finger nub

Control pt.1

JUNGKOOK X READER (Y/N)

MATURE CONTENT. SMUT/ANGST

Originally posted by purelyjimin

His hands began trailing up your thighs, making you shudder with every touch. Mercilessly whispering into your ears, each whisper leaving you gasping for air. Your body slowly being overcome with a sensation foreign to you.You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. He notices and lifts your chin up, forcing you to look up and into his lustful eyes.

“Don’t be nervous baby. I promise I’ll be gentle with you” He purred in your ear. The feeling of his warm breath against your skin sent jolts of pleasure up your body, heating up your core whilst his fingers lingered over you nub.

“jungkook~~” You cooed. not being able to form any coherent sentences you were left with nothing but soft involuntary moans falling from your lips. He began moving in closer, close enough for you to be intoxicated by his sweet musky scent. Licking his lips whilst admiring yours, he leaned in and-

*THUD*  

Keep reading

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[[ Request: jealous jax imagine ]] - I’ve already done an imagine where Jax was jealous (click here to read it), so I thought I would make this one a bit different and go for a more protective side of things, just so the writing isn’t so monotonous. Hope you enjoy!

You stood by the bar, waiting on Chucky to bring back the drink you had asked for ten minutes ago. You rolled your eyes, wondering where nub-fingers had wandered off to now. You plopped down in a barstool and glanced around the room. The place was a mess. There were bikers, businessmen, crow eaters, and CaraCara girls scattered everywhere. The club was trying to secure some potential business partners, a bunch of gun-dealing lunatics, and they were throwing a big rager at the clubhouse to impress their potential partners. Clay wanted to have the deal secured before the night was over. Nobody really seemed to care for these businessmen too much - there was something a little off about them - but desperate times called for desperate measures. With the Irish temporarily out of the gun trade, SAMCRO was forced to buy elsewhere. And these guys just happened to be the next best thing. 

Gemma had asked for your help getting everything ready for the party, and as the old lady of the mother charter’s VP, you couldn’t exactly say no. Besides, Gemma was sort of your almost-mother-in-law, a thought that mildly terrified you. So you had half-heartedly agreed to Gemma’s request, and you had been helping her and Chucky stock the bar nearly all day. Now that the party had actually started and the guests of honor had arrived, you were taking a break and getting yourself a much needed, much deserved drink. That is, if Chucky would ever bring it back. 

After another few minutes of waiting, you grew impatient. You walked around the bar, deciding you would get your own drink. You were in the middle of pouring your favorite Scotch whisky into your glass when the sound of a thick Midwestern accent filled your ears. 

You looked up to see a young, fairly attractive man sitting at the bar in front of you. You knew he was a little too young to be one of the men in charge. He didn’t wear a suit like the other men either, and you wondered if he was some sort of security. You couldn’t help but notice the large muscles hidden just underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. 

“Mind making me one of those?” he asked, flashing you a flirtatious smile.

You nodded your head and smiled politely, removing a second glass from the shelf and filling it with whisky, all the while, silently cursing Chucky for deserting the bar and inadvertently leaving you in charge. 

“So, uh,” the man bit his lip suggestively. “After I have that drink,” he cocked his head to the side, “Maybe we could go somewhere a little more private.” 

You slammed the glass down on the bar and let out an annoyed scoff. “I don’t know what kind of idea you’ve got in your head,” you shook your head, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “But I am not one of them,” you stated, pointing in the general direction of Ima and the rest of the CaraCara girls who were currently half-naked and giving lap dances to the rest of the businessmen. 

The man flashed you a confident grin. “That don’t matter much to me, babe.” 

You tightened your jaw, trying to refrain from burying your fist in this arrogant asshole’s face. “Well, how about just a simple ‘no’, then?” you quipped, pushing the glass of whisky towards him just hard enough so some splashed out onto his shirt. “Also, I’m not your babe.” You flashed him a painfully fake smile. “Have a nice night,” you snapped, walking angrily away from the bar.

——————————————————————————————-

You sat at the table outside of the clubhouse, staring at the reaper on the wall in front of you and smoking a cigarette. You had to get out of the clubhouse for a little while. The smell of alcohol, cheap perfume, and even cheaper business suits was beginning to give you a headache, and you needed a break from it all. You took a long, slow drag of your cigarette and sighed. You swore if you had to look at another bare ass or cheap polyester suit, your eyes would roll out of your head. 

You heard a smug laugh behind you. You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. You could smell his shitty cologne from a mile away. 

“We meet again,” the man said, probably thinking to himself that he was clever. But you already knew he had seen you walk out the door and followed you out after a few minutes, just long enough for him to be able to deny following you and insist it had been a coincidence.

You rolled your eyes and took another drag of your cigarette before tossing it to the ground and putting it out with the toe of your boot. You had to give it to him, if nothing else, he was persistent. “And now we say goodbye again,” you retorted, starting to walk back towards the door to the clubhouse. 

The man grabbed you by your arm suddenly, stopping you in your tracks. You felt his fingers dig into your arm, and he stared hard at you. 

You glared back at him, your face now rigid as stone. “Let go of me,” you snarled through gritted teeth, your voice calm and calculated. 

“I just wanna talk, baby,” the man responded, a disgustingly conceited smile spreading across his face. He shrugged and let out a short laugh. “That’s all.” 

You saw Jax walking up to you out of the corner of your eye. As soon as the man saw him, he quickly let your arm go.

“Hey, babe,” Jax said as he approached you. His eyes moved between you and the man standing in front of you. “What’s going on here?” Jax had a mischievous smirk on his face, and you knew that could only mean one thing. He had already seen the man talking to you at the bar earlier, and he didn’t quite like it. But now, seeing this man put his hands on you like that, how uncomfortable you clearly were, and the man’s inability to take no for an answer, Jax had to intervene. And he was going to have a little fun with it.

The man shook his head and flashed Jax a smug smile. “Just havin’ a friendly conversation.” 

“Is that right?” Jax asked, his smirk growing wider. He cocked his head to the side. “’Cause it looked to me like you were harassing my girlfriend here.” 

The man stood straight, realizing he was about to get himself into some trouble over you. He shook his head again, his jaw tightening. “Nah, man. We were just talking.” 

Jax nodded his head and raised his eyebrows, that famous smirk still present on his lips. “Good thing,” he told the guy, who was now clearly growing nervous. “’Cause if you were bothering her,” Jax shrugged nonchalantly and grinned. “I’d have to kill you.” 

The man’s eyes grew wide, much to Jax’s amusement. Jax slapped a hand on the man’s shoulder and let out a sadistic laugh. “And I just cleaned my knife, man.” 

Jax threw his arm protectively around your waist. “Don’t ever mess with another man’s girl, asshole.” He led you back towards the clubhouse, leaving the man standing there with a shocked expression on his face.

——————————————————————————————-

"Bye, Gem!” you called over your shoulder as Jax led you outside. The party was still raging inside, but Jax decided to call it a night. The deal had been closed, and Clay didn’t need him anymore. All Jax wanted to do was go home and get you in bed. “Call me tomorrow, and I’ll help clean up!” you called to Gemma, ignoring Jax as he continued to pull you towards the door.

“Bye, baby,” she told you. “Love you! You too, Jackson!” 

You smiled and turned back to your old man, who was shaking his head at both you and his mother.  

“She never stops talking when you’re around,” he joked, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You shrugged. “Gemma likes me.”

Jax shook his head and let out a laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day that Gemma actually liked someone.” He leaned down, placed a kiss on the top of your head, and threw his arm over your shoulder. He flashed you a wide smile. “But I’m glad it’s you.” 

You were making your way towards Jax’s bike when Jax caught sight of the man from earlier, now sitting behind the wheel of a very expensive, very new car. It was obvious that he was waiting on you to walk outside. Apparently he had made the mistake of thinking you would be alone. The devilish little smirk you loved and knew so well began to form on Jax’s face again, and you already knew what he was thinking. Before you could stop him, he had removed his Ka-Bar from its sheath on his belt and had stabbed it into the front grill of the man’s car. Jax pulled the knife back quickly, a wild and satisfied look in his eyes. Both of you looked up at the man. All he could do was stare, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He didn’t dare move.

Jax put his knife into its sheath and threw his arm back around your shoulders. He turned, once again heading in the direction of his bike. He looked over his shoulder and called back to the man, “Told you not to mess with another man’s girl!” 

@kisshibae

Eto had come in late – she usually did on certain nights, so it was not unexpected, yet this night in particular was odd. By the time she hopped through the open window of the study, it was well past midnight. Downstairs, she could hear the noise of the television and some catchy theme song; Rohan was probably bingewatching another anime again. Perfect.

Coming down the stairs, Eto had shirked off most of her disguise, her hair spilling out all over her small form. 

“Hey, Rohan,” she called to him over the sound of the television.

“Do you think gloves are in style yet?” 

As she asked such a seemingly random question, Eto held up her hands to her face, which were both red and covered in blistering, healing skin that nearly looked like scales; her fingers had not yet even fully reformed, her tiny, red hands only having nubs where fingers ought to be.

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and my Night Vale Girl Scout sash is aaaalmost finished, I’m still working my fingers to nubs trying to stitch up the rank and city and troop insignia patches (puff paint on felt, stitched over real quick with three strands of embroidery floss.  It’s easy, but time-consuming)

Which is to say: costume is good enough for work, and I’ll have the complete ensemble in time for the live show on Monday