beside you. Pav and Hobie were currently occupying the couch, as Hobie had a girl on his lap and Pav talked excitedly to Miles about something he saw that day. The feeling of freedom coursed through your veins, intertwined with alcohol. It wasn’t like the night at the club, no, you were hammered and it felt great. The feeling was interrupted by vibrating in your pocket, to which you went to find a quiet place to answer the call. 

Stumbling into Miles’s room, you sat down and checked your phone. 

“Hello?” Your sister’s voice came through and you pouted. 

“‘M busy.” You sputtered out. 

“Are you drunk?” 

“...No.” You hesitated, knowing you were an incredibly shitty liar. Especially while you were trashed. 

“Oh my god, I’m coming to get you.” 

“No! ‘M happy!” You yelped, then threw your body down on the bed and stretched out. “I’m staying. Go suck Miguel’s dick or somethin.” You smiled at your funny joke. You were so funny. 

“No, we’re coming to get you, so stay there.” She spoke and before you could answer, she hung up. Sighing, you furrowed your brows and laid there for what only felt like a minute before you stumbled back out of the bedroom, finding the sliding glass door and making your way to the backyard. 

The grass felt good on your bare feet and you plopped yourself into it fully, laying back and spreading out in the greenery. 

“Get up.” The strong, deep voice was fuzzy in your mind and you just smiled, not recognizing it right away. 

“Lay down with me.” You answered and closed your eyes again, fingers playing with the blades of grass by your sides. “Look at the sky with me.” 

“Your eyes are closed.” He answered and you giggled. 

“The stars are so beautiful.” You rambled, and a large hand brushed against your cheek, eyes now opening to see Miguel crouching by your drunk, splayed out body. 

“So are you.” He answered and you felt your stomach tighten, nervousness pulling at your insides as you suddenly couldn’t breathe from butterflies. 

Not butterflies. Throw up.

And then you were hacking and wreching to the side of you into the grass, coughing up your dinner from before and feeling someone hold your hair back. A soft ‘oh my god’ was heard from the back door and soon you heard the hurried clacking of heels. Your sister bent down by Miguel and squeezed one of your hands, worry all over her face. That’s when everything turned black.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #angst #atsv miguel

[beansprean]

I adore Derek’s new gothpunk e-boy aesthetic and am sprinkling my own weeb hc on top!! I love him 😍

(Feel free to use his nakey self if you want to draw other fits on him, just don’t erase the watermark!)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Derek smiling nervously, left hand at his side and the other held up like ‘nya’. He is wearing a black studded collar, a scoop neck black shirt with crying anime eyes, bleach stained light jeans cuffed over black combat boots, and a puffy camouflage jacket with a hood. He also has fingerless gloves and several chains attached to o rings looped around his belt.

2. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark blue long sleeves shirt with thumb holes, frayed hems, and elbow patches under a tattered white tee shirt with horizontal rips that says "blood lust rave" in dripping black font. Beneath are black jeans with a studded belt and red suspenders hanging tucked into knee high burgundy leather combat boots. He has on several gold and silver rings, a tattoo choker, a studded collar, a long necklace with a few rings, and a dark red beanie.

3. Repeat. Derek is wearing a black and white striped long sleeve turtleneck under a black Otoboke Beaver tee shirt and loose black jeans tucked into white platform boots. He has several silver rings a silver chain around his neck, and another looped through several o rings around his belt.

4. Repeat. Derek is wearing a loose dark red striped sweater with a rip at the neckline affixed with safety pins, dark wash skinny jeans with multiple rips down the thighs and knees over fishnet tights, and checkered high top sneakers. He has dogtags, a pentagram necklace, and a studded collar around his neck and multiple chains, padlocks, and handcuffs hanging from his belt with o rings.

5. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark loose sweater with thumb holes, a ripped off collar connected with safety pins, and fishnet material from the waist down. It's tucked into loose black skater pants with dangling hooks and suspenders and an askew studded belt, unzipped at the calf to show red material underneath. Black converse peek out beneath the flared cuffs.

6. Repeat. Derek is wearing a white collared shirt under a black tee shirt that says “vampire weekday” in slashy red font and black jeans with red splatter on the knees tucked into red ankle boots. He has on several rings, a few chains and a padlock around his neck, and a studded belt.

7. Repeat. Derek is wearing a short sleeve dark grey button up with a white scallop pattern and rolled sleeves, unbuttoned past his sternum to show off the gold pendant around his neck. The shirt is tucked into dark wash jeans with a snakeskin belt, cuffs rolled to mid calf, a few inches above shiny burgundy ankle boots.

8. Repeat. Derek is wearing a pale lavender turtleneck with black fishnet sleeves that hook around his fingers like gloves tucked into black skinny jeans with a studded belt. He has a thick black studded collar with an o ring and a matching harness strapped across his chest, the center o ring attached to a leash he holds in his left hand. He has several chains attached to o rings at his belt and his jeans are tucked into huge black gothic platform boots with several straps.

9. Repeat. Derek is wearing an oversized black hoodie over distressed and ripped up jeans and scuffed brown hiking boots with the laces double wrapped around his ankles. His hoodie has some red lacing down the arms and at the cuffs, and at the center is a red square with a crying anime girl rendered in black with white lineart. Red text in Japanese on either side reads "lonely vampire"

10. Repeat. Derek is wearing black briefs. /End ID

#wwdits #derek wwdits #paper doll #goth fashion #punk fashion #eboy fashion #shadowsart #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

[llumimoon]

making an AU based off a show based off a doll line means I go WAY TOO HARD on trying to figure out the fits.

here are the designs for the Ever After High AU !!! :D the story this time around is like. WAY too complicated to explain in one post but like the super duper summarized version is this:

For generations the citizens of Ever After have been following the tradition of signing a magical contract in the Storybook of Legends promising to relive their parents' fairytales to keep the stories alive. But there's a bit of an uproar when the newest Evil Queen in ages refuses to follow her destiny and things start to get a little complicated as the students at Ever After High realize that maybe not everything has been played by the book in the past. When Normal breaks a magic mirror he REALLY wasn't supposed to find, his life and story are thrown into chaos. Add in some wildcard Wonderlandians and now nothing's going according to the script. Is a happily ever after really possible?

The AU doesn't follow the show to an exact T, we mostly borrowed some elements and the initial Raven and Apple conflict so there's quite a lot of surprises in store :3c

(EAH AU made by @rindomness, @kaseyskat, and I!! <3 :])

Edit: more designs

image description under the cut

[ID: Four Images of dndads season 2 characters in an Ever After High AU, the first two images being design pages and the last two being doodle pages.

Image 1: A character line up of three designs, from left to right Scary Marlowe, Normal Oak, and Hermie Unworthy. They are each labeled with the fairytale characters they represent, from left to right Evil Queen, Snow White, and Mad Hatter. Hermie has a speech bubble that says "Hello ~ Audience! (yes you looking here)". On the far left Scary stands with her left hand on her hip and her right hand resting palm up with swirlfs of magenta and purple magic coming up from it. She has a serious look on her face and is wearing black mascara and purple eyeshadow. Her hair is various shades of purple to pink and is put up in a side ponytail with a spiky silver hair accessory along with a silver chain around her forehead. She is wearing a black cape with a magenta underside and a sleeveless ankle length dress and long fishnet gloves. The dress has a fishnet neckline and a purple jewel with silver wings on her chest that connects to the hood of her cape. There are chains that connect on he bottom of the jewl to loop around her back. She is wearing a black corset with silver lacing and the bottom of the corset is embellished with silver feathers and a stylized silver crow head. The skirt has a slit down the right leg that is connected with a silver chain and has a dark purple mesh layer on the top half of it. She is wearing black leggings underneath and platform ankle boots that are also decorated with mesh, chains, and lace. She has spiky silver bracelets and fingerless gloves on the back of her hand that connect to a silver ring with a purple gem on her middle finger. To her right stands Normal who is at shoulder length height to Scary and stands up to Hermie's eyes on his left. Normal stands with his right hand up holding a red apple and his left hand playfully posed out by his side. He is smiling cheerfully with an open mouth and has one green and one brown eye. He is wearinf a small tilted red and gold heart shaped crown with a teal bow on the bottom. He has short curly brown hair. He is wearing a white high collared shirt with long sleeves, lace details, and puffy teal shoulders. He has a short red cape attached to a big red bow with gold trip on his chest and a gold apple brooch in the center. He has a brown belt with a gold buckle and gold chains connected to the belt loops. He has puffy teal shorts with three red slits on each side and a white lace trim. He has sheer white tights with white vertical strips and red and white boots with gold detailing and a brown heel. To his left stands Hermie who has his right hand holding a teacup filled with tea at his stomach and his right hand is up to wave at the viewer. He is smirking and has teal hair with various turquoise and pink highlights. He is wearing a purple and magenta striped hat wirh a teal polkadot bow. He also is wearing teal glasses with a circle and square frame with purple and pink lenses and a rose gold glasses chain. He has a striped teal vest that has a long coat tail with pink and purple detailing on the underside. He has a rose gold pocket watch in his vest pocket and a purple and magenta bow on his chest. The collared shirt underneath is a light striped pink and lavender with puffy sleeves that turn into big circle sleeves with a lace trim. He has pink and purple gloves with a magenta ribbon around his wrists. His skirt is mid thigh length and has three layers, the top layer is magenta and has teal and purple polkadots, the second layer is vertically striped with pink and lavender, and the bottom layer is lavender lace, and the whole skirt has rose gold detailing. He has thigh high horizontally striped socks with lace trim and teal, pink, and purple heel boots with purple bows and laces.

Image 2: A character lineup of two designs, zoomed in so that the lower legs are cut off. Link is on the left labeled Prince Charming while Taylor is on the right labeled Queen of Hearts. Taylor has a mischievous smile on his face and his fist in the air as he shouts "Off with their heads!" while Link has one hand up to stifle a laugh and a fond expression and the other hand rests on the hilt of his sword on his belt. Link is dressed in white and gold princely attire that matches Normal's color scheme and a similar but longer red cape and a teal belt sash. He has gold shoulder tassels and a simple golden crown. Taylor has red streaks in his hair and two heart shaped space buns. He also has a golden crown with red heart shaped gems on them, a heart card earring, and a red collar with a heart lock charm. His dress has a high white neck collar that goes around the back of his head and connects to a short jacket with puffy red and black striped sleeves and a white lace trim and golden heart lapel pins connected by a chain. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and is split down to his waist in a V shape in order to mimics the appearance of a white heart on his top. The dress then flares out into a big poofy skirt that has frills at the bottom and has big red and black stripes on it. A sheer top skirt has a white and gold checkered diamond pattern on it. He also has white and red striped tights and black mary janes with a red heel and a golden heart clasp. He's also holding a golden staff with a red heart jewl at the top.

Image 3: A dark grey doodle page on a light grey background. Normal is standing with an exasperated expression on his face and is squatting with his arms out shouting "Am I the only one who cares about following our destinies!?". In the bottom left corner Link os holding Taylor in a princess carry, the both of them grinning with their eyes closed. An arrow is pointing at Link that is labeled 'was supposed to be Norm's prince'. Scary is in the bottom right turned toward Normal with her tongue sticking out and her middle finger up. Her bangs obscure her face. Hermie is in the top right looking at the viewer with his hand cupped toward his face saying "Don't worry, he'll figure it out" with a knowing smile. His eyes are obscured by his glasses.

Image 4: A dark grey doodle page on a light grey background with a sequence of events that go from left to right down the page. Normal is looking desperately up at Scary and clutching an injured arm while Scary looks concernedly down at Normal with her hands hovering. Behind her stands Hermie who's in a intense thinking pose with a hand on his chin. Scary says "Norm what-" and is interrupted by Normal saying "I need your help. I didn't know where else to go." Hermie has a thought bubble above his head that says "Is this im the script?" The next section has Hermie snapping with his eyes closed saying "I'll make it a comedy then, that'll fix it." The next section shows a loud bang on the door behind Normal who looks surprised and the section after has someone outside the door say "Oh thank GOD," while Normal sighs in relief. The last section has Scary with a frustrated look on her face and her hands up with magic energy coming up saying in all caps "Ok what the fuck is going on." /end ID]

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads s2 #dungeons and daddies season 2 #cal draws #eah dndads au #scary marlowe #normal oak #hermie unworthy #lincon li wilson #taylor swift dndads #described #this au is marloakworthy qpr and romantic swiftli in the B plot LMAO #hermie does have 4th wall breaking powers tehe #and yeah all the kiddads are gonna play a role in the plot #Lark and Sparrow ESPECIALLY. #if u want to know what roles they had before Sparrow was also Snow White while Lark was . the Huntsman . #the destiny usually goes to the oldest sibling but its a bit of a mess when twins get involved #and yeah. Hero does exist. I wonder what happened to her . :] #we also p much made it so Wonderland = Hell since its also a diff dimension from Ever After #which means all the Close Fosters are Alice in Wonderland characters #its very very fun . esp bc they have diff attitudes towards stories and destinies #this au is simultaneously very silly and also very tragic #sorry Norm we gave u the worst complex known to man . idk how it got worse from canon but it did . #marloakworthy get to go through All The Horrors while swifli hold hands and skip through a flower field

[fairyofjaeyun]

c b g ➳ hotel room ꕤ

[1:36] now playing: hotel - montell fish

[warning] femdaddy kink, light feminization (gyu wearing fishnets), filming, spanking, degrading, doll pet name, begging, rimming, fingering (male receiving), pegging, bulge kink, fake cum, breeding kink (male receiving), use of they/them pronouns for reader (once), pwp

2nd person // 1.7K words

requested 💟

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in the hotel room, beomgyu was propped up onto his elbows and knees, his ass facing the large ring light and camera. his tan skin was smooth; waxed to perfection. his spread, pink fishnet-cladded legs showed off his puckering brown hole, along with his wet tip that peeked below his balls.

you hit record and walk towards him, the bed dipping as you sit beside him. you lightly run your nails along his cheeks, experimentally, and beomgyu whimpers, his body shivering form your light scratching. “look at you, already so sensitive.” you giggle, making him pout. “I know, sweetie. don’t worry, daddy will take care of you.”

beomgyu peers at you over his shoulder, his lips still pouting. “daddy’s gonna fill me up with their cum, right?” he teases you by backing up towards you and wiggling his ass, only to jerk and yelp when his cheek is struck with your hand.

you chuckle, rubbing his irritated skin, “of course, my doll. and you’re gonna be a good slut and take what daddy gives you, right?”

he nods, his waved hair bouncing ever so slightly.

“right?” you repeat, squeezing his ass tight and letting your nails dig into his skin.

beomgyu cries out and hisses, letting his arms collapse beneath him, “yes, daddy! I can take it.”

you bend down and give him a kiss on the peak of his shoulder, your lip color printing on his skin. “there you go,” you say and go back to the lower half of his body. his back now deeply arched, practically presenting his ass to you.

you let your hands wander around his cheeks, groping and squeezing at every little flab of flesh you could find. beomgyu leaned into your touch, his body beginning to shiver as your hands traveled lower towards his poor dick that was so hard and contained by the pretty pink tights. he whines loudly when he feels your fingers run down his balls all to the way to his tip, his dick twitching and precum dripping beneath him.

“please, daddy, please…” he whines oh so softly, shifting his body as more precum comes out of his slit. he looks over his shoulder once he hears your laugh, watching your hands reattach themselves to his ass. then, while facing the camera, you bring your head next to him and slowly lick his ass cheek.

beomgyu gasps because it feels unexpectedly good, despite it just being you teasing him. your other hand is still squeezing him, your nails occasionally pressing into him. then suddenly your finger begins prodding at his hole through the fishnets, causing him to moan and bite his lip.

“such a needy little thing,” you start, almost in a trance as you watch his hole flutter beneath your finger, “so desperate to be filled.” gently, you start adding pressure, the tip of your finger slowly entering him. the raw stretch oddly making his stomach flare up.

without a second thought, you rip open his tights, now giving yourself full access to his hole. beomgyu couldn’t try to hold back his excitement as he moans and dips his head back down between his shoulders. “oh, you like that?” you turn towards him, “such a slutty little doll.” you spank him and he jerks, another lewd noise escaping his lips.

you move behind him, in between his legs, positioning yourself for the camera in front of the bed while gazing into the second one propped up beside the bed. you give a quick peck to his upper thigh, leaving another faint lipstick stain before licking his asshole. you could feel him melt from your tongue as he lets out a drawn “oh,” his hole puckering from the attention.

“yes, daddy! your tongue feels so good,” beomgyu groans as you lick him again, trying desperately not to wrap his hand around his cock. he was trying so hard to be good so you could fuck him how he wanted you to.

you continue to eat him out while running your hands up and down his legs. his skin feels so hot. you licked and fucked his hole with your tongue until he started squirming and loudly pleading to you, “please, daddy! I need you inside of me, please! I’ve been good, I’ve been good!”

you pull away from him with a smack of your lips and see the sheen of spit that now coating and dripping down his hole. he was more than ready now. “alright, baby. daddy will stretch you out now.”

you grab the lube that was on the corner of the bed as beomgyu repeated endless lines of “thank you”s. you flip open the cap and pour a generous amount on his asshole, which clenches from the cool temperature of the liquid, then coat your fingers with the same amount. you start with two fingers, letting them gradually be swallowed by his walls before pumping them in and out at a decent pace.

beomgyu is nothing but loud as you prep him and add a third finger that slides inside him with ease. “fuck, please,” he whimpers when you hit his prostate, feeling his orgasm building up as his whole body flushes.

you remove your fingers immediately, “no, you’re not cumming yet.” he whines in protest but doesn’t dare to open his mouth knowing that you were going to fuck him.

he had to look back and see you put on your strap. you attached the new dildo, just as he hoped. the big, veiny one (about 9 inches in length and over 2 inches in girth) that could squirt fake cum inside of him and will probably leave him sore for days. he clenches his asshole in excitement as he waits anxiously for it to be inside of him, and as soon as it’s secured around your hips, he takes both of his hands and spreads himself open for you.

“good doll, so eager to take daddy’s dick,” you said, admired by beomgyu’s slutty behavior. you line the head of the dildo to his hole, playfully rubbing it around his rim to get a desperate noise out of him.

“tell me how much you want it,” you ordered him, locking your fingers into his long hair. beomgyu whimpers from your nails scratching him and your fingering tugging on his scalp. he starts stammering, failed words turning into hushed gasps as you leaned your strap closer to his entrance; his mind corrupted with thoughts of you fucking him.

“I-I need it so bad, daddy. I wanna feel it stretching my tight little hole and my little tummy until they’re filled up with cum and it’s leaking out of me. please!” beomgyu ends his pleads with an empty sob as you finally push the tip inside of him. a smirk tugs your lips as you enter him in a painfully slow pace.

“that’s it,” you mutter as you watch him bottom out with ease, your core heating up at the fact that you’d be able to replay his hole stretching around you whenever you edit the video, however many times as you please.

he moans loudly when he feels the fake balls near his rim, instinctively arching back for more of you even though it was impossible for you to push even further. then he cries out, “oh!” his hand flies towards his belly, “I-I feel…” his brains practically melts to mush as he feels the bulge of his belly, whatever words he wanted to spit on completely evaporated from his consciousness.

“aww, you feel it stretching your tummy, baby? you feeling okay?” you check up on him, peering over his shoulder to look at his face. from what you could see beneath his long locks, he was already pretty fucked out—lips swollen, eyelids heavy, hair messy. you move a section of hair away from his eye and he looks at you with begging eyes.

“I’m okay. please keep going.”

and so you started thrusting into him. you start at slow but rough pace, letting him get used to the new length but not teasing him any longer. beomgyu didn’t hold back with his lewd noises, as always, giving you a wonderful variety of moans, groans, and whimpers as you picked up the pace.

“you’re such a good boy, gyu,” you said between your own moans, unable to resist them when the base of dildo rubs against your clit. you spank him hard, and he nearly screams as you both feel your skin sting and bloom an irritated red.

“o-only for you, d-daddy,” he slurs, eyes rolling back as his body heats up and his cock bobs between his legs, “c-can I…?”

“go ahead, doll,” you tell him as you grab his hips roughly, “cum for daddy.” and you quickly squeeze the balls of the dildo and faux cum shoots inside beomgyu alongside his own cum that spurts out of his cock onto the bed and the inside of his thighs with a pretty sob coming from his wet lips.

after letting him calm down from his orgasm you grab the camera beside the bed and hold it over his ass to capture you taking your strap out of him with your other hand spreading him open. fake cum instantly drips out of his ruined hole as you empty him, leaving him gaping and clenching around nothing as he whines.

“good boy,” you nearly whisper, then shut the camera off and crawl next to beomgyu. his eyes were shut and his breathes were long and deep in and out of his nose as he started to drift off. you attempted to fix his fluffy hair, but some strands stubbornly fell back into their unassigned part.

you then hear beomgyu mumble something beneath his breath, his volume and his pouting making you unable to comprehend it. “I’m sorry?”

“hold me,” he said gently. he was moments away from falling asleep.

“of course,” you whispered—how could you say no? you scooted next to him so you lay down, then lifted him into your arms, resting his head onto your chest. he moaned softly when he got comfortable and let his body rest against you, falling asleep almost immediately after you started rubbing his back with your fingers.

you yourself weren’t tired, but it didn’t matter. you just smiled to yourself at the thought of watching yourself trace figures on his soft back from the other camera.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

@donghoonie-3 @femdomlieeh @sugar-petals @k-femdove @bookobsessedfreak @hello-stranger24 @lynanist @sobiood @yahaballa @imagine-this-motherfucker @enhypensunoostan @d7dream @toiletfeet68 @naevis-we-love-you @noeyelles15 @venicefukingbitch @mafareshi @l1ttlem00n1e @reallysparklychaos @call-me-nev @applesooyoung

#requests «💟» #sub!beomgyu #sub!txt #sub!tomorrow x together #sub!idol #sub!kpop #dom!reader #dom!fem!reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #beomgyu oneshots #txt oneshots

[jiminiecrickets]

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2.4k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, oral (r. receiving), cock worship, boot worship, sir kink, feminisation + crossdressing

it's no secret that jungkook likes to be pretty. he loves dressing up, choosing a belt to go with his shoes, doing his makeup while directing you on how to best match him for a couple's outfit. but neither is it a secret that out of the two of you, he's the one in charge of your outward appearances.

so, when you appear in a crisp suit and show him a cute white gift bag stuffed with purple tissue paper to hide its contents, he's more than a little suspicious, and rather thrown-off. you want to dress him? preposterous!

then he sees what you've bought him, and all of his grumbling immediately ceases.

"what do you say, darling?"

he gazes up at you through his lashes, his blush extending down his neck and shoulders. his tanned skin, like burnished gold, is warmed by the rosy glow. he's dressed in a tiny black skirt and a black bustier, complete with fishnets and a garter belt, and ankle-strap stiletto heels. he's a classic beauty – nothing ever looks bad on him. "th-thank you, sir..."

you hum, crossing your ankle over your knee. your sleek black leather shoes catch the low light of the lamp behind you. you could get used to this. "you're welcome, baby. you look so good in black, don't you? mind giving me a spin?"

he nibbles on his plump lower lip and fidgets with his hands. he gives you a little spin, giggling shyly when you groan wantonly at the sight of his skirt flying up for a split second to reveal his lace panties. "what do you think, sir? did you get the right size?"

"did i get the right size," you mutter mockingly under your breath, grabbing his hips and tugging him in close. you press a soft kiss to his bulge as you gaze up at him, his cock pressed up against his stomach beneath the cloth of his skirt. "fuck, baby, this was mostly a joke, but..."

"but?" he whispers inquisitively, playing with the hem of his soft skirt. he strokes your hair, humming softly as he sways to a sweet pop song playing faintly in the apartment above you. the strappy black top hugs every curve and plane of his chest and you can't help but feel a tiny bit jealous.

"but i can't tell if i should keep you like this, or..." your warm hand slides down the tight curve of his ass. "get to the main course."

he bites his lip to suppress his shy smile, trailing his hands lightly over your shoulders as he lowers himself to his knees. he slides his hands down against the insides of your knees, settling himself neatly between them. "your dessert is waiting, sir. better finish quickly."

you huff. he's not supposed to be the one making demands of you. but his chest looks so good in that little heart-shaped neckline, filling it out nice and tight. he glances down at himself slyly and leans forward, arching his back with his hands between his thighs. he giggles at your slow sigh.

"you really like it, don't you, sir?" he drawls out the title almost mockingly – the tease. "maybe i should dress all pretty like this again. if i knew you liked my tits so much, i would've showed them off more often."

"you wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off of them if you did," you mutter, leaning back in your chair and watching as he drags your zipper down with his teeth, your belt already undone. it was no defence at all to him.

"i know," jungkook hums sweetly, hooking a finger under the waistband of your underwear. he grins, shockingly innocent despite his outfit and what he's doing. "i like it when you look at me."

he drags his tongue, hot and wet, along the underside of your cock and wraps his lips around the tip, moaning at the taste. you comb your fingers through his hair, tilting your head back with a soft groan. he takes a few more inches, sucking wetly, and strokes what he can't fit in one hand, gazing up at you with those huge brown eyes that can do no harm.

"don't look at the ceiling," he whines, lapping hungrily at the head of your cock and sliding the tip of his tongue along the slit, where precum leaks in little beads. "i want you to look at me, sir."

"fuck," you breathe, lowering your gaze. "my little attention whore, hm?"

he hums in agreement around your dick, his lips parting as he forces it down his throat. he gags but doesn't let that stop him, attempting it again without a second thought.

he's so fucking warm, so fucking tight. his throat pulses around your cock as he swallows constantly to avoid gagging on your length, bobbing shallowly.

jungkook can't speak, but you can see his reply in the heated, heavy depth of his gaze. all yours. he grabs your hips, pulling your cock deeper down his throat, and you suck in a hiss as his nose brushes your stomach, his plush wet lips wrapped tight around your base. spit-slick, he swallows your cock like a damn porn star, moaning around it as he grinds into air. his tall black heels press against his ass with each roll.

you take your time enjoying the sight, guiding his head to slow him down. he's too eager, choking on your cock to an unsteady beat, and you have to teach him otherwise. saliva drips down his chin as he pants and sucks wetly, moans coming out in short staccato stutters. he's always been a pillow princess, talking big game until you actually do things to him. he melts the moment you put your mouth on him, and his fucked-out expressions and babbled love confessions never cease to swell your heart.

he adores receiving, but on the rare occasions that you let him please you, it gets his head all hot and fuzzy. he's your boy and he will be good.

he mouths at your cock, panting softly against it. the heat of his breath makes it twitch, and he licks his lips as he envelops the thick head in his mouth, tongue dragging against the glans. he gazes up at you, deep brown eyes large and sweet, and leaves hungry, lingering kisses along your shaft and tip.

"good girl," you mutter, combing his silky hair from his forehead and twisting it in your fist, a makeshift ponytail. he moans loudly on your cock, gulping down the inches as if he's starved.

his hips judder weakly against your leg. his cock is meltingly hot, throbbing inside the tight panties. the cotton threads of his fishnets dig tightly into his sensitive skin; he whines around your dick as his head spins with the pain, gripping your calf with one clawed hand. the muscle of your leg flexes beneath his nails. the leather garter belt pinches around his thick thighs, and the way that there's too much of him to fit makes your mouth water.

"mmhm," he mumbles, your cock still stuffed in his mouth. he draws back and suckles on the tip, cheeks hollowing, and moans as you tug sharply on his hair and tap your cock on his slick, plump lips. "sir, please – no more, want it inside me, want you in me so bad, i'll do anything..."

"didn't fuck you hard enough yesterday, did i?" you ask, amused. you shift your grip in his hair, guiding his lips to your cock again. he parts his lips eagerly, taking it in with a soft sigh. he grinds his caged cock into your leg. "mm, look at you, such a pretty thing all dressed up f'me. feel like the luckiest guy on the planet."

jungkook averts his gaze, tucking his shoulders inwards involuntarily. he strokes your cock to a quick beat, heart fluttering at the sound of your pleased groan. "th-thank you, baby... i like the heels."

"mm, me too. make your legs go on for days." you stroke his hair and he moans softly around your cock as your nails scrape, tingling, over his scalp. he relaxes his jaw and sinks down on you as far as he can, lips stretched white around your cock as he sucks wetly. his tongue flicks against it, rubbing and gliding, and the soaking heat of his mouth and the tightness of his throat have the coil in your lower stomach twisting to breaking point. you release a string of colourful curses as he bobs his head, rapid and shallow, and you cup the back of his neck, pushing him deeper down on your cock.

he mewls, the wet sounds echoing around the room obscene and filthy. he grinds his cock desperately into your leg, arching his spine and shoving his cock tight against the laces of your oxfords. he lifts his skirt to feel more of you, and his cute cock peeks over the top of his black panties. the pink goes so well with the black.

he gets sloppy. his movements are rushed and needy, more like humping than grinding, and he mewls when your composure cracks and you thrust up harshly into the heat of his mouth.

he loves the taste of you. it's a dirty, lewd confession, even to make to himself, and he can't help but whimper in embarrassment as waves of white-hot lust roll over his body, touching every nerve and vein until all he can think is more.

he'd lick up all of you if he could. your cock, your stomach, your chest, the soft underside of your chin – and he knows what you look like sweat-slick and exhausted only because he pesters you until you go to the gym together. when you are fucking him into the mattress he's usually too gone to truly appreciate it.

he wishes so dearly to run his tongue over every part of you. every hard plane, every soft curve – he wants to learn it, taste the salt of your sweat, shower you with kisses like you do with him.

but for now, he'll placate himself with the thick heat of your cock buried down his throat. there's a reason he offered his body as a prize, free to play with as desired – he's too shy to initiate all of it himself. you're a little louder – or, at least, you're crasser, and you like to make him go beet red in embarrassment when you whisper in his ear about all the bad things you want to do to him. maybe, when he's feeling brave again, he'll write it down on a cute square of paper and tuck it into your pocket when you're not looking.

jungkook comes first, suddenly and violently. he grinds against your leg with a needy cry, swallowing your cock haphazardly until you come down his throat, tight and hot and clamping around you with each gulp and breath. his nails dig into your thighs, scrabbling at the smooth dark cloth, and he slows as he milks your cock with the smooth muscle of his throat. his eyes are shut, flushed face lax with pleasure, and his cock throbs in its binds. cum spurts rhythmically against his stomach, dripping down the inside of his pretty skirt. it smears against the creases of his inner thighs and he squirms, panting – hot and dazed – as he finally, begrudgingly, draws off your cock with a wet pop.

he sits back on his heels, arms trembling slightly as he grips onto you for support. with dark, glazed eyes, he parts his lips, showing off his empty mouth. you tuck his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his head to the side; you swipe your thumb over a spot of cum and place it gently between his lips, groaning softly as he leans in and sucks it clean.

you smirk, shifting your leg. his come is smeared along the tip of your black leather shoe, marring its otherwise pristine surface. "clean it up, babygirl."

he blushes dark, burning up beneath his skin, and he places his hands demurely between his thighs as he lowers himself and licks it up. he moans softly, completely under your spell.

at your assenting hum, he sits back on his heels. he pants softly and grins, wide and perfectly content.

"you, mh, wanna fuck me, now?"

you scoff and roll your eyes, tucking yourself away. standing, you grab his upper arm and toss him onto the bed, seizing his hip and rolling him onto his stomach. you tug his hips upwards and his eyes widen as you hook the panties between his legs under your finger, moving it aside.

"w-wait, my clothes—!"

he squeaks as you slap the ample flesh of his ass. he whines, struggling to his knees and leaning back against your chest. you kiss his temple and squeeze his sensitive cock in one hand.

"i hope you don't ruin this skirt," he complains breathily, thrusting into your palm as he tucks his face into your neck. "otherwise, i'm going to be very upset with you, mister."

"well, i bought these clothes, so i can do what i want with them." you snicker. "but yes, there is another pair – don't you worry."

jungkook huffs. "good. now, you gonna fuck me, or what? wanna feel stretched, baby. you gotta fuck my brains out or i'm breaking up with you right here."

you gasp in offence, pushing him gently down and lowering your face to his ass. you smirk as he inhales sharply with realisation and you give his ass a good smack, watching him jerk and grind against air.

"you'd break up with me for that?" you tease. "i wouldn't even be able to make it up to you."

"i guess you better—" his eyes flutter closed and his head drops to the pillows as your tongue drags over his clenching asshole, severely neglected until now. "y-you better do well, then... oh, fuck—!"

suffice to say, when you wake up, you are still jungkook's boyfriend.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #bts x male reader #dom reader #top reader #bottom bts #bottom jungkook #jungkook x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut

[st-kitten]

707 pt.4 christmas special

← previous chapter next chapter →

WARNINGS: soft toji... (we all deserve it), choking, hickeys

NEXT PART COMING SOON: SMUTTIEST SMUTTY SMUT SMUTTIER THAN SMUT HAS EVER SMUTTED (hopefully)

you stood in your kitchen, making hot chocolate for yourself and megumi upon his insistence. it was early evening and megumi had woken toji up from his five hour long nap to ask him to play. and like a moody man, he dropped him off at your house, going back to bed.

so, after an hour of sketching with him and letting him play on one of your guitars, you placed him on the kitchen counter. megumi latched onto you like a slug until you agreed to make him hot chocolate. he looked at you with so much love. you had been a welcome surprise for him. he adored how you let him be himself unconditionally. you encouraged his hobbies, helped him find new ones, and you never forced him to behave. you had become his safe space too.

you let megumi decorate some cookies you'd baked with icing cream. he was truly an artist. you watched him hold the icing bag with his tiny hands and fill in the star shaped cookies.

the shelf against your door creaked and moved as toji barged inside your house (which you didn't mind of course).

"put it back in place. there's no point in that barricade if you end up pushing through it, you know..." you said from your kitchen.

toji kicked the shelf with his knee to push it back against the door. he stood, leaning against the kitchen island, eyes shifting between you and the cookies megumi showed him.

he held back a laugh watching your outfit for the day. the way you paired miscellaneous items of clothing and still came out with an outfit had his eyes glued to you. you wore fishnet tights, a brown plaid skirt, beige turtleneck and a huge cardigan that engulfed you. you felt his eyes staring at you. not staring at you, but, well, checking you out. his mind always wandered. never to bad places, but his thoughts were usually, well, dirty...

you poured an extra mug of hot chocolate for him too. you dipped your finger in megumi's mug to check how hot it was.

"i want..."

"it's boiling hot, gumi."

"gimme" he did his grabby hands, and you smirked. you held your finger out to him and he licked the steaming hot chocolate off it, flinching at its temperature. toji licked his own lips, envying his son for a solid minute. he could just keep looking at you. your lips, your hair, your eyes, your figure… god, you were beautiful. you were so, so perfect. his heart was beating hard in his chest.

"will you be a good boy and wait for it to cool down a little?"

"yes he will," said toji as he scooter over to stand behind you, hiding you from megumi's view. he had you trapped between him and the kitchen counter. as you sprayed whipped cream on the mugs, toji slid his hand under your skirt and grabbed your ass, giving it a nice squeeze. you jumped a little, startled, and dropped a spoon, his hand grasping at it and grabbing it before it hit the floor. he moved his hands to your legs, to your thighs…

"so clumsy..." his voice reverberated. you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck as his hands started to move up your legs, his lips almost touching your ear.

"you have some nerve..." you said, a shudder running down your spine.

"don't blame me."

"here," you said, handing him a mug.

you managed to escape his towering frame looming over you, and slid a mug of hot chocolate to megumi. he crushed some cookies and sprinkled them over the cream. the three of you circled the kitchen island, sipping hot chocolate and wiping cream moustaches.

"so, what's your plan today? it's christmas eve..."

"he wants to see the giant tree in the a city square. guess i gotta take him there."

"oh yeah! they go all out on the lights. this year i think they're letting people hang their own ornaments on it. it's a huge tree," you said. "come with us," he said. toji never cared much for celebrations, but it meant something to his kid and if there was one lesson he'd learned from the life he'd grown up in, was that every child deserves an innocent and fun childhood. so if it meant taking megumi out to see the sights, buying him candies or toys, or even inviting his favourite person with them, he'd do it.

"i have a delivery coming in tonight, i'll need to supervise it," you replied.

"we'll make it back in time."

"they need to set it up and all, toji..."

"y/n come with us!" megumi chirped, his eyes shining like stars.

you groaned at how cute he could get. "you're gonna be such a heartthrob, gumiiii. fine, i'll come." you ruffled his and kissed his forehead and megumi giggled with glee.

"he's got you wrapped around his finger."

"tell me about it..."

the three of you roamed around the city, looking at the sights. christmas came alive with a twinkle of lights and festive decorations. tall buildings sparkled with fairy lights, casting a warm glow across the streets. storefronts dressed up their windows with scenes of santa, snow, and elves, creating a holiday buzz. wreaths hung on each door, bells and holly tied to them.

eggnog stands popped up on corners and the air carried the scent of spices as people savoured cups of eggnog, dusted with nutmeg. megumi had the appetite of two grown men and drank a whole pint of eggnog, hogged candies, cookies, and caramel popcorn.

"he's gonna wreck havoc tonight..." said toji, picking his kid up before he spotted anything remotely edible.

"and stay knocked out the whole day tomorrow."

"i'd pay to see that," he sighed.

megumi, bundled up in a cozy jacket, marvelled at the storefronts and the twinkling lights. he loved the colours and the glow of the city.

you soon stood in front of the giant christmas tree. it was massive, draped in ribbons, tinsel, lights, and a myriad of ornaments that people brought. some were storebought, some hand-made, some hung small lockets, picture-frames, and some even hung love letters.

toji held megumi on his shoulder and let him hang a little sketch he'd made of a christmas tree.

"it looks so pretty over there, gumi!" you said, admiring it.

"are ya gonna put something on too?"

"yep," you said as you pulled out something from your purse. you stood on your toes and hung an ornament you'd created out of one of your old golden guitar picks.

"huh. nice."

"i have too many picks. thought i'd spare one... do you have anything to hang?"

"uh... sure," said toji, pulling out a vicks inhaler from his pocket.

"bruh..." you burst into laughter, swatting the fuck out of toji's arm as he messily hung the keyring on a branch, next to your pick. you took a picture of megumi with the tree and his sketch. you snuck in a few pictures of toji looking absolutely disinterested in everything. the three of you roamed around some more until you walked by the lake, frozen and decorated with lights. people were skating on the ice. megumi pulled your hand and led you to the lake.

"you wanna skate, gumi?" you asked and he nodded. so you paid for a pair of skates for you and him. before you could ask toji, he backed away and waved his hand at you.

"loser," you quipped and took megumi to the rink. the winter evening cast a gentle glow on the ice. megumi eagerly hopped from foot to foot in his skates, in anticipation.

it took a few tries to get him used to the light footing. it felt like a scissor gliding through thin paper. megumi slipped a few times, but you caught him in time, helping him regain his balance. after momentary tumbles, you hold his hand and skate across the frozen lake. your skates etched swirling patterns on the ground as you glided over the ice.

toji, leaning on the bannister that surrounded the lake, watched you from a distance. his gaze followed your every pirouette, leap, and glide. he could see you encouraging megumi from time to time. seeing you twirling around, throwing your head back laughing, and skating with his kid did nine kinds of things to toji, and they all made his heart swell, and that was his silent applause to you. you skated your way back to where toji stood, and helped megumi off the slipper ice. both your cheeks and noses were pink, and your laughs gushed out with a puff of mist.

"thought you'd fall..."

"you'd have loved to see that..."

megumi got tired of walking, so he sat atop his father shoulders. your taut walk home passed by in minutes, conversations seamlessly shifting between the trivial and the festive. megumi fell asleep on toji's shoulders, so you offered to hold him.

the three of you stood in the elevator; megumi asleep in your arms, his head resting on your shoulder, while your red handbag rested against toji's.

"sugar game was on point today. he's fast asleep."

"thank god... i can't have this brat run around all night."

"do you have to call him a brat?"

"he is..."

you rolled your eyes and stepped out as the elevator dinged and opened. the two of you were met with two delivery men standing in front of your house, alternately looking through the hole in your door.

"oh, right on time." you wade past them and open the door.

toji followed you, not liking the way the delivery men were looking at you, their eyes trailing your legs.

you asked them to come inside and go on with their work. they brought in a large parcel inside and placed it in a corner of the living room. they began unwrapping and taking their tools out, occasionally checking you out. you had megumi in your arms, so you couldn't see that.

toji, however, saw that and more. he knew what those nods and raised eyebrows meant. he wasn't one to be jealous of prawny men like them. but something about the way they looked at you made him feel... possessive about you.

"put megumi in the bed," he said, gently holding your arm, and guiding you inside.

"you okay with him sleeping here?"

"yes."

toji almost hurried you inside your room. you put megumi on the bed and tucked him in your blanket. you switched the lights off, turning around to leave.

toji caught you by your arm and pushed you against your bedroom door. before you could even respond, his lips crashed onto yours. he kissed you fiercely. he heard you whimper and gasp, but he did not stop. he grabbed your waist and pushed you against the door, pushing himself against you, harder. he pulled away for a second, allowing you to breathe. he didn't need any lights to see your swollen lips and dim expression. he tilted his head and kissed your neck, feeling your arms grab his shoulder defensively. toji brought one hand to your throat and wrapped his fist around it. he began sucking at your neck. his hands, and his mouth could feel your gulps and panting heartbeats. the urge to consume you had taken over him as he started biting your soft neck. the whimpers and moans that left your mouth were music to his ears. your hot and heavy breathing and the way your throat felt in his vice-like claw sent him to a boiling point. his teeth dug into your flesh softly. his hold over your throat tightened and your breathless moans only encouraged him to bite harder. he wanted to take you then and there... but he had a statement to make.

he pulled away, much to his reluctance.

"what was that for..." you asked, panting, feeling blood rise in your neck. not that you were complaining.

toji pulled you aside and opened the door to your room. he led the two of you outside. he went straight to your kitchen and downed a glass of water.

you were still coming down from the high he'd put you through. you sauntered into the living room to check on your parcel. pleased to see it put together, you leaned against the wall, watching the delivery men clean up their tools.

they turned around to look at you and the mischievous grins they had earlier faltered away into thin lines of disappointment.

"it's done, ma'am."

"thank you." you were about to reach for your purse on the kitchen island when toji stood beside you, snaking his hand around your waist.

"that looks great, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you almost rocketed through the roof. what the fuck is wrong with him...

the two men awkwardly waited in your living room, hoping you'd give them a holiday season tip or offer them refreshments.

the door to your bedroom opened and megumi stepped out, awoken by your conversations. rubbing his eye, he trudged to his father. toji knelt down in front of him, ruffling his hair.

megumi looked up at you... he asked, "what happened y/n?", pointing to your neck.

you had no idea what he was talking about. all you heard was toji whispering something to megumi.

"you see those men, megs? they hurt y/n... they've been bad boys..." he looked at you and threw a wink.

like a rabid puppy, megumi dashed at the two delivery men, flapping his arms at their legs. stunned and perplexed, they began backing away. megumi bit one guy's calf and he yelped in pain, running away, crashing into his partner. the two scurried out of your house, colliding into the walls.

"gumi! what... why would you do that?" you swatted toji's arm and he draped it across your shoulder.

he brought his lips close to your ear and whispered in a sultry voice, "well, my girl ain't available... someone's gotta teach those boys how to behave..."

megumi came back to you and asked if you were okay.

"yes, you... anklebiter..." you chuckled and assured him you were just... damn... fine.

"what were they here for anyway?"

you held toji's hand and brought him to your living room.

"i swear you act like you're blind sometimes..." you said, pointing to a large mantlepiece piano resting against the living room window.

"i was looking at you..." he shrugged.

megumi, like a curious cat, inspected the piano. he'd only seen grand pianos on tv and in malls. he'd never seen one like that.

"can you play?" he asked.

"sure! why not!" you agreed happily and sat down at the piano. opening the lid that covered it, you turned it on, and checked all the pedals once.

you began playing some chords softly, setting the tune, hoping to transition it to some song. well, it was christmas eve and you felt mildly grateful for the year. you also felt pleasant knowing that toji liked you for real. that he didn't turn out to be a one night-stand or a lesson learned.

slowly, you thought of a song to play. the ivory keys obeyed your fingers as you played chords familiar to most people your age. by habit, you began singing the song you were playing.

you smiled at megumi, who was glued to the side of the piano, looking at you with heart eyes.

as you reached the poignant peak, toji stepped forward, a barely noticeable smirk playing on his lips and bent down. without uttering a word, he began to sing, his voice carrying the lyrics with an unexpected depth and resonance. your eyes widened in astonishment, fingers still pressing the keys.

you had been accustomed to the solace of your music for so long that you were caught unawares by toji harbouring a hidden talent, let alone the fact that he knew the lyrics to the song. his voice croaked at a high note, but as the first few lines escaped his lips, your initial shock gave way to a mixture of disbelief and delight.

"you're my, my, my, my..."

"lover..."

your eyes met like strangers on an opportune day. you gave him a soft, affectionate smile and he gave you his cocky grin.

megumi's claps snapped your from your trance. you ruffled his hair. he asked you if he could play too and you helped him sit on the stool, adjusting it to increase the height. so while megumi played random keys, you stood beside toji, watching him.

"who the fuck introduced you to taylor swift?"

toji clutched his forehead, hiding his face with his hand. he knew this was coming. he could hear your contain your squeal.

"hold it in."

"i can't..."

"please..."

"but-"

"don't make a big deal out of it."

"can i please make a big deal out of it?"

he made the mistake of looking at you. oh, how could he refuse when you were staring at him with innocent doe eyes?

he sighed.

"you like her. so..."

"you listened to taylor swift for me?"

toji just groaned in response, hiding his face again. he felt you throw your arms around his neck. he wasted no time in hugging your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck... the one with a bold hickey he'd marked you with not minutes ago.

"i got you a gift," he whispered in your ear.

"oh?"

toji took something out of his pocket as you pulled away, his arm still around your waist. it was shabbily wrapped in a golden gift paper.

you chuckled and took it, slowly unwrapping it.

"awww, toji, you big old softie..."

you hugged him again, pressing a kiss to his cheek; your arms around his neck, hands holding a brand new doorknob.

(im dying at the way toji says “lover…”)

taglist @amaiyasha @szillx @ruixrei @maddypaddyladdy

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