#“Baby its nothing new. Since the start it was all planned out and always hard”*clasps hands behind back and looks longingly out at an ocean

[youredreamingofroo]

the way Roo, Leo and Nirvana all have primarily Ricky Montgomery songs as potentials for the on repeat thing rn...

[sombreboy]

Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

[ masterlist ] Serves as an afterstory for our series Mused Obsession, but can be read on its own. 

Written together with @chimoona​ as JM and @sombreboy​ as JK

Synopsis: In celebration of their one year anniversary, Jungkook dresses Jimin up in lingerie & makeup as his picture-perfect doll and ruins him in every way he desires.

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 15.7k ⇢Ch.warnings: Profanity, JM dressing in lingerie and wearing makeup, messy kissing, degrading petnames and dirtytalk, breathplay, bj, praise kink, JK's fetish for crybaby JM remains intact, body worship, foot fetish JK literally slorps JM's petite little foot and it is v erotic join us feet hoes, some biting, mentions of blood(from a sharp stiletto lol dw), ok hold up and stay w me here JK rides JM but he is in no way a bottom, this is some top ridin' stuff to drive Jm mad and let me tell you it works, then JK puts little JM back in his place where he belongs stuffed with dick, rough fucking, in fact its so rough that JM can't hold his pee im not even sorry-- it was hot, idk what else if you've read any of my stuff you should just kinda know what you're up for. xo

The chime of the security alarm strikes the quiet mansion as Jungkook shuts the door behind him, kicking off his shoes in a hurry. He hugs luxury shopping bags close to his chest, trembling with excitement. He'd been holding onto the bags at work to ensure Jimin didn't see them for days, which felt like months—especially today, to finally come home to his favorite person in the entire universe and spend their first official anniversary together.

It's been an entire year since Jimin proved his love and dedication to the photographer, and life couldn't be any better than it is now. They're unstoppable, thriving as the biggest names in the industry. With a lot of fame—a lot more on Jimin's end—comes a lot of work and less time together, except for when they manage to crawl into bed at the end of the day. So, Jeon Jungkook wanted to make tonight extra special. He'd missed having Jimin truly just for himself; not just as a boyfriend, but as a model and his muse.

"Baby, I'm home." Jungkook calls out as he eyes the rooms, listening to where Jimin could be. He knows the model had the day off, so the younger man had given him a little white lie—he wouldn’t be able to make it home early. Yet here he is, giddy like a child and ready to surprise his beloved butterfly.

"Come to me~" He adds cheerfully while walking towards the stairs, searching for Jimin when he hears the small thuds of his lover's light footsteps.

"K-kookie?" Jimin calls from their bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes after a long nap. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Jungkook arrive.

Thinking he had more time to get dressed and ready for their night together, he's caught, fresh from restful sleep, wearing only an oversized t-shirt and tight black briefs. The night was planned to a T...in Jimin's mind. A brand new suit hung in the walk-in closet, designed and tailored specifically for his body. He knows how the young photographer likes to ogle when the fabric of his pants hugs his plump cheeks daringly, almost too tight for a public setting.

But tonight, there will be no public outing. No distractions from the outside world, getting in the way of their time together.

As high-profile as the two men have grown over the last year, they've found it hard to take a leisurely night out on the town without being spotted by a fan of their work or an industry mate trying to cut into their fun. It's been a rollercoaster, but it's been the thrill of their lives. Even then, it's necessary to plan nights of relaxation and indulgence. So, Jimin set out candles and dipped ruby ripe strawberries in milk chocolate, planning a romantic night with just the two of them. He even chilled a bottle of overpriced champagne—a gift from Namjoon, hand-delivered for the happy couple. It was assumed that since Jungkook was working late, the ambiance of a well-kept home and a willing partner was all he wanted anyhow... Until, of course, Jimin glides down the stairs and spots his lover with armfuls of bags. Designer bags.

"Welcome h-ooome," he yawns, still finding his voice, "And happy anniversary, baby." He leans in and stands on his toes, pressing his body into the bags held at Jungkook's chest to give him a sweet kiss. "I missed you a lot...and I cleaned up too, but I guess I fell asleep at some point. I was going to get all pretty for you, so just pretend I'm dressed up right now."

“You’re gorgeous, baby.” Jungkook smiles into the kiss, returning it softly. He pulls back to drink in the fresh state Jimin is in. No makeup, barely dressed... It's like the visionary’s plans were fated to happen. “And this is perfect for what I have planned for you. A clean canvas, so to speak.” The young photographer adds as he hands over the bags to his lover. “Take off everything you’re wearing and put this on, nothing else. And bring the small bag with you to the studio.” He leans in closer to allow the hot breath of every spoken word to fan over Jimin’s cheek, whispering his next words. “I’ll be waiting for you. Okay? Now go.”

Accustomed to following the photographer's orders, Jimin doesn't waste a moment scurrying to the bathroom and peeling off his shirt on the way in. He kicks off his underwear and sits on the closed toilet seat to skim through the first bag's contents. The second he runs his hands over smooth silk ribbons and lace, his heart leaps out of his chest. 

Lingerie. Women's lingerie, he notes internally as his fingers skim the fabric with a timid touch. It feels small in his hand, and he already knows it's not meant to cover much. Jungkook has always been an appreciator of visual art, and in the back of Jimin's mind, he always knew this moment would come. The female form can be voluptuous and sensual—soft to the touch and comforting when held close. 

Without taking the lingerie out to inspect it closely, Jimin knows this look is made to illuminate his feminine traits—to hug the small of his waist and accentuate the curve of his hips, prominently displaying some of his lover's favorite parts with exaggerated flair.

As a former full-time model, Jimin doesn't think twice about indulging this new request from Jungkook. He's been half-naked in front of strangers in very scandalous clothing, it's only right he indulges his partner with the same courtesy, under his exact specifications. 

He sets the smaller bag aside and removes the clothing, gasping at the bright red shade the younger man had chosen. It looks like fresh blood as he tugs it onto his small body—ribbons drip down his legs to capture the matching set of pure red stockings. When he slips them over his legs, they stop at the feet, hugging them tight and showing the delicate curve of his arches.

A slender garter belt cinches high around his waist and rests low on his hips, made of a thin weave of lace that opens up at the belly button to show off the cute dip of his tummy. Not even fully dressed, he feels pretty...desirable. With each new addition, he feels his confidence grow, matching the opulent fit his love has chosen for their special occasion. Jimin grasps the silk ties that dangle off the belt and loop them into the stockings, holding them tight against his body and matching the two pieces as one. He takes his time to billow the ties into eye-catching bows, adding more of a feminine flair to his long slender legs. 

He opens another bag and clasps his hand over his mouth, pulling out an accompanying bralette, so fair and petite. It's soft on his skin. Everything feels so soft and erotic, like it was crafted to draw moans from his mouth before he's even touched by warm hands. The gentle graze of the lace over his nipples makes him bite his lower lip to push back building arousal. When he crosses his legs to finish clasping the bralette behind his back, he feels the rub of new lace against his cock, only drawing his attention to the fact that women's underwear does not provide enough room to hold him fully. If he gets harder, which he's certain he will, it will be impossible not to poke out and dribble over the rouge fabric.

Once Jimin empties the bags and slips every bit of clothing onto his body, he steps back to admire the full look. Even in the dim bathroom mirror, he finds every little bit of his form jaw-dropping as it's prettily wrapped in red. But no look is complete without a matching set of kitten heels, which he slips onto his red silken feet. He immediately notices how the added height accentuates his plump cheeks, out in the open, skimmed down the center with a cheeky thong.

"Woah..." The model takes a few strides across the bathroom floor to get a feel for the new footwear. A few clumsy trips over the tile to get started, but after a couple minutes, his confidence is through the roof. He can stride effortlessly and sway his hips in a subtle yet seductive manner.

"O-okay." He psyches himself up, licking his thick lips in a quick swipe while he drinks in a final look of his fit. He grabs the smallest bag, still unopened, and exits the bathroom to find Jungkook waiting for him in his personal studio.

Meanwhile, Jungkook just finished setting up the finishing touches to his studio and waited for the most important centerpiece of the night. His favorite camera sits on a tripod next to his large armchair, which is to be his spot to admire his creation. He presses record before he forgets to, and knowing how he will soon see his lover in the new lingerie, there'd be no time to think about whether or not the camera captures it all. What he didn't expect, however, was to find the fresh chocolate dipped strawberries, paired with a bottle of champagne. He immediately noted that this wasn't something he had in his own collection, so he figured this was Jimin's preparation for the night.

"So sweet to me, always.." Jungkook sighs dreamily when placing the strawberries and the bottle on the small table next to his chair as he takes his seat. His lover always finds little ways to show his affection; always considerate of Jungkook in everything he does. It's cute, and even if the elder man's plans might not be what he initially thought, Kook is sure that this will surpass anything he had in mind.

"He should be here soon..." He leans back in his seat, still wearing the suit he'd worn all day at work. His strong, tattooed fingers wrap around his tie and tug at it to loosen the fabric a bit. He rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt after discarding the suit jacket to let it be thrown on the floor behind the chair. His breathing slows down when he listens intently for the powerful sound of heels coming from the bedroom, echoing in the hallway. Although he knows what to expect, he still doesn't know just how it would look-- how his Jimin would pull off the look. The thick swallow in anticipation causes his adam's apple to bob, already excited as his heart beats harder in his chest.

Jimin bottles his nerves and clicks his heels with slow steps, echoing deliberately on the hard floor until he reaches the studio doorway.

"Don't laugh, okay?" He smirks at his own words, still hidden around the corner of the doorframe, knowing there's no way on earth Jungkook could find this fit humorous. "I'm coming in..."

One step forward, and he's basked in the low light of the photographer's setup. He swallows hard at the first sight of Jungkook, even when he's dressed the same as when he left him. The loosened tie captures his attention, and he swallows again at the thought of holding it while he glides his silken legs over his lover's lap to ride him roughly. The anticipation of what Jungkook has in store for Jimin is overwhelming.

Jimin gives the photographer a moment to gather himself before he walks forward, placing one heel in front of the other and sashaying his hips with each step. The camera blinks red to indicate it's recording, and Jimin doesn't let it distract his attention for a second. He moves in a slow weave, looking up at his partner under a tempting hooded gaze--long eyelashes beckoning him closer. When he reaches the center of the studio, he stops for further instruction, standing with confidence and poise. 

"You chose well, baby. I love it." He gives a slow twirl, pivoting on his slim heel to show off the back, pausing to give the younger man a good look. "...do you like it?"

“I really like it.. I knew you’d look perfect in this.” Jungkook drinks in the entirety of his lover, his heavy gaze not leaving a single inch of the model's body unseen. The lingerie is perfect, covering just enough—but doesn’t hide anything. His hungry eyes travel down the blonde model’s back; from his slender back to his plump ass, not to mention how the posture from the heels make it stand out even more. “Did you bring the small bag?” He asks, beckoning Jimin to come closer with a wave of his hand, itching to feel his delicate body beneath his fingertips.

Jimin nods yes, stepping towards his lover. "I didn't peek, I was good." He says it in an innocent tone, as if he doesn't look like a goddamn succubus in fuck-me heels. A brilliant red strap of his bralette slips down his shoulder, which he takes his time slipping back into place. Even if he feels a bit out of place in this new look, he pulls it off with grace and seduction.

Jimin hands the bag to Jungkook. "I'm sure whatever it is, it'll make this moment even better." He kneels at the photographer's feet in a natural subservient position, resting his elbows on the man's thighs and peering up at him for further instruction.

"Yes." Jungkook says softly while taking the bag in his hands, giving Jimin an approving smile. While his face remains unbothered, the strain of his half erect cock proves that he's anything but. The visuals of the elder in such sinful fabrics drives him crazy, and eager to ruin them in every way he pleases. "You're such a good boy to me. Always trusting me with your everything."

Jungkook digs into the bag, pulling out a small, high end lipstick. He puts the bag to the side, grabbing Jimin's chin with his free hand while popping the lid off the lipstick with his thumb, leaning forward in his seat to get a proper look of his lover's bare face. 

"Pout." He instructs, twirling the little stick to slide the blood red lipstick from hiding, bringing it close to Jimin's plump lips. When the blonde does as told, he gently swipes the crimson color onto the delicate skin of Jimin's lower lip. His cock throbs at how effortlessly it stains his pretty mouth, and he keeps adding more; layer after layer until he's satisfied with the deep, bloody red adorning one of many favorite features of his man. 

"You look like a doll already, so pretty.." Jungkook sighs, a mixture of his adoration and sexual frustration building at the sight. But he's patient, and leans back a bit to inspect his work, moving his hold on the smaller man's jaw to rub his thumb over Jimin's lips, staining the pad of his finger in the process.

A moan presses passed Jimin’s pursed pout. All he’s ever wanted since he met the mysterious man is to be everything for him—there, at his feet, living to serve his deepest desires. To give a taste of his commitment to the role, he swipes his pierced tongue over the finger in a slow motion.

“I can see how hard you’re getting, Kookie...” He takes the thumb between his stained lips and circles his tongue around it, releasing with a light pop. “...seeing me like this, dressed in the underwear you chose...” He peers down at the slick thumb and admires the prominent stain—a perfect shade to match the rest of his ensemble. “...bet you’d love to admire every inch of your creation.” Jimin circles his tongue around the digit once more and pulls it into his mouth, humming his pleasure into the photographer’s skin. He brings a hand up to palm his lover’s stiffening length through unbuttoned pants.

"Mm, you know exactly what I like." Jungkook purrs, glancing down for a moment to watch Jimin's delicate hand touch his hard length, now prominent through the fabrics keeping it hidden. His gaze travels back to the model's face. Seeing Jimin's doe eyes look up at him with such submission, admiration... love. It drives the photographer mad with desire.

"There's so much I wanna do to you." He breathes out, his sentence ending with a quiet moan as he bucks up into Jimin's small palm. When his lust takes over, slowly and steadily, his impulses grow more reckless. "Or make you do, for me.." He adds before swiping his thumb over the lipstick once more, dragging the pad of his digit further past the corner of the model's mouth. A stripe smeared in red adorns Jimin's cheek like a small chelsea smile-effect. Jungkook's hand moves back down to wrap behind Jimin's neck, covering his nape with the warmth of his palm as he leans forward to draw his lover in for a messy kiss, aiding in the destruction of the pretty lipstick he'd just applied. 

A red mess is created between the two, their lips coated with splashes of the color and the taste of chemicals mixing with their saliva. But Kook doesn't care—instead, he enjoys every second of it, forcing his tongue between Jimin's parted lips to claim his mouth.

"Look at you..." Jungkook murmurs when he pulls back, the thick string of saliva connecting their tongues breaking off when he speaks, watching it fall to stick to Jimin's chin. "Your makeup got ruined, what a shame.." The faux concern in his tone is evident in contrast to the pleased fire in his eyes. He takes the lipstick, grabbing the blonde's jaw a bit harder this time to reapply, not bothering to wipe off the already smeared makeup around the lips. "Baby... Take my dick out while I fix this, I'm aching."

Jimin pants, left breathless from the younger man's kiss. "Mm--ah...okay." His hand resumes gentle strokes over the clothed length, just feeling for a moment while he distracts his mind from his own growing erection. The press of his pink swollen cock head tests the integrity of the lace, making it bulge out noticeably. When his hand slips into Jungkook's pants to pet him bare, he can't bite back the whimpers of need that brush his partner's fingers.

"Y-you really are aching." Jimin's mouth salivates, murmuring the words to avoid messing up Jungkook's artwork. "Fuck...so big, baby." The blonde model uses one hand to tug down his lover's pants and underwear while the other maintains a languid pace over his silken skin. He takes a pause to bring his messy lips close, wetting Jungkook's shaft with an audible spit that dribbles down his chin. He's never been perfect at following instructions when arousal fogs his mind. At this moment, he needs to hear the slick sounds of cock in his hand. He needs to feel the warmth of blood pulsating under his touch, stiffening and dripping for more. 

"May I taste you, sir?" He reverts back to his role, asking sweetly, nipping the bottom lip and smudging the lipstick even more. "Please."

“How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?” Jungkook looks at his creation, already seeing the blonde mess up the lipstick with his spit and nipping of his lips. It both pleased him and annoyed him, but the heavy arousal weighing on him clouds his judgement and makes him more forgiving towards Jimin’s light disobedience. It’s to be expected, and seeing his lips messy and smeared with red while sucking his cock is all the photographer could think of, for now. “If that’s what my baby wants,” he sighs, reaching out to smudge the other end of the corner of the model's mouth, finishing the joker-like smile on his cheeks. 

Kook leans back in his seat again, moving his hands to rest on his thighs. Kook’s gaze is focused on Jimin, drinking in every feature, observing every little movement. He zeroes in on his messy lips, and feels a moan scratching at the back of his throat at the sight. He can’t wait to see his lover turn into a broken mess, one step at a time. 

“Suck it deeply.. take all of it. No teasing.”

To test the waters, Jimin gives a light swipe along the bottom of Jungkook's shaft, drawing his pink muscle up to the tip and swirling it around the leaking slit in tight circles. 

"Mm, uhm—ahh..." Jimin becomes vocal, humming around the thick length as he pops it in and out of his plump lips, watching it twitch with delight each time he strips Jungkook of his building pleasure. Jungkook said not to tease, but the pretty little blonde craves to feel each shudder of arousal. Each touch from him is live-wired to the younger man, and Jimin feels powerful by causing it to happen. Plus, as an added perk, he knows the slow and drawn-out pace will cause more trouble for him in the long-run. And...what's life without a little pain? He anticipates it. He knows, as nicely as he's dressed, his partner can easily turn him into a crying mess without any regard for the flashy fine clothing. No amount of silk and lace can conceal his inner need to be lovingly destroyed. 

With a lasting swipe of his hot tongue across the ridge of Jungkook's tip, Jimin pops it into between his rouge lips, already smearing a bit of the lipstick over the smooth skin. He bobs his head to wet the throbbing cock, spilling his saliva down the length of it with little to no regard for the mess it creates. He knows, better than anyone, the messier he is, the better.

"Ah, mmh—I told you, no teasing..." Jungkook huffs with furrowed brows, focused on how well Jimin takes his girthy length all the way, dragging his tongue against the smooth skin, watching himself get covered in saliva and faint marks of the lipstick.

"Always making it difficult for me, looking so sweet and innocent..." Jungkook licks his lips at the sight of the elder's messy mouth, makeup smearing past his lips and drooling down his chin onto his length. He's sucked the photographer's cock countless times, so he knows exactly how to do it, and his gag reflex had become close to nonexistent. But, that doesn't mean it's not there, one just has to use a bit of force. "But you're anything but innocent, aren't you? Sucking me off like a cockhungry whore." The photographer bites back a moan, unable to keep his hands off of Jimin for too long before he's already weaving his fingers through his lover's blonde curls to get a good grip. He's gentle at first, just feeling the motion of Jimin's head bob up and down his length, wet sounds and whiny, muffled moans filling the room as no other sound is audible inside the isolated space.

"So be it. If you want my cock that badly, then keep sucking." Jungkook tugs at Jimin's hair, forcing his head to move harder and faster. His generous length makes space in the model's delicate throat, forcing the continuous pool of drool to seep from Jimin's mouth to add to the mess, not allowing him to get off to breathe except from his nose.

Jimin crosses his ankles and rests his bare butt on top of the heels. They clack together as he bends forward and bobs his head steadily, opening up his throat to feel Jungkook's wet tip guide the way. Inch by fleshy inch, his lover's cock fills the space within him. It causes his own cock to peek out of the slim red lace and poke Jimin's abdomen as he bends deep. The blonde swallows around Jungkook's fat cock and holds still, warming it as deep as he can possibly bear, forcing himself to wait until he feels lightheaded.

When his lungs burn for breath, he withdraws slowly, tonguing the prominent veins that bulge along his lover's shaft. "Mmf...g-ah—ack!" He chokes on the last couple inches and holds his small palms in the inner curve of Jungkook's thighs for balance. "...Mine. All mine...tastes so yummy," he emphasizes, swiping a bead of precum directly from the leaking slit. Lost in his own little world, feeling pretty yet needy for friction, he wraps a hand around the shaft and strokes it up and down quickly.

" I-I'm your whore, sir." He looks the part—plump lips and cheeks stained with red, stringing long strands of his spit to the younger's twitching head. To the outside world, he's nothing but the most well-kept, straight-laced individual. Here? He lets go entirely, making his body available for use without a care of how someone else perceives him. The only opinion that matters is the man before him. 

Jimin looks down and notices a strap of his bralette had fallen down, only matching his role of sultry temptress...quickly morphing to messy slut. He purposefully lets the other strap fall, looking up at Jungkook with beckoning lashes. 

"Am I doing well?"

"Mm.. Could do better." Jungkook lies, towering over Jimin's small frame on the floor. His long, raven curls fall forward, framing his sharp features. Being in this position, seeing everything from above, makes him feel so utterly powerful. And Jimin's big, glossy eyes meeting his own only adds to the fire that awakens every single hormone in his body.

In reality, Jimin is doing well. In fact, he's doing an amazing job at driving the photographer mad. His cock twitches delightfully in the model's hands, his abdomen tightening in excitement and heart fluttering beneath his heaving ribcage.

"A job well done isn't without your pretty tears, baby." Jungkook says softly, taking deep breaths to keep his voice from wavering too much in pleasure. He strokes his fingers through his lover's bright, silky curls, coaxing him to take him back into his mouth. "Choke on it, but don't make me cum... Just enough to make your eyes sparkle for me."

Jimin chokes on nothing but a quick gasp. "O-of course." He shrinks under Jungkook's commanding gaze and rubs his thighs together, wishing he had permission to adjust his now fully erect cock. To solidify his subservience, on top of his now glassy eyes, he takes another step and clasps his hands behind his back. No ties or cuffs are necessary, although he'd enjoy being bound tight and abused for being a tease—it was the plan all along.

"I love you," he whispers, swallowing down a fresh wave of emotion and looking up to let Jungkook admire the first tear roll down his cheek. The wet droplet catches the makeup and slips off his chin to seep into his bright red lingerie. Jimin holds eye contact and sticks out his tongue, showing off the pretty piece of jewelry at the center, right where Jungkook placed it nearly a year ago. He gives a couple testing kitten licks, then hovers his pout over the tip, plunging the full length down his throat without a testing suck. No more teasing, he tells himself, gagging around the fat cock. 

Just as Jungkook demanded, Jimin strips himself of breath until he's crying for relief. Hands still clasped tight and out of the way, he's given himself no way of escape, showing his true resilience and commitment to the task he's given.

“Oh, my Jimin..” Jungkook sighs in pleasure, watching how his hefty length disappears into the welcoming warmth of his lover's throat. The flesh contracts around him when the model gags, squeezing tightly to draw more low moans and grunts from the photographer. “You’re doing so well now.” He praises, brushing his thumb beneath Jimin’s eye to catch a few tears. He’s convinced that although there’s a million types of makeup to make one look perfect, Jimin looks his prettiest when his skin is glowing from the shine of his tears. The way his submissive stare from below is sparkling like little stars, just for Jeon Jungkook. The way Jimin will endure anything to please.

“Nobody is prettier than you.” Jungkook bites his lower lip at the sight below, and grows impatient. He keeps a tight grip on his lover's hair, cock deeply buried in his throat while he stands up from his seat. “Nobody could ever compare to you, butterfly.” He hisses, feeling the heat of his words creep onto his cheeks while meeting the elders glossy eyes. He withdraws his hips slowly, only to thrust forward and lodge the head of his jeweled cock as deep as possible. He sighs, lip quivering at his lover's compliance. It’s too exciting, his body is practically shaking with itching, aggressive longing to destroy Jimin further. Patience, he reminds himself. It is their special night, so he wants to ensure Jimin feels like the most desired human in the universe.

The warming praise gives Jimin the courage he needs to slide his lips up the rigid length, gliding his wet ribbed tongue in gentle sweeps. His throat burns from the intrusion, yet, it's a familiar sensation and it does very little to detract him from bobbing his head and building up the photographer until he's at his brink. Slick, slobbery sucks and the occasional gag and gasp for breath becomes the playlist of their evening. Even the model becomes affected by his own desperate sounds. He wiggles his plump butt in a subtle motion to take his attention off the desire pulsing in his veins. He sucks and tongues, staring up at Jungkook until his vision blurs with a wave of new tears. Jimin rests back on his heels to catch his breath, letting the throbbing cock flop out of his mouth and into his hand, holding it firm and continuing to bring his lover close to the edge without immediate relief.

"Fuck me." The second the words leave his swollen lipstick-smeared lips is the moment he cracks, just a little. Hot tears fall down Jimin's cheeks--hand stroking the soaked length until he's trembling to be touched. "I n-need you, Kookie."

Within what seems like a split second, Jungkook dropped to his knees on the floor in front of Jimin; framing his small face in his large palms to draw him in for a messy kiss. He can taste everything-- the mixture of lipstick and saliva, sullied with the taste of his own cock lingering on the model's tongue. But the highlight of it all is the salty topping of Jimin's tears, a clear result of his effort and submission that he worked himself so hard that his body rejected it-- and yet endured to fulfill the photographer's desires.

"Haah, you need me?" Jungkook chuckles when he pulls back from the heated kiss, lingering close to softly press his lips over Jimin's damp cheeks. His own are stained with a faint red, transferred from the elder's pillowy ones.

"Sure you're not tired of this cock?" He smiles as he continues to kiss away Jimin's tears, tongue poking out to lick his cheek as his hot breath fans his face. While he does so, his hands let go of Jimin's face to smooth down his slender form, snaking behind his back until they settle on his ass, mercilessly squeezing the flesh between his fingers. "After you got a taste of Joonie, maybe I won't be enough?" Jungkook's wolfish smile doesn't falter, knowing this will tug at his lover's heartstrings. His kisses travel south, leaving red sucks and bites to blossom on the model's fair skin in it's path down to find a spot by his collarbone where he sucks harshly, certain that it'll leave a possessive mark behind.

"Joonie?" The tears on Jimin's cheeks glisten under the studio lights. His quivering bottom lip juts out in a pout as he naturally leans into the breath of Jungkook's suckles. The hot, tongued, needy markings become painful. Jimin huffs out a low moan. "Hyung was big...but he doesn't taste like you...fuck--" He takes Jungkook's face between his hands and returns the kiss, mashing their lips together messily, parting his mouth and giving him a longing taste of what he desires most. The model draws back slowly, making sure thin strands of their combined saliva string between their tongues, obvious for his lover to admire.

"You're more than enough..." Jimin whispers, letting a hand drop back to Jungkook's swollen cock, still dripping wet with his spit and precum. "I only beg for you, baby. I only want you...playing with me...fucking me...using me until I c-cry." He scoots forward and lets the length drop from his hand, then lifts his knees to straddle the photographer's lap on the floor. While the move may be a little too desperate, he doesn't have a single shred of care in his small body. He aches to feel his love's large hands tug at the lingerie, to feel the way his dripping cock strains against the material, and how it hugs his tense thighs. More than anything, he wants to rock his plump cheeks over Jungkook's shaft, until he's shaking to rip off every bit of red satin and lace from his skin. Jimin pleas in a cracked voice. "Will you make me cry, Kookie?"

"How can you say it so sweetly, as if you aren't crying already..." Jungkook admires the disheveled man before him, lips swollen and messy with smeared makeup. The loose bands of the bralette hang down Jimin's small biceps, adding to the vision in the photographer's mind. "You know how I love it when you beg like this." The younger's strained voice breaks into a low, needy growl when aggression fuels his sadistic desires to go further. Jimin knows this is just one of his ways to show his affection, this is how he's always been, and will continue to always be. Jungkook's greedy hands knead at the flesh of Jimin's ass, nails scraping the fabrics of the lingerie, tugging so harshly that it struggles to not break in his grasp. He spreads the model's ass, keeping the lingerie in the way of his tight entrance as his rigid length rubs against it.

"I don't want you to cry..." Jungkook presses Jimin's ass down, rubbing his cock between the soft cheeks of the model's ass. He looks at his face, never wavering the intense eye contact he initiates while one hand withdraws from it's hold to scavenge the floor next to him, grabbing the opened lipstick. He leans forward, one arm snaking around Jimin's small waist to keep him in place, thick length snugly pressed beneath the blonde's weight while the other hand resumes to add another layer of lipstick, fixing the mess without cleaning up what's been smeared. "I want you to scream so loud that you cannot make a single sound," He smiles, pressing the lipstick harder against his lips, adding a second layer, watching the product crumble a little. "I want you to choke on your own cries, because you can't think of anything else but me."

One last swipe, and Jungkook moves on to draw a little heart in the middle of Jimin's chest, filling it in meticulously. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek in focus, before he finishes and looks back up at the elder. "Now..." He sighs, feeling the painful aching when his cock throbs against the damp lingerie separating himself from being inside of Jimin. He nudges his chin in the direction behind him towards the armchair. "Get up."

The soft pink curve of Jungkook’s lips tempts Jimin to lean in and sully his fair skin with the clumpy lipstick. But he refrains, because he trusts the vision of his photographer—always. He looks like sin—dressed as an upscale whore, made a hot mess by the various layers of makeup applied between spit-slicked kisses and mouth fucking. He would have never chosen this look for himself, and that’s part of the thrill. It’s fresh and exciting, knowing only he can fulfill this erotic vision; being the only muse fit for the occasion, or any other.

“Yes, sir.” Jimin stands to his feet, a little wobbly as he adjusts to the height of the heels. The chair feels miles away the farther the small model steps away from his partner. Yet, the mystery of what could come next makes his heart thunder in his chest. He rubs his lips together to smooth the luxe lipstick, rubbing beyond his natural lines to make his pillowy plush pout look even fuller. Jimin sits on the chair, prim and proper with his legs crossed, pointing the tip of a slim heel in Jungkook’s direction.

“How would you like me?” He asks innocently in a sweet tone, as if he isn’t dressed in women’s lingerie, practically dripping with precum, hard cock straining against the lace.

“Like that, just like that...'' Jungkook stares up from his position on the floor, crawling forward on all fours like a predator slowly approaching it's prey. A new spark of various emotions swirl in his gaze, ranging from admiration and affection-- drowning in the crazed hunger that seeps through his blown out pupils. Having the Park Jimin looking like a hot mess made his cock stir painfully as he tucked himself back in his underwear, leaving the pants undone. It wasn't his turn yet, and as they both know-- the reward of patience will be immensely satisfying.

"Can you imagine if anybody else saw you like this? Every media source would explode, the internet would be on fire." Jungkook sighs dreamily from the mere thought of it. What makes it so good, is the fact that he remains the only person... Well, out of two, in the world to see the famous model and designer turn into a submissive plaything. "You'd lose everything... And for what? To please me?" Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling in a mocking manner as if it's unbelievable that Jimin would go such daring lengths of risking everything, time and time again, just to keep Jeon Jungkook happy.

Just to be his whore.

"And that is why I love you... You know exactly how I like you." The photographer says softly. His gaze drinks up the view above him, from Jimin's messy pout, down his clammy, heaving chest, to his crossed thighs hiding the pretty little cock that is most definitely screaming for relief.

"A needy whore. A compliant whore." Jungkook murmurs to himself when his gaze finds the heel pointing at him. His hands greedily reach out to grab Jimin's delicate ankle, kissing and biting at the stockings covering his soft skin. His free hand grabs the shoe, slowly sliding it off to place it on the floor with unexpected care. He looks up at the blonde again, his dark stare softening at the small gasps continuously pushing past Jimin's swollen lips. Kook kisses travel further down, his own breaths becoming heavy and shaky at how feminine Jimin's small foot looks, covered with the see through fabrics, holding it in his hand like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen.

"A doll." He smiles, closing his eyes when he indulges, flattening his tongue to lick a long, slow, stripe from Jimin's heel to his toe.

“S-shit...” The wet pink muscle tickles Jimin’s sensitive arch, but the pressure of it makes it more enjoyable than he anticipated. Every square inch of his body has been worshipped, marked, pleasured, pained, and all the rest of it—every sensation imaginable, Jungkook has inflicted it with purpose. Even as he pleases his own carnal impulses, he dangles new kinks in the model’s face, tempting him to grasp them tight.

“What are you—“ He knew the second he slipped on those tantalizing stilettos that there was a greater plan in store. The dagger-sharp, pointed heels could easily be used as weapons. After a year with Jungkook, he’s learned how much weaponry and danger makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Jimin moans delicately.

“Do you like my feet, puppy?” The glide of Jungkook’s tongue can be felt through the sheer fabric, seeping the moisture of his spit down to the skin. “Want to taste more?” Sitting on his makeshift throne makes him feel power and strength. He’s well aware that in a heartbeat he can be rag-dolled in any position the younger man desires, but he’s placed in a position of command with his partner at his feet. So he lifts his other foot off the floor and places the sharp point of his shoe onto Jungkook’s thigh, digging it into the muscle just a bit. “Tear the stockings, please.” Jimin’s voice shakes. “R-ruin them. Take it off, with your teeth.”

Jungkook's grasp around Jimin's ankle tightens when he feels the pointy heel dig into his thigh, drawing a low moan from deep within his chest. He gazes up at Jimin through his dark lashes, crooking an eyebrow.

"What was that?" his wicked smile is hiding behind Jimin's foot, which he kisses the sole of between his words. "I thought I heard the doll speak, I must be mad..." Jungkook purposely put Jimin in this position, knowing exactly how it'd make him feel to see the photographer on his knees. The bratty side to the model always knew how to spur-- or in this case, literally step on his nerves to get what he wants. It all serves to the buildup of a bigger purpose; the more riled up Jungkook becomes, the harder Jimin gets fucked. And he knows it too well. Just how long it'll take before he gets what he wants, is the big question.

He looks up at his hot mess of a lover again, saying nothing as he silently obeys his wish when he bites down on the fabrics, carelessly dragging his teeth against the fair skin as he does so. He pulls back, ripping the expensive material off like a kid that's too excited on Christmas to care about whether the wrapping paper is torn to shreds. He nips at the broken fabrics, slowly sliding it off from his lower leg and down to slip it off his foot, audibly spitting it out from his mouth to lunge back in. His hands withdraw to settle on the other leg, still covered and dressed with the heel that so deliciously stings into his muscular thigh. He strokes it gently, so carefully it must tickle more than anything, while wrapping his plush, lipstick stained lips around Jimin's toe, sucking and tonguing it shamelessly with low hums in satisfaction and hot breaths through his nose.

It is overwhelming to even think about the erotic visuals he's capturing on camera, so much that his cheeks flush with heat, and his thick bulge twitches with every little stroke of his tongue that snakes around and in-between the model's petite toes.

"Gah--fucking...shit--ah!" Jimin chokes on a whine as his first digit slips into Jungkook's hot mouth. Each delicate nerve ending sparks to life and ripples tingly pleasurable goosebumps up his legs. He clamps his thighs shut and adjusts the heel, scraping into the fabric of his pants, testing the limit of Jungkook's flesh. Mind over matter, the small male wriggles his butt in his seat, internally battling the conflicting tickly sensations vs his overbearing arousal. With just a single toe suckled between his favorite pair of messy lips, his mind numbs and his limbs tense to claw for leverage. Feeling this, and seeing it happen--admiring the way Jungkook's long lashes close gently as he indulges in the moment. Jimin grips the chair arms in both hands and tears his sharp nails into the upholstery. Jimin mewls, straining to keep quiet, allowing his partner to focus on his indulgence.

“Mm--ah, ah, god..." He closes his eyes and simply feels the movement of the wet muscle, licking between his toes, around them, sucking them into his mouth, until they're glistening in his saliva. "M-more--more..." he whispers, slapping a hand over his begging lips. He broke the stocking, slid it off of him with his teeth without any regard to the price or quality of the fabric. No moment of hesitation to argue against the command or counter with something more enjoyable for both of them. Spoiled, is the word Jimin thinks of...he's pampered in this position, given exactly what he needs, like a prized porcelain doll.

"M-mooore," he whines from behind his hand, biting hard into the soft skin between his pointer finger and thumb, muffling the garbled sounds and using pressure to distract. His eyes seek the recording camera before letting a tear slide down his ruddy cheek, swiping his small tongue over his rouge pout and swallowing hard. "Baby, f-feels--mmf...so good. Looks so pretty..."

With a wet pop, Jungkook withdraws his lips from Jimin's cleaned up toes. His eyes open slowly as he does so, looking up at the overwhelmed man above, shaking with his arousal and inner battle to stay still and receiving the reward. Who the reward is for remains a mystery.

"So greedy... Didn't know you loved having your filthy toes sucked so much." He hums, glancing down at the wet patch of precum staining his underwear, a clear result of just how much he enjoys it as well. "What else do you want?"

Jungkook doesn't look at Jimin while asking, but keeps his attention on the slender legs in front of him. He grabs the model's ankle, uncrossing his legs to spread them wide, scuffing closer between to where he can access and lean his cheek against Jimin's inner thigh, so close but so far away from the aching, pretty cock that's barely covered by the soft lace.

"You're really digging that heel into my leg, baby... Ouch..." He sighs, feeling his length throb with every movement that twists the heel into his flesh. He purposely chose sharp heels, feeling his mixture of bad temper, impatience and lust fill him with every hot breath pushing past his lips. He snakes a hand down between his legs, slipping past the waistband of his boxers to squeeze his cock tightly, staring up at Jimin with doe puppy eyes, rubbing his cheek against the clammy skin of the blonde's thigh. "It hurts, hmm.. Ah.." He closes his eyes again, kissing the skin softly, seemingly gentle-- until his lips curl into a small smile, parting his teeth only to bite down on Jimin's flesh, leaving a possessive mark behind.

Jimin's nails tear away from the upholstery and grasp Jungkook by the roots.

"Sss--ow, fuuck." The fresh mark lays very close to the tattoo on his thigh, still brilliantly colorful with dark shading, like he got it weeks prior. A bruise begins to bloom between the embedded dips where Jungkook's teeth sunk in. It's hot and tender and ignites the rest of his skin to an even coat of blush. Without noticing, Jimin drags his heel down gradually, brought to attention when it clacks onto the floor in front of Jungkook's knelt frame...Tempting…

"Oh, baby. It hurts, huh?" Jimin coos as his fingers naturally soothe the sensitive skin of his lover's scalp. He notices a new hole in Jungkook's pants where his heel punctured through, straight down to the skin. On the fine tip of the heel is a subtle patch of blood where he scraped a little too roughly. "Poor puppy..."

It's a rare occasion to have the photographer in such a submissive state, but he seems to enjoy it more and more once Jimin inflicts a little pain. So that's exactly what the model does, to give back the pleasure and revel in the pristine imagery of his lover on bent knees to please. "Lick it," Jimin says in a quiet voice, bringing his heel to his partner's lips. He clears his throat and states it again, louder and with confidence, wrapping his other leg over Jungkook's shoulder and pulling him closer to the sharp point. "Just like you did my toes, clean this pretty heel."

"Mm? That's what you want..." Jungkook squeezes his cock tighter, blocking the blood flow until he feels his pulse thunder through the swollen tip. He tilts his head to the side slightly, giving Jimin a good view of the way he leans in and opens his mouth wide. His tongue snakes around the sharp heel, scooping up the droplet of his own blood to coat his wet muscle in a thin layer of red. His raised eyebrows serve as a silent question of whether or not he is doing it right... And by the way Jimin's big eyes are quivering as they meet his own, he's more than certain of the answer.

Jungkook hums lowly, a deep moan caught in his throat when he tugs the waistband down to set his cock free from hiding once more, openly massaging his slick length to the way he keeps licking the heel, from the sharpness to the sole, a flattened tongue dragging up like a dog lapping up their favorite meal.

"That's g-good...so good." Any mortal man would go cross eyed from the sinful sight. Jimin is made tougher than most, strong from being with Jungkook, but he's easily bent and broken from the simplest sights. Anything from the younger man melts the model's mind to horny mush--trying on a new pair of Versace shades, or hitting a high score on Overwatch, or sloppily sipping a bananamilk until the container runs dry. This visual, however...is quite complex. The blonde sweats lightly, swallowing tight and combing his fingers through Jungkook's shaggy raven locks, getting lost in the action. He isn't even directly touched, and yet, he feels electric shock waves of pleasure from simply watching Jungkook thumb over his dripping cock head and lap the razor sharp edge of his stiletto.

"Keep touching yourself," he whimpers, gaze hungrily following the younger man's slippery pink tongue slide over the last unsullied strip of heel. "A-and...gah...don't cum." Jimin wrenches his eyes shut and moves his other hand down to touch himself too. His hand grips his needy length tight through the sheer fabric and he bucks upward to chase the friction. In the process, he jolts the heel between his love's lips and gives the plump bottom pout a swift cut. "Shit, puppy, I-I'm..."

Jungkook grunts, flinching slightly from the unexpected. He looks down, seeing as blood drips from his lip to the floor into a growing puddle, deep enough to give a burning sensation in his delicate skin. Deep enough to fuel his various emotions..

"You got too greedy." He mumbles, not bothering to wipe it off as it creates a red string of liquid running down his chin when he looks up at Jimin. His doe eyes fade into the familiar dark stare that the model knows too well. Jungkook could only hold his faux submission for so long, his generosity for the night of giving Jimin the sense of power running out quickly.

"But you just can't control yourself, can you?" Jungkook gets up on his feet, placing his hands on the armrests while towering close over Jimin, face inches away from the mess of a man. "What am I gonna do with such a slut... Getting so excited you can't even sit still in a fuckin' chair." He hisses, swiping up the blood on his lip with his tongue, mixing it with his spit. He grabs Jimin's jaw tightly, forcing his mouth open, tilting his little head back while he hovers over him. "Guess you'll just have to reap what you sow, little whore." He murmurs against Jimin's lips before he parts his own, letting the bloody mixture of his saliva drip into Jimin's lips, seeping into his mouth. He keeps a tight grip on the model, not letting him move or reject the offer the photographer gives him. Kook shimmies out of his pants while he does so, slowly climbing on top to straddle Jimin's lap, caging his small frame onto the chair.

The model nods rapidly, brushing the bloody mixture between their painted lips.

"I'll take it all." A string of Jungkook's red saliva trails between their parted mouths as Jimin arches up and steals a couple desperate kisses. "Anything you want to do t-to me." Whether he believes his own words or not is a big mystery. When he says anything, he forgets just how unpredictable and harsh his love can be when provoked. But in the moment, it feels right, especially when the heat of Jungkook's bare cock is felt so close to where he wants it most.

Jimin reaches his arms around Jungkook's torso, feels the muscles of his back tense and release while he finds his footing. He breathes in through his nose to smell the gentle cologne and musk of the photographer, and the very faint but nostalgic and calming scent of his shampoo. Jimin flicks out his tongue and tastes the rust that lingers atop the lipstick, closes his teary eyes to center himself before the pain takes hold. Perhaps there will be humiliation, or both, simultaneously.

"Anything, huh..." Jungkook looks at Jimin through mischievous eyes. His cock lays heavy against the model's clammy stomach, twitching at the new idea running through his mind. Normally, this is not something he would desire.. But this is a special occasion, and the action would fit the punishment and sate the unusual urges coaxing him to do what he does next. Jungkook leans in to kiss Jimin, keeping one palm on his lover's messy cheek. Jimin's lipstick moistens up, once again staining the photographer's mouth in their hot kiss-- a distraction from the way his other hand snakes behind him when he lifts his hips up, grabbing the elder's aching cock. He doesn't do much to prepare more than spread the slick precum along Jimin's length before guiding the swollen tip to his ass, stopping when he slowly sinks down on it until just the head slips in, drawing a hot gasp to push past his lips.

"Do not move." Jungkook whispers, kissing down the blonde's jaw to his neck, taking a few deep breaths as he sinks down further until Jimin's entire length is buried inside. Kook stays still for merely seconds, not allowing himself to adjust properly before he heaves himself up halfway, only to fall back down. The sound of his plump ass flattening against Jimin's thighs mixes in with the quiet grunts in pain and pleasure coming from him. It isn't his favorite thing to do-- preferably on the giving end, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy feeling Jimin writhe beneath him in various ways. Supposedly, Jungkook remains on the giving end, whether it's his cock or his ass that is the gift.

"Mmh, 's tight... Right?" He settles his hands on Jimin's chest, tilting his head to the side as he sits up straight to watch the man below from his higher view. His hips show less mercy as he gets used to it, finding a slow rhythm, "And your cock isn't even that big..." he shakes his head, feeling the heat on his cheeks in the form of a lustful blush when he finds an angle that brushes his prostate, grinding his ass down to chase that feeling over and over. "Just shows how much of a cockwhore you are for being able to take one as big as mine, ah shit.."

Jimin's sweaty palms clamor over Jungkook's back and move down to grip him hard at the hips. His eyes roll to the back of his head as his small body is engulfed by lean muscle and a hot grip around his cock. "Kookie, you--" This is the last thing he expected to happen--watching helplessly and breathing labored breaths as Jungkook's taut rim rides him rough. The sensation is more than expected, and much more than he remembers. "I can't, baby, it's too...much--fuck--" Nails pierce slicked skin as Jimin thrusts up to chase the hot clenching hole. Each time Jungkook pulls up, he whimpers at the loss and uses his wavering strength to pull him back down with an audible smack. The weight of the photographer is much more than he can bear, but he digs his heel into the ground to hold what little balance he has left, so hard he's sure the pin-point could snap at any moment. "So tight...around my cock...hahhh." Jimin's breaths grow weaker and thinner, gradually winded from the smack, smacking against his reddened thighs. "I--I--" He bites onto Jungkook's arm to hold steady, watching the room wobble in his peripherals. "Might c-cum in--gah!"

"Hah... I t-told you not to move." Jungkook's shaky, strained voice came out as a hiss between breathy gasps every time his ass collided with Jimin's firm thighs. Jimin's series of disobedient actions didn't bother Jungkook as much as they normally would, as this is a special occasion after all-- especially when he willingly put himself in a faux submissive state just to allow Jimin to indulge in a different way for the night. "Now you'll have to deal w-with, iiit-- fuck.." He clenches Jimin's hard cock tight when the latter bites onto his arm, the rush of the pain making him fuck himself rougher on top of the model. "Now you started it, so fuck me harde-er! Don't stop.." Jungkook growls lowly, shamelessly moaning and watching his own cock rub and drool against Jimin's stomach. With one hand firmly on Jimin's chest, the other smoothes up his neck to wrap around it, applying just enough pressure to put his lover in a deeper haze, ensuring that although he's not sure whether or not he's allowed to cum inside, he will have no other choice but to do so-- Jungkook wants him to lose any self control, and fill him up with shame and fear in his eyes of doing something he wasn't permitted to.

The straps of Jimin's bralette slaps off his shoulders once again, the small cups of it sliding around his chest the more his bouncing partner rubs against it. The momentum and chafe of the fabric teases his sensitive buds and makes them stiff, red, and swollen. So he lets the rest of the fabric fall down his body until his chest is bare, dewy with sweat. "Yes--hah ahh...s-sir." His own confirmation tapers to a pathetic whine as his breath weakens. Jungkook's grasp pins him by the neck, into the chair. The only freedom he's granted is the weak thrust of his hips to fuck the younger man from below, which he does to the best of his ability, growing weaker by the second. He won't stop, even if it means he blacks out from exertion, which feels closer than he likes to admit. Jimin pants heavily and digs in his fingertips. "I'll fill up this p-pretty hole." He speaks with delirious lust lacing his tone, just the way he would want to hear it. "Is that what you want, baby? Fuck, you're so t-tight--ahh! Can't wait..."

Jungkook leans in closer, slowing down his harsh thrusts only to replace them with slow, deep grinding. He licks his bloody lower lip, nodding while staring down at Jimin's heavy, zoned out gaze. He's losing it completely, and yet he tries too hard to please and do as told, and it warms the photographer's heart-- and it makes his cock leak profusely with the immense need to cum. So, therefore, he needs Jimin to break so he can finally give back what he's been holding for what feels like hours. "Yeah, fill me up well baby. Cum in me as deep as you possibly fuckin' can." The younger says with his low, lustful tone, still keeping his hold on Jimin's throat without loosening or tightening it. He inches closer to kiss his face, hot breaths huffing to warm his lover's skin with every grunt and moan that leaves his lips when he feels Jimin's hard cock prodding at his prostate with every fluid motion of his hips. "Cum," Jungkook repeats, deliberately clenching down on Jimin's cock, licking his cheek possessively, "Claim me with your filthy cum."

"Anything you want--ah!" Jimin's eyes screw shut as he rocks his thrusts up into Jungkook's wanting hole. "Feel my cock dragging in and out? Feel how n-needy I am to spill every fucking drop inside you?" His mind truly turns to mush, like a fever dream, losing any semblance of here and now. Only indulging in the very millisecond in which his body trembles to feel everything, all at once. "It's all for you, baby." He pontificates his oath with a harsh thrust from below, scraping his nails until the tender flesh of Jungkook's sides, drawing blood in his wake. "Fuck my cock...bounce on i-it...gahh!" The model becomes a shell of himself, as if he's boneless, thrusting his release in labored spurts, into his young love. "Moan for me, Kookie. Tear at this expensive lingerie and tell me I'm the prettiest man that's ever fucked you raw."

Jimin’s sudden and harsh words takes Jungkook by surprise— he expected the elder to fall apart one way of the other when he came inside, but what he didn’t expect was the spark of dominance that laced his voice and transferred to the way he clawed at the youngers skin. “F-fuck, ah— ow, mmhm...” Jungkook bites back his moans, to no avail when his sides are tortured by the models sharp nails, unable to hold back his pathetic whines when he feels his insides become filled with filthy, thick gushes of warm cum. “God, Jimin— J-Jimin, it hurts...” He gasps, letting himself and allowing a glimpse of actual submission to shine through his shivering body. His hands don’t know where to be, so he does as told and grabs the bralette in his fist and tugs, using his strength that’s spurred by pain to rip it off his lovers chest, while the other hand keeps him steady by grasping into the backrest of the chair. “Shit, I didn’t know you could say such things... that’s so hot, baby.” Jungkook huffs when he gathers himself slowly, unmoving while Jimin’s cock pulsates inside of him. He sighs and whines from the painful stretch of taking it without preparation, overestimating himself and yet relishing in the uncomfortable feeling. Jungkook glanced down at his bloody waist when he lifts himself from Jimin’s lap to let the latters length slip out, a splurt of cum seeping out with it. He hums in both delight and disgust, not used to the feeling of being on the receiving end..

“You did well baby.” Jungkook reaches behind him, catching a generous amount of Jimin’s cum to coat two of his fingers before bringing it to his mouth, licking it clean for the elder to see. The coy mischief returns to his gaze, leaning close to press his swollen length against Jimin’s stomach to let him know playtime’s far from over. “My turn. You good?” He places a kiss on Jimin’s scorching lips. “I can fuck you harder than that. Show you how it’s done..”

The photographer's proposition snaps Jimin back into the moment--eyes wide and dark, needing to feel exactly what he's inadvertently promised. As if the mere mention of fucking his needy hole is enough to make the blonde bend in any which way necessary to prove Jungkook's point. "Prove it," Jimin goads, unaware of the power that laces his tone. "I'm tired of being your porcelain doll...make me your filthy whore." The model wriggles from underneath the photographer until he's free from his caging clutch. Once he's able to maneuver solo, he flips himself over and juts out his plump ass, resting his ruddy cheek against the upholstery of the chair.

“Huh... maybe I spoiled you too much.” Jungkook drinks in the view below, standing up on his feet to properly watch the way Jimin arches his back to offer his body willingly— or rather, demanding his body be used like a disposable toy. A shiver ran down his spine as he replayed Jimin’s words over and over. A challenge, that he knows the model is aware that he can beat without even thinking. He must be so lonely, that the mere thought of having his unused hole filled drives him mad with need, and the temporary dominance got to his head. Kook likes it, the power in Jimin’s voice that is so rare when they’re alone.. but more than present when he is working. It’s like he brought home his persona of professionalism, and now Jungkook would get to corrupt this mask as well.

“I’ll make my pretty doll into the filthiest and prettiest of whores. I’m sure of it.” He murmurs while he reaches behind him to slowly drag his fingers in and out of himself, gathering the remainder of Jimin’s release onto his digits. He spreads his lover's cheek to get a good look of his tight rim, pink and unused like a virgin anew. Kook licks his lip, feeling the hardened texture of the dried cut on the skin. He brings his slicked fingers to Jimin’s ass, giving him little to no warnings before slipping his two digits inside, knuckle deep. “I’m just giving it back. It came from your filthy, whorish body.. but you don’t mind. This is where cum really belongs.” He says, loving the sound of his own voice a bit too much. He loves the way Jimin’s hole clamps down on his fingers as he speaks, and the way his hole becomes wet and slick, coating his fingers more and more with his juices with every in and out drag. He curls the pads of his fingers slightly, finding that one spot that he knows drives Jimin mad— especially if the abuser of it is his hefty cock.

"Mm--g-god. Please, yes." The model looks over his shoulder to provoke Jungkook to give him more. This is just the way it needs to be to provoke--to find that spot again, plumping up his full lips with a whiny pout. "Put my cum where it belongs, please, baby." Jimin presses his hips back to match the thrusts, wrenching his eyes shut to chase the high, feeling even hotter knowing the reason his tender hole is stretched so easily is because of his own cum. He rides Jungkook's fingers, nipping his lip and beckoning him closer with small kisses, placed anywhere he can reach. Through it all, he makes sure his back remains arched so his glistening pink entrance is visible. He knows how his partner salivates at the clear sight of his fingers disappearing and reappearing, hugged by his tightening rim, hearing how needy his butterfly is for his touch. "Finger out every bit and put it inside." The messy tear-streaked blonde spreads his legs wider on the chair, leaving as much room as possible for Jungkook to fit. "T-then fuck me full of more."

"I would've asked you to beg for it, but you're already so good at that.. You really are perfect." Jungkook makes his point with a particularly deep thrust with his double digits, twisting and scissoring to ensure that his lover is comfortably gonna be able to take something much bigger than his mere fingers. "Looks like your cum is the perfect lubricant, just feel how easily I got your pretty ass gaping for cock." Jungkook groans audibly to show how much he likes the view when he withdraws his slick fingers, wiping them clean on Jimin's clothed thigh, staining it with cum. "Can't wait for you to see it how I see it. It's so hot, so cute." He adds, spreading Jimin's cheeks with his thumbs before tugging at his hips, bringing him closer to let his heavy cock rest between, gathering the slick. He slowly drags his length up and down, prodding tastefully at Jimin's eager entrance before finally giving in, sinking the swollen head of his cock inside, followed with a quiet gasp from the photographer.

"Shit, even after all of this, you're still so tight..." Jungkook digs his nails into Jimin's hips, grabbing a fistful of the thong into his hands to tug him down to take more of his length inside, pushing past the thickest part of his girth. He watches the way the elder's pink rim is stretched past it's limit and then some, the sweet pink slowly morphing into a blushed red. "Your body drives me mad, baby. Almost lookin' like a woman with these on." He crumples the material in his hand, tightening the fabrics so that it presses against Jimin's spent cock. He gives an experimental thrust forward, and decides to give little time to adjust before he begins to roll his hips forward, slowly but steadily. He will break his butterfly, and making him cum a second time would be the perfect reward.

Pressure builds rapidly in Jimin's abdomen, causing his muscles to twitch and spasm. His walls clench down on Jungkook as he presses in deep, practically forcing his way in, claiming the space he's worked hard to make. Jimin can still feel the phantom stretch of the photographer's fingers as it's quickly replaced with thick, vascular cock. It's almost painful, which is a new sensation for the willing blonde. He's always made sure to breathe through it all, relax his body and mentally prepare for how rough Jungkook may or may not like it at that moment. It's a roll of the dice, and today, anything is possible.

The tight weave of red lace chafes against the model's fair skin as Jungkook thrusts pick up in pace, threatening to tear if tested enough. As much as Jimin loves the feeling of being as pretty as a girl, he doesn't blink an eye when the remaining heel falls to the floor. "S-slower...just...y-yeah, that's--" Jimin's words break into confused pleas, easing into the scene, calming his body enough to receive his partner, inch by inch. "You feel bigger today, Kookie," he gasps, rubbing his cheek into the upholstery of the chair's back and sullying it with his salty tears. He chokes on a quiet sob and presses his hips back to meet a new thrust, "I almost can't t-take it."

"Fuuuuck, say that again." Jungkook growls through his lustful, breathy words. He snaps his hips forward, rougher and buries his cock deeply to be as close as physically possible to his pretty lover. The photographer adores Jimin's choked words, and rarely does anything beat when he cries in pain due to the mere size of his thick length claiming it's space in the model's slick flesh. "Does it hurt?" He says with a noticeable grin that transfers to the tone of his voice. He grinds his hips forward while staying inside, ensuring the jeweled head of his cock is lodged deep inside, throbbing in excitement every time he feels Jimin clench around him with every audible sob. He drags out the moment, using the blonde to warm his cock properly, still grinding deeply inside. His hands greedily roam up and down Jimin's slender back, tracing his fingers on one of his favorite hidden features of his model-- the prominent, yet delicate line where his spine lies beneath his fair skin, moving prettily with every writhing movement of his torso.

"You know how much I love it when you endure pain for me.." He sighs, smoothing his tattooed hands down his lover's thin waist until they settle on his lower back, pushing down to force a stronger arch. "Feel that baby?" Jungkook licks his lips at the sight, intentionally flexing his cock inside to make a point of how impossibly hard he is, rocking his hips back and forth lightly to create the start of a momentum. "I said," He drags his length out further with every stroke, only to plunge it back in harder and harder, "Do you," And harder, "Feel that?"

"Yes...yes, fuck!" Jimin's cries are cut short by the heady penetration. The jolts burn his cheek against the chair, but not enough to distract from the sting of his abused hole.

Sounds of slapping skin rings in the model's ears--the force of Jungkook's pelvis colliding with his plump ass, deafening. "You--You're so big, I--" Jimin presses his ass back into the next deliberate thrust and swallows a yelp, morphing it into a sharp whine. He's incredibly tender from cumming already, full to burst once again. Only this time, there's more pressure built inside, like every ounce of fluid he could possibly possess is begging to be let free. "You'll make me cum too sooon." Jimin wriggles and writhes, but only for a bit, internally reminding himself to be good. Be a good boy for his Kookie. Stay still. Keep calm. Hands lay flat on the blonde's back, littered with faint marks of possession from months before. They scarred as a reminder, marking Jimin, helping him realize his one true place in life is right where he is in this moment--beneath Jeon Jungkook, moaning, whimpering, begging for pain and receiving adoring love and devotion in return. "More," he echos, softly at first, "Harder, fuck me h-harder..."

"You're whining so prettily, baby." Jungkook praises, getting a proper grip of the model's hips to use the strength in his arms to aid the pathetic attempts of Jimin trying to meet his thrusts. The harsh slapping of their skin coming together grows louder when he picks up the pace, indulging hungrily in the elder's hot, tight, insides over and over with his cock. He wishes so badly that he could stay like this forever and repeatedly claim Jimin's body and make him lose his mind. "Asking for more, when your frail body shakes so... Fuck, it only makes me want to hurt you more." He groans when a particularly rough thrust causes Jimin to clench down, his petite body jolting and his muscles quivering while struggling to stay in position-- trying his absolute best to be good. Jungkook's hunger for more grows, and with it, he fucks Jimin harder, digging his fingers into his slim hips to keep him in place, pulling him back on his cock when he's momentarily jolting forward with every forceful thrust. "Remember what I told you earlier? How I want you to scream so loud you cannot make a sound..." The photographer glances over at the camera, knowing it gets a full proper view of Jimin's face pressing against the chair while he can't see it as well from his perspective. He wonders what kind of expressions he's making right now..

He knows he'll be able to rewatch the content later, but he wants to see more..

Jungkook leans forward a bit, still fucking Jimin, heavy audible breaths of his hard labor pushing past his lips while he reaches around Jimin's small torso, lifting him on his knees. He hugs him close, pressing his muscular chest against Jimin's smaller frame, stomach perfectly melting together with the slender slope of Jimin's back. "Maybe I do prefer it if you scream loudly, though..." He buries his nose in Jimin's neck, kissing and biting his tender skin, one hand on his waist and the other smoothing up his stomach until he settles on his chest. The calloused pads of his fingers finds Jimin's nipple, reddened and sensitive due to the previous friction from the lace, making it real easy for him to find the reactions he's looking for when he pinches it hard between his fingers. His hips never cease to fuck generously, adamant to overwhelm every sense in the elder's pretty body.

With each filthy remark from Jungkook, Jimin yelps pleas of encouragement. The rough pinch simply drags it out of him, quick and loud. "M-more...harder! ...just like tha-aaat, shit..." He doesn't need guidance to say what comes next, meaning it with every short breath in his body-- "I'm a failure," he squeaks, "Cumming inside you so quickly, it's just--ahh!" You just f-felt so tight...and it's been so long, I..." Jimin grasps the hand that balances his flat chest and draws it up to grip tight around his neck, helping to push him over the edge--so close, it's almost alarming. Jimin squeaks, "...I'm gonna cum again. Fuck, I might...I don't know...I..." He loses his train of thought, not that there was much of one to begin with. Sobbing of praise and self depreciation are all his muddled mind can compute when he's fucked this well--now adjusted to his lover's large swollen length. "You fuck me too good...much better than I fucked you, I'm so s-sorr--mmmf--AH!"

Jungkook's pierced tip glides against his prostate, rubbing him raw, making his eyes flutter and skin tingle with the peak of his high. This is new. It's not normal. The gradual sensation he longs to feel is much more urgent, nearly bulging his abdomen to let free. "Wait, wait!" His small hand taps on Jungkook's arm to release him, struggling to pull away. His muscles spasm in a quick alert, and he knows all too well what's about to come next. "It's too much, I'll--" Before Jimin can finish his sentence, hot spurts of urine stream down his thighs and soak the chair he straddles. The second it starts to trickle out of his exhausted body, he can't stop it. Thrust after punishing thrust, spurts are fucked out of his shaking form until he's putty in the younger man's arms, quivering out what must be a form of orgasm. His cock pulses as his prostate continues to be abused, and all he can do is cry and whimper from embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry--hic. Kookie, I couldn't s-stop--hic"

"Are you embarrassed?" He smiles, "Can't even hold it in when getting fucked." Jungkook peeks over Jimin's shoulder to watch his smaller lover's body quiver and squirm, unable to hold in anything when the younger fucks it out of him without mercy. "Always love to make a mess, do you? Then acts so innocent.." He teases, hugging Jimin closer while he squeezes the blonde's throat tighter, leaning his delicate back against his muscular chest to allow Jimin to feel some leverage. He slows down the grinding of his hips when he's fucked out every single drop possible from the model's cock, just pathetically red and throbbing.

"I still didn't cum..." Jungkook sighs, stopping his movements. He keeps himself buried deep, the grip on Jimin's throat moving to his chin to guide their lips to meet in a messy, drooly kiss. He delicately pulls back to crook an eyebrow, internally beaming with pride at how utterly fucked out Jimin looks. "Move onto your back, lay in your own filth." He suddenly commands, letting go of the elder's weak body to let it fall limp onto the chair, letting his length slip out of his stretched gape. Impatient, he's already aiding him when he notices the light struggle and quivering muscles from oversensitivity-- grabbing his hips to help him to flip on his back.

"Humph." Jimin's hiccups weaken once he's on his back, sinking into the tepid pool of urine that seeps out of the cushion. He stares up at the younger man with saucer eyes--adoring stars swirling in his gaze, slowly coming down from his orgasm. The apples of his cheeks blush an endearing shade of pink, even more as the moisture spreads across his back. It's an ever-present reminder of the mess he made, all over Jungkook's studio chair--the one he sits on to do his work, and the one he reclines in to watch Jimin pose during their private shoots.

"It's wet," the model whines, wriggling to find a comfortable spot on the chair. His nose crinkles at the audible squish the fabric makes when he adjusts his posture, saturated in him, possibly ruined and unusable. His blush dissipates just a bit, because this is the state Jungkook longed to see him in. Perhaps the visual of an alluring male model in feminine lingerie was what intrigued the talented photographer. But, just like the mirrored room, everything must come crashing down until only he can build it back up in just the way he likes.

Jimin loops his arms under his knees and exposes his tender hole to his partner, offering himself as a toy to be played with. "Do you like this, Kookie?" He pulls back a bit more, earning a wet squish from the cushion below. "Seeing your butterfly, like this..."

“Good boy." Jungkook praises, nodding in approval while a long, slow swipe of his tongue coats his lips in the glossy shine of his spit. His predatory stare darkens at the mess he's created-- the vision he's been craving finally coming to life. "I love it, you're perfect." The aching, swell sensation of blood pumping through his body is prominent in his cock as he gives himself a few tempting strokes, placing one knee on the edge of the wet cushion and the other keeping leverage on the floor while caging Jimin's body beneath him. He lines up the thick, jeweled head of his cock with the model's gaping entrance with one hand, placing his other palm on Jimin's thigh to dig his fingers into the soft flesh, aiding him in holding his legs back.

"You've done so well tonight, baby.. There's no better look for you than this.. My spoiled, expensive doll.." Jungkook's dark eyes squint as he smiles softly, a contrast compared to the way he drives his hips forward to bury his cock deep once more, welcomed by the stretched, slick flesh that hugs him tightly in the form of muscle clenches. Even when spent, Jimin does what he can to please. "My messy whore." He quickly builds up the momentum, using the full potential of every silky inch of his rigid length as he drags it in and out, harder and harder, until Jimin's petite body once more begins to jolt upwards with each and every powerful thrust. "S-shit, I love your body, I can't get enough of you like this." Jungkook spits out between grunts, thriving in the wet sounds of his cock plunging into the model, along with the squishes of his small body forcibly rubbing against the wet chair.

The photographer grits his teeth, chest heaving with every shallow breath and muscles flexing to fuck into him harder, harder to release every bit of primal desire to use Jimin to chase his impending high. "G-gonna cum soon," Jungkook's hazy eyes never waver from Jimin's face, watching it distort into his favorite expressions, a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Want me to cover your pretty face with it?"

Jimin doesn't have the power to speak, lost in the trance of Jungkook's cock railing into him at a powerful rate. His aching ring of nerves pulsates with sensitivity, so sore and spent that any words spilling from his rouge bitten lips would be desperate pleas to slow down. Positively not an option. It's their anniversary. Today is a special day--the most monumental day in Jimin's life to date, above any major career move or step in the spotlight. A year ago he may have placed himself before the pleasurable and painful touch of the photographer's hands on his flesh, but that part of himself has been far from erased. Now, in this studio, in their little private world, Jimin naturally folds at the simplest suggestion from the young visionary.

"Cum on my face, baby," he whimpers, holding his knees to his chest for stability. He nods rapidly to confirm, it's exactly what he wants. "Paint your whore--fuck. Cover me in you, I n-need it...all over my skin. Record it, up close. Please, pleasee." His voice squeaks, caught off guard by how badly he truly wants this. More than anything, he knows how beautiful the final scene will look--him, covered in tacky red sinful lace, sticking to his small body with cum, sweat, and spit. Smeared with lipstick. Prettied up and ruined for one man only.

Jimin knows exactly what the photographer wants to hear, and it's obvious by the way Jungkook's eyebrows furrow in concentration, gaze burning into the vision beneath him.

"I love it when you beg like that." Jungkook praises yet again, giving the model another punishing thrust before pulling out, leaving the gaping, needy hole empty for tonight. Normally, he would never pass on an opportunity to stuff Jimin full of his cum-- but tonight, his vision took the top priority over any carnal instincts. He had this vision in mind for forever, and it is finally becoming his reality.

"Look at me." Jungkook commands while taking a step back, tugging at Jimin's bicep to pull his spent body to slide down to the floor on his knees in front of him. He hooks the pad of his finger underneath the blonde's chin, tilting his head back to look up. His other hand works his slick length quickly and roughly, ready to burst at any given moment-- he's held it so well, and he knows he will cover his doll's perfect face with everything he's got. It'll be the ultimate visual of his fantasies; Jimin, the picture perfect man in shambles, ruined makeup and covered in various body fluids willingly, merely to serve and keep the photographer satisfied and happy. Maybe even excited for the rewards that come with compliance. "Pretty... So pretty, and all mine, hahh.." Jungkook hisses through labored breaths, clammy chest heaving as he looks down at Jimin's lips, rubbing the jeweled tip of his cock against them, stroking his cock purposefully to make a show out of the way his tattooed hand effortlessly glides thanks to every little ounce of slick fluids his lover provided. "Keep looking at m-me...fuck, I'm gonna--gah, cum." He moans louder to let Jimin know how much he's enjoying this, and the visual from both their perspectives must be otherworldly. Both men are utterly devoted and obsessed with the other.

Just as Jungkook's hip move to fuck into his hand, they stutter when his orgasm hurls over the edge without much of a warning. A drawn out, deep groan rumbles from the back of his throat, and it feels like his eyes would roll to the back of his head if he didn't intentionally keep himself so focused on watching the way thick, hot ropes of cum began to paint the model's delicate features one by one. His hand squeezes his cock, thighs tensing and relaxing between every twitching throb of his orgasm. He spits curses and praise, moans and whines, not stopping until he's made sure Jimin's skin is an entire mess, glazed with his release.

Silken droplets of pearly cum slip down Jimin's cheek and tickle the pert pout of his lips. Slowly, he licks away what he can, peeking open an eye and giving a longing look of devotion. The salty release tingles on the tip of his tongue, which he savors with a low hum. He doesn't need to ask to know how much the photographer enjoys this sight. He knows that from this angle, he's a masterpiece, commemorating a year of servitude in the most filthy way imaginable. The low glow of the recording camera reminds him of his duty, to show off his final look--a far departure from the stunning, sinful vision he admired in the mirror. Heels are scattered on the floor, stained with a light streak of blood. Stockings are torn ragged, and bralette is askew and hanging loose. With no way of truly knowing, Jimin assumes he must look a complete and utter wreck. Still, remnants of lipstick stain him in misplaced splotches, smearing down his lips and onto his chin. The ruddy makeup appears to be even brighter and remarkable under the luminous sheen of cum that slips off his chiseled jaw. Jimin lifts to his knees and palms at Jungkook's thighs to draw him closer. "Come here."

Jungkook mindlessly follows Jimin's quiet order, stepping closer before dropping to his knees in front of him, meeting his hazy eyes on face level. He can't do anything but admire his work as if in a blurry trance, and the boiling adoration in his gaze is evident.

"I'm here, baby." He says quietly, glancing over at the camera. He had gotten his shot, the visuals of everything he'd been hungering for now captured in an eternal digital memory. A sense of pride and content fills his chest as he looks back at Jimin, reaching out to swipe his thumbs underneath his makeup smeared eyes. He takes another longing moment to just look, slowly inching closer until he finds the model's pillowy lips with his own. He kisses him gently once, twice before pulling back.

"You did amazing. I got the perfect shot, and you looked so gorgeous." He rubs Jimin's bruised neck slowly, examining the purple and red marks, "Did you enjoy it a lot? I had this planned for a while.. And it came out even better than I anticipated.."

The blonde closes the distance again to kiss Jungkook tenderly. A shaky hand cups the photographer's face while the other mindlessly holds him at the waist for balance. The room shifts subtly, and Jimin breathes into the motion, tilting his head to follow the natural part of their mouths moving as one.

"Mhm," he hums again, indulging in the comfort and warmth of Jungkook's touch. He needs it after, always, to feel like a precious doll again. Like clockwork, they come together into a slow comedown, feeling their united heartbeat as the tips of their fingers brush against damp skin. "Happy anniversary," Jimin smiles into a sweet and short kiss. The tentative hold on his neck draws the model in more and he allows the younger man to indulge in his creation. He allows it until the warm ropes of cum begin to tack to the round apples of his cheeks, and the slight discomfort of his muscles begin to set in.

"So sticky and wet now, Kookie. Just how you like," Jimin smirks, pleased he could once again fulfill his love's vision. "I may need some help getting out of this though." Jimin hints at the soaked, ruined lingerie that still clings to his torso.

"I'm so happy. Thank you for taking me so well, baby." Jungkook places one last rewarding kiss on Jimin's sticky cheek before he gets up on his feet, bringing his lover up with him to lift him up into his strong arms. He holds him close, walking over to the camera to turn the recording off and heads towards the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed, I have another surprise for you." He smiles through his statement, placing Jimin on the toilet seat to wait while he draws a hot bath. He turns to Jimin, reaching behind his torso to unclasp the bralette and discard it on the floor, then resumes to tug at the panties to get them off. Every action of his is tender now, the aftercare more than important to ensure that Jimin is properly rewarded for doing so well and taking every rougher part of him-- so he deserves the affection as well. "Come." He coaxes lowly, undressing properly as well until the tub is filled, and takes Jimin's hand in his to guide him into the water, seating them with Jimin's small frame practically in his lap. A soft sigh pushes past his lips from the relaxing warmth surrounding them. "Wash your face off first, don't want your eyes to get irritated."

Jimin cups the warm bathwater in his hands and stares at the faint shadow of his face cast over it. He pauses a moment, adjusting to the comfort of being supported from behind--feeling small and cared for, then brings the water up to cleanse. The warmth soothes over his soft skin, and after only one splash, he can feel the layers of grime shluff off. His palms tinge a faint red. Lipstick rubs away, followed by other various bodily fluids, some of which need a couple passes before it is completely removed. The work to remove it only makes Jimin appreciate the work Jungkook put into planning such an unexpected night.

"I never get tired of this," Jimin coos, bring another palmful of water up to wash over his face, "Taking baths together...it's one of my favorite things." Baths--such a normal and almost childlike experience. It's something that brings the small model pleasant ripples of nostalgia, like it was only yesterday they first shared the simple experience of cleaning one another. It's centering, to wash away the filth of the day and watch it slide down the drain until it's gone completely. Jimin reclines into the tender embrace of his love and allows him to rub soapy water over his body, moaning gently the cleaner he feels.

"One year," the blonde sighs, closing his eyes, "What would I have done if I never met you?" He tilts his neck to get a good look at the younger man. "Life would be so...boring."

"Indeed." Jungkook agrees, the toothy grin on his face just as childish and endearing as when they first met eye to eye in his studio. He looks back at Jimin with just as much-- if not more admiration swirling in his doe eyes. He cranes his neck to kiss the elder's forehead, gentle hands smoothing over his petite body to rub off tonight's events. "But it was fate." He adds, hands moving up to comb his fingers through the blonde curls after adding his familiar shampoo into his palms, massaging his tender scalp with the comfort of his scent.

"Sooner or later, we would've found each other." A moment of silence follows, all that is heard is Jungkook cleaning Jimin's hair while the latter basks in the aftercare.. until he speaks again. Whether Jimin heard it or not, remains a mystery.

"I would've made sure of it."

© sombreboy 2021. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[amiedala]

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 1: INTO THE STARS

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: light descriptions of violence

Summary: Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

Or, a slow burn love story across the stars featuring you, Din, and your little green baby. With love, angst, lust, and everything in between following you across the galaxy.*this deviates from canon for the most part, the plot begins at the very end of season 1 and will deviate for about half of season 2! there is LOTS planned for this (i already have 19k words written & will be posting regularly) so i hope you all enjoy!! <3 muah*

this is 1000000% completely inspired by the incredible behemoth SUPREME Mandalorian fic Rough Day by our lord & savior @no-droids but it will have its entire own plot & more of a slowburn in both love & smut, specifically for suffering long haul romance lovers like myself!

i already have 19k words written & will be ATTEMPTING to post updates regularly (and if i get excited about getting new chapters up, they might come early. i'm gonna try to post Saturday evenings every week, extenuating circumstances notwithstanding <3

hope you enjoy!!! more to come VERY SOON!!!

Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

You met him on Nevarro. You weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be back in the Mid Rim by that point, long gone from your last mission gone sour. Your ship had broken down and you narrowly escaped a crash landing, and you’d hiked for hours through the unyielding lava fields for the closest town, with nothing but a handful of credits and the clothes on your back. Somehow, miraculously, you were able to grab the last of your water and your mother’s necklace from where it was hanging on the dashboard before the magma had bubbled up and claimed the better half of the old X-wing before you could go back in for more.

“Dank ferrik,” you seethed, and the curse felt alien under your tongue. There was no one out here to hear it but yourself, the lava, and the sulfuric air, anyways, so you grumbled out a few more before the ship fully sank into the magma in front of you.

The ship itself wasn’t a big loss—you’d only gotten it because it was the cheapest after you lost your own to that smuggler, but being stranded on a planet that was so aggressive towards any sort of survival wasn’t the best circumstance in the galaxy. But here you were, stuck, unmoored, anchorless, on a planet not known for anything except its rivers of lava and a bounty hunters’ guild you’d heard about and tried your best to stay away from. That town was the only landmark you had, though, so you begrudgingly trekked across Nevarro’s molten surface in search for any form of civilization.

The sky had started to slip off into darkness, and the small flecks of the other Outer Rim planets glistened lightyears away from where you were hiking when you stumbled over something and nearly fell into what you assumed was a dormant vat of lava. It was only when you scrambled away from the hot pocket of ground that you realized it was a stormtrooper helmet. A stormtrooper helmet with a head still in it. You gasped and skittered away, pushing off the heels of your hands to get upward as fast as you can, not even registering the heat eating through the skin of your palms. You didn’t have a weapon—the old blaster you’d carried for the last few years had been eaten up with the X-Wing—and as your eyes adjusted to a collection of white armor and bodies on the ground, you kicked yourself from not prioritizing the gun over getting out unscathed.

You didn’t scare easy. You grew up on a slowly abandoned Rebel base back on Yavin, and even after your parents’ deaths, you were surrounded by a legion of people who took care of you and taught you how to fight. Really, you were good at getting out of sticky situations that looked too dire to survive—take the crash landing an hour back for example—but you had a giant blind spot of earnestness to believe the people you went into business with were being sincere. That’s how the ship had crashed in the first place, you exchanged a repair of your original starship with providing Alderaanian liquor to a smuggler and his droid back on Dantooine who had both cut and run with it before fully repairing the vitally broken control panel. It was a rookie mistake, which you definitely weren’t, but he had just seemed so earnest in his need for the alcohol, and your fatal flaw was that you always trusted people who needed help. Even to your own detriment.

It had been your downfall back home, and at least twice when you were adventuring through the Outer Rim, and when you narrowly escaped a Deveronian when you had first started out on your own, because you were too close to a scumbag in friend’s clothing who fumbled the bag and left you for dead. He even stole your ship, then, and you had to make a series of sordid deals to get off Polis Massa, let alone find a place where you could crash safely for weeks before you could work up enough credits to get the X-Wing, which was, quite ceremoniously, dead now.

You shivered with the realization that you might be in danger, too. There were so many bodies scattered across this ridge and the next, and a handful of crashed TIE fighters. The sight of them didn’t strike fear into you—they never really had, you were raised in the Alliance and you could outfly the Empire since you were six years old—but they made you feel uneasy. Nevarro didn’t have a Rebel base, and you had never met someone in the Alliance who was from the planet. With the obvious show of Imperial affiliation and the bounty hunters’ guild, Nevarro was seedy enough that it kept you on edge as you walked, hopefully towards a town with people who didn’t want anything more from you than an easy job.

It must have been near dawn when you finally made it to the edge of the town. It was at best shot to all hell and at worst absolutely obliterated. Your heart sank. There were more dead suits of white armor scattered across the dirt and sand. There were helmets on pikes that looked far too fresh. Your hand twitched near your thigh where your blaster was usually strapped. All of this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have left the blaster in the ship. If you were really playing the game of regrets, though, you never should have helped the smuggler. You should have paid the fifteen more credits to get the X-Wing fixed on Tatooine instead. You should have stayed on Yavin after your parents died and shouldn’t have been so earnest to make it on your own and—

“Hey.” The voice came from behind you, and you whipped around so fast your hair fell from where the clasp had been hanging on to nothing but a prayer since your crash landing. You shook it away from your face, eyes squinted at the figure that seemed to materialize behind you. “Where are you from, pretty thing?”

“Coruscant,” you lied through your teeth. The name of the planet you’ve been trying to avoid for years burns a hole through your belly.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.” He stepped into the light, and he wasn’t human. You didn’t know what he was, exactly, but his tone made your skin crawl. You held your ground.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m looking for a mechanic.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Like hell he was. You clenched your jaw, trying to look menacing. The grease and sweat from the hike there was smeared on your face, your pants had gotten ripped while climbing out of the crash. You didn’t like how his eyes fixated hungrily on the flesh of your exposed thigh, and you had to shake the thought away while you walked into a voice much more brazen than your own.

“Do you know how to fix an X-Wing?” You stepped forward, and the Rebel insignia on your necklace glinted in the low light. Around these parts, after the fall of the Empire, you’ve heard Rebels strike fear into the local folk. Suddenly, the guy took a step backward, and you reveled in your menace for a split second before you realized someone was standing behind you.

He didn’t speak again before he took off. You stuttered, the sudden appearance of the figure behind you catching in your chest, and it rose to a cut off yelp when a red blast knocked the one who had hit on you off his feet, spiraling over a stormtrooper body, falling to the rocky floor. Dead. He was dead. You spun, praying that your heart hammering in your chest was just leftover adrenaline and not a signifier of a new threat.

Standing behind you, outfitted entirely in silver reflective armor, was a Mandalorian. “Nevarro doesn’t have mechanics.”

You squinted. You were completely taken aback by his presence, his hulking realness, but suddenly his statement overpowered your revelry. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That X-Wing crashed out there is yours.” It isn’t a question. His voice is deep, a baritone that spreads warmth even blocked by the modulator in his helmet. You’d only heard of Mandalorians in stories, legends, around the campfires growing up. You didn’t expect one to ever materialize in anything other than myth, let alone stand in front of you, electric.

You nod. Did he follow you all the way to town?

“You aren’t looking for a mechanic.” His voice is so sure, so big. Your world spins on its axis, the feeling foreign and familiar all at once. He had spoken three sentences to you, and already, you felt that dizzy, magnetic pull that you tried to convince yourself was there much more often than it was.

“I…” You trail off, staring up at his visor. He seems larger than life, much larger than you, at least, and for some reason, the hugeness is cutting off all of your words before they can fully form. “No. I need a way off this planet, though.”

“Can you fly?”

You balk at his question, annoyed—obviously, you could fly—and then remember the only track record you have in the Mandalorian’s eyes is your ship, crash landed and then immediately swallowed by lava. “I’m a pilot. A runner. I’ve been flying since I was six years old.”

He takes a minute, completely silent. The noise of the scattered stormtrooper bodies around you suddenly seems deafening. You aren’t scared of him. You think. Your heart is still hammering, but it’s nothing like the fear that rushed through you when the alien talked to you a few minutes ago. It’s different—not adrenaline, exactly, and not fear. You place the feeling when it washes over you again, warm and unexpected—Excitement.

“Okay.” He moves, and you startle. You didn’t realize the conversation was over.

“Uh,” you stammer, “Do you… do you need a pilot?”

“No,” he says, over his shoulder. His strides are long. You step forward, almost pulled after him, then stuttered to a stop. “But I might be your only ride out of here.”

“Oh,” you manage, and then follow him. The dim light spreads over the horizon as you walk, stunned into silence by his own, trying to mimic his step, his quiet. It doesn’t happen. You’re clunking along beside him, the noise made even louder by the silence in his gait. “I’m not picky, where we go, you know—I was heading away from the Outer Rim, so I’m in no rush to get back there, but—I mean, I’m thankful that you’re taking me anywhere—”

“I can’t pay you. But you don’t have to pay me, either.”

You blink, feet stuttering to a near stop, buffering before you remember to keep following him. “I’m sorry?”

“You can fly, right?”

You blink, eyes darting up to the back of his helmet. It might just be the modulator, but there’s no air in his voice, no struggle to cross the hard, hot terrain. It’s impressive. “I can, but you thought you didn’t need a pilot—?”

“You were a rebel.” His voice is curt. Quick.

Your eyebrows furrow, looking down at the insignia on your necklace and then back up at him. There’s a dry breeze over the molten moors, and his cape catches in the wind. It flutters. It’s the first sign of something gentle about him. It’s the memory you take with you for months later, savoring it for when he’s leaving you on the ship while he goes and catches his bounties, one by one. You cling to it in the long lapses of time where he doesn’t offer you anything but silence. You’ll hold onto it, a butterfly of a memory, for weeks—until he offers you something softer, something warmer. Something real.

You don’t know that in the moment, though. Right now, he’s asked a question, and you’re struggling to answer it honestly. “I was.”

“You don’t scare easily.”

It’s like he’s putting together these impossible puzzle pieces of your life. How is he guessing this? He’s known you for maybe ten whole minutes. It swells in your chest, a thunderbird of a thing, and you don’t know why.

“I’d like to think so,” you manage, as he tilts his helmet back to search you for your answer. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of his eyes on you, and you wonder what color they are. Maker. Where did that come from?

“Good.”

A ship seems to materialize out of nowhere, but it seems more likely that you were so caught up in the mystery of the Mandalorian and keeping your gaze locked on him that his ship was in the periphery of your vision. You follow him, still confused, up the descended gangplank. Sitting in the middle of the ship is a tiny green baby, with eyes ten times the size of its nose, with peach fuzz lazily dusting the top of its head. It’s holding a tiny silver ball in its three-fingered hands, looking up at the Mandalorian with outstretched arms.

You watch, in stunned silence, as the giant hulking silver figure crouches down to pick up the baby, meeting its little coos with soft words right back. It’s as soft as his cape fluttering in the wind, an unexpected, fleeting feeling of warmth. You don’t know what to do with yourself. The warm breeze buffets the small of your back, ruffles your loose hair. You just stand there, entirely enamored with this tiny green baby in the Mandalorian’s arms, speechless.

“You don’t scare easily,” the Mandalorian repeats.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He holds the baby up to you. “How about now?”

You blink, confused. “Am I supposed to be scared of it?”

“Him.”

You take a tentative step forward, gaze flickering between the two of them, wondering what would have happened if you had crash landed literally anywhere else, at literally any other time. Something big and ceremonious swells somewhere deep in your chest.

“I’m not scared,” you finally say, and when your eyes find his visor again, you hope he knows you mean you’re not scared of either of them. You could be—most people with common sense are struck with fear at the sight of meeting a Mandalorian, especially one associated with such a widespread bounty hunters’ guild—but fear just keeps getting pushed away as the seconds pass. A small voice in the back of your head whispers that this is another mistake of being too trustful, but the larger half of you knows how to handle yourself if you find trouble. Besides, he has a tiny alien kid, and something tells you the Mandalorian wouldn’t put the baby in a situation that he deemed unsafe. As the door zips shut behind you, you step forward into the ship—into the place you’ll eventually make your home—heart still hammering on and on, thrumming as the three of you lift off of Nevarro’s surface and into the stars.

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.”                  

She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.”                       

PART ONE HERE

A/N: It came out fast!!! I had lowk already started it, so that’s why this update came so quickly. Please don’t expect them all to come this fast LMAO. I usually write slow as fuck. Anyway, I really hope you guys like this part so I can maybe just maybe turn this into a mini series. Please lmk if you guys like :) 

CONTENT WARNINGS: KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF SEX (lmk if i missed any please) 

I paced the bullpen as the team spoke to Penelope. The shock of her pregnancy was starting to wear off, and now I could think more clearly. How could she? What was she thinking? 

Recently, I’d found myself thinking about it more, a baby her and a mini-me. A family of my own, with the love of my life. It was exciting and like a lovesick fool it made my stomach fuzzy. But she wasn’t ready and I couldn’t do that to her. So how could she do it to herself? She hadn’t finished school, hadn’t started her career. She could barely take care of herself! I wasn’t mad, absolutely not. Just disappointed at her self-sabotage and the fact she’d made the decision completely without me. I couldn’t think about it for long though, because I was swiftly reminded by my surroundings that right now, there was a chance I’d lose her, our child and any children we wanted to have in the future. That was the priority. 

“Garcia, check her credit card records, we need to see where she last was.” Hotch said. 

“Uhm, okay,” Penelope took a deep breath while clicking away, “Let’s see. Her last purchase was last night, 6:49 at a CVS Pharmacy, oh--” 

“What Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“She was um, picking up her monthly case of birth control.” 

JJ broke the silence, “Spence…” she started towards me. 

I breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank god.” 

“Thank god?” Morgan questioned. 

“She’s 23.” I wiped my face, “Whole life ahead of her.” The team understood what I was trying to say. Rossi’s hand fell on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“So why would she tell Brook she was?” Garcia asked. 

“I uh, I..I don’t know.” I spat out. I really had no idea.  

“Think Reid.” Rossi told me. “You guys ever talk about kids or pregnancy?”

“She might be trying to send us a message,” Emily added. 

I thought back to the last time we discussed starting a family. 

--FLASHBACK-- 

We were surrounded by timeless pieces of art and history, and yet the true masterpiece was still her. She was always beautiful to me, a perfect being, truly. But today, something about the way she looked today specifically, made her look like the kind of beauty you see in a painting. Had she been a painting, her creator must have been skilled. Each stroke of his brush creating every divine curve of her face and body to produce a work of magnificent art, one that I so proudly hung on the walls of my heart. 

I remember exactly what she wore, and how it felt to take it all off. The painter had an eye for color. Her denim skirt, the length or lack thereof making me embarrassingly wary, was blue like the Mediterranean Sea, complementing the pigment of the skin of her legs. A white button down made of silk, not worn properly, of course. Too many buttons were left open at the top, as to draw attention to the gold adorned on her chest, but in the spell of temptation she procured to cast upon me, my eyes wandered to admire territories of her body they shouldn’t have. Not in public, at least. The buttons at the bottom were left untouched as well, revealing the soft skin of her stomach. She looked like an angel, but of course, went out of her way to instead be my temptress.

My affinity for her beauty aside, the wide eyes in delight at the museum artifacts and careful attention to my commentary were what made our excursion wonderful. The feeling of her smaller hand in mine, and the giggles and the teasing “You’re way too nerdy to be so stupid hot Dr. Reid.” made it absolutely perfect. 

In exchange for her listening so attentively to my historical facts and stories, I took her for ice cream. She insisted we ate it on the greens of Lincoln Park. Who was I to deny her that? What came next--I expected. She’d devoured it. Made a mess of strawberry ice cream on her white shirt. 

“It was the wind!” She insisted as the first of many drips of ice cream fell down her chin. 

“No it was not!” I argued back while wiping it, “You just never learned how to eat ice cream properly.” I gently removed the cone from her hands and into mine, taking an overzealous bite. “This, lovey, is how you eat ice cream.” 

“Give it back, you...you dickass!” She snorted. We laughed like two lovesick teenagers. 

“Dickass?” I asked, eyes watery from laughter. 

“Yeah dickass, give me back my damn ice cream.” I took another bite, “Stop! You’re eating it all!” She pouted. Pouts were unfortunately my weakness and I handed it back to her. However, in her rush, the pink scoop had fallen directly on her blouse. 

“Way to prove my point,” I started to take off my cardigan, “You want dickass’s sweater?” 

She wanted to be mad but couldn’t contain the wince of a smile. “Please.” 

We carefully removed her shirt from under while simultaneously putting the cardigan in its place. 

“Spence don’t let me flash! There’s kids and judgmental old ladies here!” 

I laughed and shushed her, “I know, I know.” I moved all the fabrics quickly and it was done. Her sticky pink shirt was replaced with my soft sweater. “There.” 

“My hero,” She kissed me, “Truly.”

She leaned back on our picnic blanket on her shoulders as we observed our fellow park goers. “So many kids.”  

I nodded my head in agreement. “Yeah…” 

“We should bring our kids here one day.” she said, instantly breaking my haze from the crowd so I could only see her. 

I smiled again at the thought, “Yeah, and tell them how their mom is the world's clumsiest ice cream eater.”

She looked at me with disdain before shoving her shoulder into mine. “Shut up.” 

“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.” 

She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.” 

I toppled her so we were laying down, facing each other. She kissed me hard, and my hands went to the sides of her face, only pulling back to say “I can’t wait for it, you know. My two little girls.” 

She smiled, “But I’ll always be your favorite right?” she asked sarcastically. 

I laughed, “Oh of course. Always.” 

“I’ll have a big ol’ belly, you know.” I nodded, “You’d still be perfect.” 

“We’d have to go to the mall, buy me a shitload of new clothes. Do ya know how dirty malls are Spence?” I winced at the thought of thousands of strangers bacteria on every surface and she laughed, “Got ya.” I shook my head, “Nope! I uh, I’ll just bring hand sanitizers and uh, to the Maternity section we’ll go.” 

“Non-stop Panda express eating.” I nodded again, “I’ll be non-stop Panda Express buying, then.” She smiled so hard her nose scrunched. 

“I love you Spencer.” 

“I love you too. I am so in love with you.” 

--FLASHBACK ENDS--

“Yeah but it was trivial.” I said. 

“Maybe not,” Hotch argued, “Was anything mentioned specifically?” 

“A name she liked?” Prentiss added, “Maybe a craving she thought she might have? Anything at all?” 

I nodded, “Not a food, but a fast food place. Panda Express.” I doubted that would be helpful. 

“It’s a stretch but, Garcia, check for any dilapidated buildings within 10 miles of a Panda Express.” 

“Yes sir,” She typed away and then said, “No, guys. I’m sorry. All of our Panda Express’s are in pristine malls or new developments.” 

“Mall!” I shouted, “She said we’d have to go to the mall! She knows I hate the mall.” 

Morgan pointed at us, “The tiles in that room look like they could be from some 80’s Bloomingdales.” 

“Garcia-” I said. 

“Already on it.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pregnancy ruse was either going to get me killed, or save my life. It was a moment of panic and I just wanted to throw her off. I know it did, but in what direction? 

She was still crying, her demeanor with me was still laced with bitter animosity, but she was calmer now. 

“How long have you known?” Brook asked, the contents of her flask now empty and her words slurred. 

“I found out yesterday.” I lied through my teeth. 

She shrugged her shoulders, “Had you guys talked about it?” 

“Vaguely.” I admitted. 

“What’d Spencer want? Boy or girl?” I debated on whether or not to say, and she caught on. “Don’t fucking lie.” She stated harshly. 

“Girl.” I breathed out. “He wants a girl.” 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I don’t care.” I said. That was true. 

“How come?” 

“I just want to start a family with him. Don’t really care about the gender…” That was true as well. 

“Oh.” she nodded her head, “Why’d he want a girl?” It was strange, her  genuine curiosity. It freaked me out, but my alternative was being stabbed. I chose to just answer her questions, regardless of how much I really did not want to.  

“He liked the idea of a little girl who looked like me.” 

She winced, eyes tearing up further. “Right.” I was beginning to realize her feelings were very real. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” I asked. I knew I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help it. My head was still looking for an answer as to how she could be driven to do something like this. 

She clasped her hands together, her anger returning.  “Don’t fucking start. You know nothing of what I feel for Spencer.” She came up closer and tugged at my hair, “Fucking nothing.” 

“Okay,” I grimaced at the pain from the force at which she pulled my hair, “I-I’m sorry.” 

She let go, “You should be. You really, really fucking should be.” She sat back down, pensive for a while. I wish I knew what she was thinking about. 

My heart had not stopped it’s fast pace ridden with anxiety since I gained full awareness of my situation, but now, it felt like it was going to burst through my chest. Was she planning on just killing me now? 

My anticipation ceased when she got up and brought back the camera with her again. “Hello BAU. There has been a change in plans. Your beloved,” The words reeked of sarcasm, “Y/N here, will be returned eventually. . She’s gonna be fine. However, it is now in everybody best interest if this video feed was cut out. Sorry.” She said before mouthing, “No I’m not.” She shut the camera off. 

She turned to me, “I hate you. Fucking despise you.” Figures. 

“But I would never hurt Spencer. Or his child. Even if it is being carried by a whore like you.” 

She began to pace once more, “You’re obviously a mistake on his part. You clearly tricked him with sex and...no just sex I think. You're not really smart enough to be capable of anything else. Regardless, he’s probably already thinking about abortions or adoption. There’s no way in hell a man like him could ever want to start a family with a girl like you.” She shook her head, “Absolutely not.” 

I could only nod my head at her delusions. This woman was so far up her ass. 

She pinched my cheeks together with her cold hands, “You tried to trap him. How’d that go for you?” 

I was silent.

“I asked you a fucking question!” She held my face impossibly tighter. 

“Poorly.” I got out, “Poorly.” 

“In 9 months, I’ll help you deliver your baby. And then, you can go.” Brook backed away and let go of her tight grip on my face. “I’m keeping the kid. Raising it.” She smiled, “I’ll be the mother Spencer’s child will deserve. And then-” A giggle creepily reminiscent of a schoolgirl’s left her throat, “He’ll love me!” 

Brooks intention had twisted from wanting to murder and torture me as revenge for “taking” Spencer, to a now twisted maternal desire for his (hypothetical) child. But if Spencer and his team couldn’t find me before the time I was supposed to be showing, I was fucked. Utterly fucked. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Taglist: @britishspidey

(Let me know to be added)

[ohh-baekhyun]

Sugar | 03

summary: Getting into a performing arts college isn’t cheap. In desperate need of money, you sign yourself up on an online dating site called Sugar. There, you match with a wealthy man named Mr Byun.

genre: Softdom!baek, sugardaddy!au, teacherxstudent!au

taglist : in comment section. im sorry if i missed you, i deleted some of my asks the other time. let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

One Month Later

Living in a spacious apartment had its own downside. More often than not, I felt lonely, but I wasn’t complaining. Baekhyun didn’t come over everyday because he wanted to give me time to do things that didn’t involve him. I think they called it me time, whatever that was. Baekhyun said it was to prevent us from growing too dependent on each other, which could be unhealthy. And as much as I disliked it, he was right. Our relationship wasn’t permanent, and there would come a time when either one of us had to call the arrangement off. I would be sad, because that’s human, but not to the point where I became depressed.

When I wasn’t spending the day with Baekhyun, I’d be practicing the piano. After my father passed away, my stepmother had sold off our Steinway and stopped paying for my lesson. I was lucky to know a friend who allowed me to practice at her music shop for free. When I wasn’t practicing, I would be at home, taking care of my little plants on the balcony. They were like my babies.

Since Baekhyun had suggested that I learned a new language, I’d decided to take up Chinese. He had offered to hire a home tutor for me, but I insisted on learning it myself because Chinese lessons were expensive. We argued about it for a while, until he decided he wanted to learn too. We had our lesson together every Sunday afternoon for two hours. Our tutor, Miss Fei, was a long time friend of Baekhyun. And for some reason, she was always picking on me over the slightest things. Sometimes when Baekhyun wasn’t looking, she would kick my leg, step on me or pinch my arm under the table. If I had to guess, I think she didn’t respect me because she knew Baekhyun was paying for me. That’s why I’ve been working a part time job as a piano accompanist at a ballet school. It was an easy job with a reasonable pay, and I only had to be there twice a week. Thanks to that, I had finally saved enough to pay for this month’s lessons. I just didn’t know if Baekhyun would accept it.

Today was a Saturday and I was doing the homework Miss Fei had given us. I’d actually finished everything but I wanted to double check to avoid mistakes. I was scolded for making just one error last week, and if Baekhyun wasn’t there, I thought she might even beat me.

By the time I was done, I was too tired to climb to bed so I’d fallen asleep on the desk. What woke me up was the creaking sound from the door opening. I lifted my head from my folded arms and looked at the door. “Hi Mr Byun,” I greeted, my voice soft and languid. He was dressed casually in a black sweatshirt and pajama pants, his hair tousled like he had just woken up from sleep and rushed here immediately.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun asked, approaching me.

“Chinese homework,” I answered. “Can you help me check if there’s any mistake?”

He stopped behind my chair and bent over to rest his palms on the desk. His chest touched the back of my head as he scanned my workbook. Suddenly I stopped feeling sleepy but hyper aware. Baekhyun leaned closer when he reached for a pencil, and I had a feeling it was deliberate because the thing he was reaching for was just next to my book. I inhaled, feeling warm all over. Baekhyun remained silent as he continued checking my work. “This one–“ he drew a cross next to my wrong answer. “–is supposed to be a wǔ, not wù, they have different meaning, sweetheart, he explained.

I picked up an eraser and wiped it off before making a correction. If he hadn’t caught that, Miss Fei was gonna to go ballistic. I sighed in relief and glanced up from my desk. He was staring down at me. I wore a grateful smile. “Thank you,”

“Welcome,” He whispered, leaning down to drop a kiss on my lips.

“Why are you here, Mr Byun?” I asked when he pulled away.

His brow furrowed. “Do you not know what day it is?”

My eyes flew to the desk calendar, then I glanced up at him again. “Sunday?” I said hesitantly. Baekhyun frowned at me and I started to get anxious. “Did I forget something?”

Baekhyun sighed. “You are really unbelievable,” He mumbled, setting down the pencil before pushing himself off the desk. He clasped my hand and tugged me up to my feet. “I have a surprise for you,” he said as he walked me out of my bedroom.

He led me down the short hallway and as I stepped out into the open plan living room, my eyes widened. There were a combination of white and pink balloons floating on the ceiling, and rose petals scattered on the floor around the couch. Realization dawned when I saw cake on the coffee table along with other props and gift boxes. I was starry-eyed as he walked me there. I finally glanced at him, my eyes blinking in disbelief. “You did this? for me?”

He wears a smile. “Happy Birthday,”

My eyes flew to the grandfather clock. It was half past twelve. The fact that he remembered my birthday was shocking enough, he even came all the way here at midnight to surprise me. “I…” I didn’t know what to say. Thank you didn’t seem enough.

“Have I stolen your ability to speak, sweetheart?” He teased, one side of his lips curling up. I linked my arm around his and hummed. He chuckled at my sudden clinginess. “How could you forget your own birthday?” He questioned as we both lowered ourselves to the couch.

“I haven’t celebrated in a long time…” I replied, a tremble in my voice. My eyes were getting glassy and I had to keep them open so the tears wouldn’t fall. “Thank you for remembering, Mr Byun,”

“I was going to surprise you at twelve o’clock sharp–“ Baekhyun bent over to light up the candles and I used the opportunity to wipe the tears away. “–but I fell asleep. I hope I’m still the first to wish you?” He asked.

That explained the pajamas. And the hair. My heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. I shifted closer and slid my arms around his waist, giving him a side hug. “You are the first,” And the only one.

Baekhyun straightened his back once he was done and I unwrapped my arms around him. He held the cake towards me. “Make a wi–,” his speech halted as I blew the candles out. He raised his brows. “No wishes?”

I shook my head. “I have everything I need,”

Baekhyun regarded me for a while, seemingly confused, but he didn’t make any comment and placed the cake on the table.

I stared up at the balloons on the ceiling. They were so pretty. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done to me,” I said, looking back at him, a smile on my lips. “I appreciate it, Mr Byun,”

“To tell the truth, it’s my first time doing something like this,”

“Oh?” my head tilted in question. “What about your subs, or your ex-girlfriends?”

“I wrote them a cheque as a gift and they loved it,” he said. “But you don’t seem to like money that much, which is still very strange to me,”

“Of course I like money. But only money I earned with my own hard work,” I clarified. “I look for a sugar daddy to help me pay for college, not to live a lavish lifestyle. So...you don’t have to keep spoiling me,”

“Sweetheart, I like how undemanding you are, but buying you gifts isn’t gonna make me poor,” He insisted gently. “Honestly, every time you say no, it makes me wanna do the opposite,”

I gave him a long stare, hoping for some magic to make him listen. But he just shrugged. I sighed, giving up. “It’s gonna be very hard getting you a present because nothing would measure up,” I muttered under my breath.

“Speaking of present,” he said. “I have another surprise for you,” he tugged at my hand. As I followed him, I really wished he didn’t get me something too extravagant. I’ve been keeping count of the money I owed him because I planned to pay him back one day. Counting all the gifts he bought for me, my hair would turn gray by the time I paid off my debt.

“You said you didn’t want me to spend too much on you, so–” He pushed at the sliding door that led to the balcony. At first, I assumed that he had bought me a new plant, but then, I heard a gurgling sound that wasn’t there before, and as I stepped further in, I finally spotted the surprise.

“You got me a fish?” The surprise made my voice sound a little squeaky. Grinning hard, I moved closer to the rectangular fish tank. They were three little gold fishes. I lowered myself into a squat by the tank and Baekhyun crouched on one knee next to me. My finger tapped on the glass lightly and I giggled when they swam towards me, their fins fluttering in the water. I admired them for a while, and when I felt Baekhyun staring at me, I turned to meet his eyes. “This is the best gift so far,”

“You weren’t this happy when I got you that Chanel bag,” he commented. “I’d do this sooner if I knew,”

“Why did you get me a fish though?”

“I thought you might feel lonely when I’m not here,” he told me. “They can be your company,”

Overwhelmed by this thoughtfulness, I let out a groan of frustration. “You need to stop being so perfect, Mr Byun, it makes me wanna kiss you all the time,”

Laughter filled his voice. “And why is that a problem?”

“Because kissing usually leads to sex…and if we keep having sex, my vagina might actually break.”

Baekhyun blew out a huff of laughter, his eyes full of heat with a mix of amusement. ”I wasn‘t thinking about sex at all, but now I am. Thanks to you,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers slid through my hair and he cupped the back of my head. I stopped breathing, my heartbeat accelerating when he leaned in to press his lips on mine. I let my eyelids drop naturally as he kissed me, soft and slow. When he pulled back, we shared the same desire-filled gaze. “We should go inside,” He whispered over my lips, his words an invitation.

I swallowed and smiled, albeit shyly. “We should,” I whispered back.

Baekhyun glanced over at the fish tank for a second, then his eyes reverted to me. “Do you wanna name them first?” He asked. I bobbed my head, and we were silent for a while as we considered their names. “Hm, what about Bubbles?” He suggested.

“Oh that’s nice! Maybe we can call them Bubbles, Blossom and Buttercup?” I proposed. “Since our names also start with a B, I think it’s perfect. What do you think, Mr Byun?”

Baekhyun gave me a soft look and smiled. He probably found it funny that I took this so seriously like I was naming my baby. “Alright, sweetheart,” he agreed.

For the next few minutes, Baekhyun taught me how to care for the goldfishes, like how many times I should feed it daily and how often I should change their water.

We returned to the living room and stored the cake in the fridge for tomorrow. None of us was hungry at the moment.

“I think we should tell Miss Fei to cancel today’s lesson since it’s your birthday,” Baekhyun suggested once we entered my bedroom. He shut the door behind us and stared at me for an answer. Remembering something, I put him on hold as I searched for my purse. This room was too big. Baekhyun took a seat on the edge of my bed and watched me. “What are you looking for?”

Finding my purse under the desk, I lowered myself to the ground and picked up an envelope where I kept my money. I was lifting myself up when Baekhyun reminded me to watch my head. Except it was too late and I’d knocked myself against the roof of the desk. I winced out loud, my hand flying up to rub the pain.

Baekhyun sighed out, shaking his head at my clumsiness. “You’re gonna wind up in the hospital at this rate. Can you please...be more careful?” he reprimanded gently. I flashed him a sorry smile and walked over to him. “Are you okay?” He asked and I answered with a small hum. Despite that, he still observed me closely, probably making sure I was telling the truth.

“I’m okay,” I reassured, climbing into bed and dipped my knee on each side of his thighs. He immediately slid a hand around my back as I lowered myself to sit on his lap, preventing me from falling backward to the ground. “I’ve been saving up,” I told him, holding up the envelope in between our chest. “Here’s this month’s lesson fee,”

He dropped his gaze to the envelope, his brows furrowing. “We’re done arguing about this,” he said firmly.

“Please accept it, Baekhyun,” I pleaded. “I think Ms Fei looks down on me because she knows you’re paying for me,”

He considered me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “How exactly did you come to that conclusion?”

I tried not to read too much into his reaction. Baekhyun was a rational person, he probably needed to hear all the facts before he made a judgement. “For starter, she’s always picking on me over the smallest thing,”

“She’s a teacher, it’s her job to point out your mistakes, but that doesn’t equal hating you, don’t you agree?” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“But–“

“Not everyone is going to coddle you, princess. You’ll never improve that way,”

A sudden wave of anger flared in my chest. Baekhyun and I argued before, but I’ve never gotten worked up like this. I guessed because this situation hit home for me. I could take a scolding, name calling or even a beating, but not when someone doubted my integrity. I slid off his lap and stood on my feet. He stood up and tried to reach for my hands, but I backed away. He frowned and studied me. I stared back at him, my eyes cold.  “I’m not a spoiled girl who needs coddling,” I told him boldly. So unlike me. I wasn't usually the assertive one.

Baekhyun must've agreed because he was speechless for a moment. “That’s not what I said,”

“But that’s what you imply,” I argued.

“If you don’t like Miss Fei, we can always find a new tutor for us.” He persuaded me. “I don’t want us to argue on your birthday,”

I didn’t answer to that. I wanted to tell him about the kicking and the pinching, but I doubt he would believe me. I walked to the other side of the bed to stay as far away as possible from him. I got in bed, pulling the comforter over my body and turning to lay on my side. A few seconds later, Baekhyun appeared kneeling on one knee by the bed, his eyes full of concern as he checked on me. Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop it. "I’m not making up stories like you think I am, Mr Byun,” I said, my voice trembled.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight of my crying, maybe because it was his first time seeing me like this. “I don’t–“ he stopped and sighed, sounding so exhausted all of a sudden. His face was blurry through the tears, but I could still detect the guilt clouding his expression. “Sweetheart, shh,” he shushed and reached over to dab my tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Fei is an old friend of mine, but I should’ve known better. You’re not someone who complains unless something is really bothering you. Had she done something inappropriate to you?”

“I don’t wanna tell you. You’re not gonna believe me.” my words were snippy despite my state. Miss Fei was Baekhyun’s friend of ten years, and I knew him for merely a month. Of course he would trust her more than me.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me right now. But is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

I pulled the cover blanket my head, ignoring him. When he didn’t say anything, it proved that he acknowledged his mistake. Because on a normal day, he wouldn’t appreciate this no-manner attitude from me.

Although I couldn’t blame him for doubting me, that didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt. Dark memories flooded my mind, bringing me back to those tough days when I was still living with my stepmother. She had never believed me when I told her that her boyfriend had been making a move on me. Until it was too late. Well, at least Baekhyun didn’t beat me up like they did. And he apologized. I’d forgiven him, but I didn’t want to speak to him yet. I didn’t care that it was my birthday, the day had never been significant to me anyway.

Author's Note:

hi everyone, it's been a very long while. I updated the 2nd chapter last christmas and in the time i was gone, i was constantly feeling very discouraged and demoralized about my writing. I tried writing story after story but im always worried it isn’t good enough. I've never been confident of myself to begin with, and then with the lack of feedback, I feel even worse. I don't know if I can write any new fics, but I really wanna try completing my ongoing fics hehe thank you for reading this story, i hope this chapter is not that bad, I haven't written for so long. Next chapter is gonna be very fluffy and smutty once the two finally made up! :D and if you like my fic, please show some support by commenting, it's what keeps me going and I really appreciate it! Tell me what you think of this! see you again!

[ohnopoe]

Alone, Together | Din Djarin

Ship: Din Djarin x Reader Summary: Sometimes it’s the strongest people who just need someone to be strong for them. Word Count: 2.2k+ Warnings: Spoilers for the season 2 finale!! Angst. Author’s Note: This was meant to be hurt/comfort... I failed miserably... enjoy your angst and heartache! I also have not proof read this in the slightest... I am lazy and sorry

The silence echoed through the command centre, holding a weight upon your chest that felt akin to drowning. It seemed as though time itself was standing still as you stood there, engulfed in what had just happened, in the anguish that was threatening to creep in.

Of course, you had half expected something like this from the very beginning, it was the plan, after all. Grogu was with his kind now, with a jedi who could train and protect him so much better than you and Din ever could. You’d spent so long trying to convince yourself not to get attached, to enjoy the moments you shared with the curious child with a safe protective layer between you, but that was never really going to work, now, was it?

From the moment you had joined the Mandalorian on the Razor Crest, the duo had captured your heart, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to truly feel apart of the odd little crew. With such a stoic being as Din leading the charge, and a fifty year old child enamoured by his every shiny movement, you had thought it would simply be a job, just another in a long line of careers you had dabbled in throughout the galaxy. But it was so much more.

Looking after Grogu had been so much more than a job, it had been a delight, even in when he was determined to throw a tantrum when you all desperately needed sleep. It wasn’t long before the child became something akin to a friend, albeit a small, incoherent, gnawing on anything that shouldn’t go anywhere near a mouth, friend, but a friend nonetheless.

And somewhere along the line, the Mandalorian followed.

It was in the soft utterances that were barely heard, the gentle actions that weren’t necessary, but were always welcomed with a beaming smile. He wasn’t one for words, but he would show how he cared day by day.

A fruit you enjoyed on a random planet just so happened to be amongst the groceries after you exclaimed your joy upon tasting it. A new pillow was sitting on your bed a few days after he noticed you rubbing your stiff neck in the mornings. And when he found you nervous to be left alone on the Crest on a particularly dangerous planet? Well, suddenly there was time to take a day off to make sure you were comfortable with not only the weapons to defend yourself, but the controls of the Crest should you need to get yourself and the child out of there.

Yes, somewhere along the line, you had forged something of a friendship with the very same man who had unintentionally frightened you silent upon your first meeting. And if at some point your feelings for him had started to slip to something less platonic, well, that was neither here nor there.

Especially now, as you stood by his side in that same pained silence that still echoed through the Imperial ship.

Now, he needed a friend.

His helmet had been removed for the child, he had destroyed his creed, and, as tempting as it might have been, you had kept your gaze firmly on the ground the entire time, determined to respect his beliefs right down to the end.

The pain and anguish you felt at the sight of those gigantic sad eyes as Grogu had left was incomparable, but, even in your pain, you knew it was nothing compared to the hurt the Mandalorian at your side must be feeling.

There were too many in the room, battle hardened warriors each one of them, and you knew words of comfort or sympathy would do little at such a time, so you did the only thing you could think of.

With your gaze still firmly fixated on the floor, you pushed the pain aside, something to be addressed later, when you were alone, when you didn’t have to be the rock for the same man who had unknowingly been the same for you time after time in his own resilient manner.

Your hand barely moved, slow and subtle as you reached across the small distance to him. Unhurried, gentle, as if trying not to scare a wild animal, your fingers found his, curling into his hold in a silent show of camaraderie that had the heartbroken man turning his head towards you.

With your gaze still focused on the floor at your feet, you didn’t see the way those deep brown eyes took you in, savouring the sight, awed by the way you remained diligently refusing to glance his way. You didn’t see the years of pain and heartbreak that swam in that tear stung gaze, didn’t see the anguish that flittered there, fighting against an unwavering affection for you that seemed to have made its home there long ago.

But you did feel the way his hand clasped around yours, large and warm, even through the leather of his gloves. It practically engulfed your own hand, and yet, the desperate hold almost made it seem small, uncertain, as if this one action, your hand in his, was the only thing keeping him together as his world fell apart once more.

Time that had moved so slowly seemed to suddenly fly into overdrive. Boba was back to pick up Fennec, Bo was, begrudgingly, focusing on what could be salvaged from the Imperial ship, Cara was setting off with Gideon, and, while you certainly seemed to be taking in whatever was thrown your way, it still felt a world away.

A decision had to be made, and before you knew it you were walking behind Cara and her new prisoner, still hand in hand with the Mandalorian who hadn’t dared let go of your hand since the moment you had offered it.

Somewhere along the way you had made it clear that you would remain with the Mandalorian, no matter what was to come, although you weren’t entirely certain the words had ever actually been spoken aloud. But any alternative was practically laughable. How could you possibly leave him now? How could you ever?

And then you were on the ship, when had that happened? And Gideon had been silenced once more with a hasty gag that was a desperate plea for what little sanity your little trio had left to not run astray (and possibly to keep Cara from killing him before she could make it to the New Republic). And then? Well, then was now wasn’t it? Alone in the cramped personal quarters of the shuttle, truly alone for the first time in weeks.

There was a time when being alone felt rejuvenating, refreshing even. The quiet solitude a haven from the chaos of so many busy planets, of so many people. When had that changed?

With a sad smile, you almost scoffed at the question the moment it flittered into your mind. You knew damn well when.

Silence had never lasted all that long on the Crest, no matter how tired you and Din might have been, the little green eared monster was determined to run amok, causing a clamouring of sounds in his wake. It was so easy to find it irritating when you were woken from only two hours of blissful sleep after days of being forced awake. It was easy to sigh and grapple with the playful child and remind him that this was sleep time, not play time, and if he wasn’t going to get some rest he had to at least let you get some.

But now, in the eerie silence of the Imperial shuttle you had commandeered in an effort to save the frog eating little bugger, you longed for those sounds. The chaos and cacophony of Grogu was a part of what had become your home, and now, yet another part of it was gone forever.

You couldn’t say when the tears had begun, or when they had slipped from silent streams to harsh sobs that wrecked their way through your body. But, curled up on the militantly neat bunk bed you had claimed as your own, you couldn’t have cared less.

Finally, you were alone, after hours of planning and debating, hours of being the solid rock for the man you had come to care so deeply for. Now was your chance to grieve everything you had lost, in the solitude of the clinically white cube someone had deigned appropriate to be a bedroom.

Visions of green ears and large eyes swam through your mind, memories entangled with daydreams as you thought about what had been, and what was to come for the small child you had grown to love.

But he was gone now, along with the Razor Crest that had become your home, although, thankfully, in a much less dramatic fashion.

Would that just be the way for all the things you loved? Would the same soon follow for Din?

A sound, far harsher than a sob, rattled its way from your chest at the thought. Surely he would be the next to leave, returning to his old life or helping rebuild Mandalore… either way, he no longer had a need for you now, did he? What use would he have for a glorified babysitter with no baby?

The sound of your tears would have been harrowing, were it not for the safety of those Imperial walls that surrounded you. Sobs and groans slipped from one to another as your tears soaked the stark white pillow beneath you. Curled up into the smallest ball you could manage, you let go.

That pain you’d pushed away earlier? Well, it was back, tenfold.

This was why you had never meant to get attached, this, right here, the aching hole that wanted to consume you, yet seemed to echo out from your very chest. It was a pain like no other, grief mixed with fear, sorrow mixed with a loneliness you could never put into words. A profound war of emotions that had your body shaken, and your mind so lost in its anguish, that you didn’t even hear the way the doors slid open, or the heartbroken sigh that followed.

Din was used to being alone. Even with you and Grogu aboard the Razor Crest with him, he would often find himself focused on a job while you distracted the little womp rat in the hull. It was just a part of life, until it wasn’t. Until he found himself working down there alongside you, until he found himself seeking out the joyful sounds of you playing with the child who was somehow older than either of you.

But even still, he was used to your absence, no matter how desperately he wished he weren’t.

So, as much as he desperately wanted to follow you when you claimed to need some rest, no matter how much he wanted to cling to your hand, to the intense amount of comfort such a small gesture had given him, he had let you go.

But that was nearly an hour ago now, and he couldn’t bare it any longer, and a small part of him hoped beyond all things that maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t either.

As the door slid open, and the broken sound of your tears perforated the air, a small sliver of what was left of his heart broke.

You had been so strong, had remained diligent and determined, had been the support he could never ask for, but desperately needed in his dark hour, and here you were, breaking apart alone.

It wasn’t until the harsh mattress beneath you shifted that you even realised you were no longer alone. Turning quickly, panicked and wide eyed, you gazed through blurry eyes at the foreign site before you.

Din still had all his armour in place, his helmet having returned to his head long ago, but his very being looked so different. It was in the way he stooped forwards, his elbows balanced on his knees as if the weight of the world was quite literally weighing him down. It was in the way his head hung low, but still faced you determinedly, as though he couldn’t decide what was worse, watching your broken wails, or turning away from them.

A harsh intake of breath. A desperate rub of your sleeve against your eyes in some plea that it might somehow make you look somewhat put together. You couldn’t meet his gaze, even behind the wall of his visor, but you would do what you had to in order to try and appear composed.

But he was shaking his head, slowly, reassuringly. You couldn’t be certain he was even aware of his actions as his hand found your leg, squeezing gently.

“Don’t,” his voice sounded harsher than usual, as if it had been filtered through sandpaper on its way through his helmet, and the rough sound had him pausing once more, as if startled to hear his own voice.

But he persisted nonetheless, pushing past the way his throat felt dry, past the ache each word brought forward.

“It’s ok to cry,” his voice was quieter now, an attempt at softness even through the pain he felt. “You don’t need to hold it in, not for me, not for anyone.”

[333dolans]

If By Chance Pt. 2 // E.D

Part 1

Summary: It’s been 2 years since she’d last seen him, what would happen if by chance they were to meet once more?

Sorry for being gone for so long! Ive been super busy and just haven’t had any time to write. I’ll hopefully post a bit more regularly this year! I love you all mwah!!🥰

4:35pm, Great.

It was the first time she would be seeing Gray in what felt like eternity and she was already late, Classic Rory. In her defence, he had agreed to pick her up but a meeting running over later than expected meant she was left to fend for herself. The fact that she didn’t know her way around LA yet paired along with her general lack of time management left her here, outside of the adorable, little cafe Gray had sent her the address for.

She felt the explosion of butterflies erupt within her stomach at the sight of his car and pulled in next to it. She took a moment to compose her thoughts that seemed to be racing along with her heart. Taking a final deep breath, she climbed out from her car and made a start towards the cafe door.

From the very moment she laid her eyes on his tall figure, nothing could of slowed the pace she ran towards him. She called out his name and as he glanced up from his phone, the widest smile took over his face. Opening up his arms just in time, he caught her in his warm embrace. It felt good to be home.

“I missed you so much.” He sighed contently, spinning her around one more time before placing her body back firmly on the ground.

“Missed you more Grapeson.” She replied with a smirk.

“Wow... that’s gotta be a record, we’ve been together what? One whole minute and you’ve already said it.” He rolled his eyes, coaxing a giggle from Rory.

“I said we were bringing it back my love and i meant it!” She grinned smugly up at him before grabbing his hand and leading them into the coffee shop. As the little bell chimed, they were greeted by an older woman who beamed their way.

“Hello Grayson! Your usual i assume? And what can i get for you sweetheart?” She asked with a warm smile.

“Ill go get us a table, i know the best seats.” Grayson told her before wondering off to a far corner in the store.

“Ill get a hot chocolate please.” She replied graciously with a shy smile and the woman was quick to get started on the order.

“I’m Genevieve by the way but you my dear, can call me Gen! You know Grayson never mentioned he had a girlfriend, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” She began to make small talk as she poured Grayson’s coffee into its cup. Rory choked on air at gen’s words, gaping at her in shock.

“Were- were not together, just good friends.” She said with a deep blush.

“Oh my bad! You two would make a beautiful couple if i might say.”

Rory couldn’t help but smile at Gen’s bluntness, she loved her already. After some more casual conversation, Rory said her thank you to Gen and headed off toward the table Grayson had saved, gently placing their drinks on the tabletop before sliding into the booth seat. These seats in particular looked out onto a beautiful landscape and Rory couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she sank lower into the leather of the seat, this day couldn’t have gone any better. Nothing had changed between her and gray and she couldn’t be more thankful.

The two sat and talked for hours as the sun began to set on the city that awaited them just outside of the window. They filled each other in on everything and anything they could think of, from childhood memories to the launch of wakeheart. It was inevitable really, that they would eventually end up on the topic of a certain twin brother. No matter how much Rory had tried to change the subject, he always found a way back into the conversation, she knew shed have to face the music someday anyway, may as well bite the bullet sooner rather than later.

“He misses you, you know? He may be an absolute idiot and too damn stubborn to ever admit it but i know that he does. He still reads through your old messages and looks at old photos. He still checks your socials every now and then, I’ve seen him.”

Rory sighed with a small shake of her head.

“Gray, he dropped me remember? No one told him he had to do that, he got a girlfriend and she became more important. That’s life i guess and I’ve dealt with that knowledge for years now. He prioritised her over me and that’s on him.” She let her gaze drift from his face to the window beside her, now littered with stray raindrops from the light drizzle that had began.

She allowed herself to breathe deeply, basking in the feelings that a crisp fall breeze always managed to stir within her. God, did she love autumn. Nothing could compare to the sight of the leaves changing to colours of fire and passion before her very eyes. Along with the colder weather came rainy days, and with rainy days? Time she could spend huddled up in front of a window reading whatever book she’d chosen for that week. Everyone who has ever known Rory, would know full well she would would be half way through that book within the space of a few hours.

Something about the rain had always enticed her, she felt a strange comfort within the damp weather that left most people feeling miserable. She thrived in it, wanting nothing more than to cozy up in fluffy socks and warm layers of clothes and watch droplets race along the panes of the nearest window.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Slightly startled from his sudden appearance, she beckoned her breathing to calm down to a steady pace once again. She allowed her eyes to trail up his tall frame, soaking him in as much as she could. There stood Ethan in all his glory along with a piping hot mug of her favourite, hot chocolate. Rory was never much of a coffee drinker, always having a sweet tooth and preferring the chocolatey taste to the bitterness a cup of coffee would leave in her mouth for hours. Besides, no one likes coffee breath. She allowed her gaze to retreat back to its fixed spot, staring out into the forest that lined the perimeter of the Dolan’s backyard.

“Then I hate to break it to you E but you’ll be short of quite a few pennies by the time you’ve heard all of the thoughts that are running around my mind right now.”

She allowed a defeated sigh to slip past her lips, filling the silence that had fallen between the two. It was true, her mind had been all over the place ever since the moment the twins had told her of their plan to pursue a career in Los Angeles. She felt like her world was collapsing in on her and in a way, it was. Her whole life as she knew it consisted of Ethan and Grayson Dolan, she had spent practically everyday with the pair for as long as she could remember and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that chapter of her life to be over.

“A hot chocolate instead? Please Rory, talk to me. I know this is going to be a big change for you, but it is for me and Grayson too yeah? Were all going to be feeling the same emotions in the next few weeks, we have to be there for each other and I can’t do that if you wont open up to me.”

Sliding down opposite her small frame on the cold hardwood floor of his childhood home, Ethan couldn’t help but become overwhelmed by his emotions. This had been his home for many years, it contained so many memories. These very walls had been witness to the life of the three best friends and the idea of leaving this part of his life behind, leaving his best friend behind? It tore Ethan to pieces but he was also optimistic for this exciting new chapter. He tried to remain positive and think of the new adventures they will get to have in the city of angels. The memories he can make with the ones he holds closest.

“Everything is changing E. I don’t think I’m ready to move on from this, I don’t want to be left behind again. I’m going to be so alone here, you guys are the only real friends I have. I don’t want to lose you, or Grayson.”

A stray tear made it’s way down her cheek as the rain continued outside. She looked up to meet the eyes of her best friend, the boy she’d always love. His hand reached out for hers and clasped it tightly in his own. She saw a flash of hope flash across his beautiful brown eyes that she adored so much.

“You could come with us you know? There’s a spare room in the apartment and you know I...we would love to have you there with us. We could go on so many adventures and explore California and we could-“

“E, as wonderful as that sounds, you know my mom would never let me just drop everything and go. What about school? College? You know what she expects of me. I really wish it was that simple.”

In that moment, Rory swore she saw a small piece of Ethan’s heart break away before her very eyes. She forced her tears back, choking slightly from the lack of air that seemed to be escaping her lungs. Why did this have to be so hard? Ethan paused for what felt like eternity before speaking once more.

“I’m going to miss you so much my little lion, so fucking much.”

He outstretched his arms, his warm embrace calling her name. She crawled over to him, closing the small gap that was between them. She clung to his torso as he stroked his fingers through her hair soothingly.

“Nothing is going to change between us Rory, absolutely nothing.”

“Why don’t you come back to our place? I’m not ready to say goodbye yet anyway and I know he’d love to see you. Please, just for a little while?” Gray’s words snapped her back from her reminiscing. He looked into her eyes with such hope, she just couldn’t say no to him.

“God damn those puppy eyes” she cursed under her breath, causing a smirk from Grayson who sat opposite her with a triumphant look on his face.

“I better not regret this Dolan.”

Tags: @rhyrhy462 @evergreendolan @dolansficsandpics @fangdolan @livexdolan @blindedbythelightt @baby-grayson @prettyboydolan @delightfuldolan @sosweetgrethan @episkygrant @resilientdolan @pineappledols @vinylhazza @hydrograyson @velvetdolan @baby-turtles @szadolans @cutestdolans @brockdolan @mercurygrant @abstractstardiva @guiltydols @blazedgraysons @blackpinkdolan @vintagedolan @babeygray @babey-gray @dolanpornhub @onlyyyariii @voidmalfoy @glossydols @graysonsdolansbabygirl @spideysimpossiblegirl @lovingdolans @bubsdolan @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @dolansbeanies @graydolan12 @dolantissue @thecharlietomygillespie @dolandolll @boujeeethan @softethan @risedols @evreths @everydaydolan

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 9

you're not normal.

Lunch with the scouts goes just about as planned, awkward. A meeting with Erwin leaves you feeling fearful of tomorrow.(AO3)

Words: 1,836

As the comfort of sleep faded away, regretfully you opened your eyes and sat up on your bed. You stretched your weary muscles and groaned at the popping sounds your bones made with the movement. You lazily patted your hair back into its usual form before straightening out your clothes and opening your door. Just as you did you were met with Levi’s irritated glare.

“That’s the last time I go without locking your door.” He said before sighing and walking off. You followed without a word, too sleepy to reply to the man.

“You will sit at the same table as Hange, the other superiors and I. Don’t speak unless spoken to, if you do good today this can be regular. If any scouts come up to you, ignore them. It’ll be hard because those brats are chatty, don’t answer any of their questions. Got it?” He rattled off. Right now, he was seeming like more of the chatty type, more than usual you suppose. However, it's to be expected you imagined. He’s giving you a lot of trust allowing you to eat with everyone as if you were normal. You were thankful but that can go without saying.

“I got it.” You replied, within the next few steps the two of you were standing in front of the canteen you had cleaned just hours before. Suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious your stomach sank. You hadn’t been in a social setting like this since you’ve been human again, to be honest you were scared. No one was expecting you to speak though but you knew all eyes would be glued to the back of your head as soon as you entered. It was nerve wracking.

“Stand up straight...” He snapped before opening the door an walking inside, leaving you to trail after him like a lost puppy. Just as you hypothesized, the once loud and rambunctious canteen had fell silent. Silent save for Hange still tittering off about one sciencey thing or another to the other men at their table, that made it less awkward for you but you couldn’t help but feel a few beads of cold sweat forming at your brow.

Levi cleared his throat dramatically to grab your attention toward the meal tray he had already filled with your lunch for the day, boiled potato and soup again. With that the two of you made your way towards Hange and sat down, you next to them and Levi across. The men at the table, Mike and Moblit, eyed you over in acknowledgement before properly greeting Levi. You gave them a curt nod and lifted your fork to take a bite of your food. Hange roughly hooked an arm around your shoulder before loudly bringing you into the conversation.

“Moblit! This is the one I’ve been talking about! Y/N! Hi!” You winced at their volume and a shy blush warms your cheeks, as if all the attention in the room wasn’t already on your neck, it surely was now. You could hear your name floating about the room as people began talking about you.

“Y/N huh?”

“She’s that titan?”

“Is it safe having her here?”

“I’m sure they know what they’re doing...”

“You think she’s like Annie––”

“Don’t mention that one!!”

That last part greatly disturbed you, but you decided to ignore the voices around you and just focus on the people at your table and your food. Levi looked at you over the top of his tea cup, reading your worried expression carefully. Setting his cup down gently he addressed Hange sternly.

“Shitty glasses... Keep your voice down you’re giving me a headache.”

Hange being as intelligent as they are quickly realized Levi said that more for your sake than his made-up migraine. Hange gave a short glance your way before quickly giving you a squeeze and lowering their voice as told. Instantly a bit of your anxiety ebbed away though the gossip didn’t die down much.

The rest of the lunch period went without much incident, Hange did well to distract you from the background chatter and made you feel normal. Moblit was a sweet fellow, the only person you imagine could handle Hange on 100% at all times, Mike was quiet but from time to time he would chuckle at the commentary. Levi remained stoic and unchanging, sipping his perfectly brewed black tea, and picking away at his meal. It was a nice change in pace in contrast to eating alone in your room with your nose in a book.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a boy you recognized instantly came stumbling up towards Levi. His large teal eyes staring into yours. However, this time, two others followed after him. A taller girl with brilliant black hair and a soft red scarf over her shoulders, and a timid looking blonde boy with even bigger baby blue eyes.

Without taking his eyes off of his plate Levi addressed the three scouts coldly.

“And what do you brats want?” His voice made the blonde jump, and to make him feel a little less on edge you returned your gaze back to Hange and Moblit, watching the two interact and trying to ignore the scouts and whatever they needed to give them a semblance of privacy.

“C-captain, we were just wondering-–” Eren was interrupted by Levi speaking over him.

“If you’re wondering anything about Y/N, its none of your business for now. Dismissed.” With the mention of your name, you jumped a bit and your shocked yet confused eyes met Levi’s even and dark ones.

“It's dangerous having a titan at the base with Eren. What if she’s after him like Annie was?” The girl responded, she had a confidence about her that told you she was strong and not to be trifled with. Almost on par with Levi, however, she lacked the outward intimidation.

“Do you think I can’t do my job, Mikasa?”

“But for Eren–”

“Do you think I can’t do my job?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then you’re dismissed.” Levi ended the conversation once again with a tone of finality. After a moment of tense silence, the three of them walked off as the blonde pulled tirelessly on their sleeves away from the table.

“Also, the three of you have kitchen duty for the week.” Levi called after them, you could hear the three kids bickering amongst each other as they got back to their table. Eren and some taller boy teasing one another as soon as he sat down.

You looked back to Levi but he was already standing from his seat, taking your tray and his to be disposed of. Before he could make it back to the table the door of the canteen opened, you couldn’t see who was on the other side but Levi went to them quickly.

He was gone for just a few minutes before Erwin stepped through the door. Everyone stood and saluted to him, and you felt awkward for sitting.

“At ease.” He said, everybody retook their seats as his eyes scanned the crowd for yours. He gave you a small smile before he spoke again.

“Y/N, come with me.” Your eyes widened just a fraction before darting towards Hange, they nudged you and waved you off.

“See you later Y/N!” With that, you stumbled towards Erwin and he opened the door for you. Outside you were met with Levi and the three of you walked towards what you imagined to be Erwin’s office at the base.

You were nervous, they must have decided what to do with you. Or maybe they want to conduct another interview now that you could talk, but you don’t remember anything new yet. Anxiety pricked at your skin; you weren’t prepared to be berated with questions.

What if, because of your lack of memory they thought you were lying? What if they didn’t trust you? What if–

“Go inside.” Levi said, ripping you from the cloud of your invasive thoughts. You stepped inside the office and took a seat, Levi remined standing by the door. The large wooden desk was decorated with a name plate reading Erwin Smith.

The man in question cleared his throat before shuffling a few documents before him and addressing you.

“Y/N...”

...

Experiments? Are they serious?

“I can see the distress on your face. I assure you; the experiments will be nothing invasive, and all led by Hange and Moblit.” Still, you were unsure about the prospects of being tested on like some animal to the slaughter. Your lack of response urged Erwin to continue explaining.

“We need to test your titan abilities, if you can shift like the other titan shifters we’ve encountered. What are your strengths, are you a unique case? Things of that nature, and if we’re to trust you to the best of our ability, we need to know these things. I’d like to ask for your consent, however, if you’re to stay with us there is no other way, I’m afraid.” He rested his chin atop his clasped fists and we patiently awaited your reply.

Levi however, was never one for such pleasantries, and gave you no extra time to think it over before he spoke.

“If you don’t want to stay, we can always drop you off outside the walls and watch you fend for yourself against your friends out there.” He commented, pointing his thumb out towards the windows. The thought unnerved you, and you wouldn’t put it passed him to stay true to his word.

With a defeated sigh you gave the men your answer.

“I’ll do anything. I can’t lie I’m afraid, I don’t want to be a titan anymore. I don’t want to be a shifter. This is all so confusing but I’ll do what I have to to gain your trust.”

“Well then that settles it. We’ll start tomorrow.” Levi said, quickly heading out the door and leaving you and Erwin alone. Your shoulders dropped; this was all so sudden but you could understand their dilemma. They needed to have answers and quick, you’ve already been here for quite some time inconveniencing them with your silence and memory loss. This is the least you can do.

It’ll give you the answers you’ve been hoping for yourself, can you even turn again? You prayed to whatever god that was listening that you didn’t have the ability to shift. You signed your name on the pages that Erwin slid across to you.

He gave a knowing smile, before dismissing you. When you exited, Levi was there waiting to lead you back to your room. The walk back was silent as expected, and when you entered your room he lingered in the doorway before speaking.

“Rest up. I’ll bring your dinner here later.” You nodded weakly before falling over into your pillow. He stayed just a second longer before you heard the soft click of the door shutting, and the quiet jingle of his keys locking you inside.

The uncertainty of tomorrow scared you.

[fallinnflower]

perfect

s.coups x reader (fluff, part of the intimacy anthology project)

a/n: this fic is technically gender neutral but ends up leaning more towards being a fem!reader, mostly because it’s based loosely on my insecurities, just so y’all know!

warning: mentions of scars, anxiety, and implied mature content

For your entire life, you'd struggled with the idea of how people saw you. 

When you were younger, people used to say you were pretty — but those same people criticized your every flaw. Once you became a teenager, especially, and acne became the new normal for your skin, even your parents didn't hesitate to point out the problems with you. It didn't take long for those problems to become all you could see, both when you looked in the mirror or just when you happened to let skin show. 

Wearing makeup became necessary. But then blemishes began appearing on your back, and arms, and legs — and when they disappeared they left scars behind which were just as embarrassing, if not more so. 

Simultaneously you were asked why you didn't think you were beautiful, and why your skin was so bad. Soon, baring your skin in even the most minimal ways felt like a struggle. 

The thing is, you'd been seeing yourself imperfectly and scarred for so long that you had no perception of what other people may have seen in you. Did they look at you and only see flaws? 

And, as most personal, introspective issues go, it affected your love life. 

Being intimate was hard when you didn't want anyone to see you. When you had scars someone might feel when their hands were on your skin. 

You'd had significant others in the past, some of which had pointed out your flaws to you, and very few of which you had managed to express your insecurities to. It always felt simultaneously too heavy and too petty to bring up to your partners, so you'd simply turn off the lights and opt to ignore your problems for as long as possible. 

But nothing could stay hidden forever. 

You'd been dating Seungcheol for well over two months when he finally expressed his desire to have you stay the night. Your journey from strangers to significant others had been something of a whirlwind, but the two of you had opted to take things slow once labels were involved. 

He was a perfect boyfriend, a wholesome mix of responsible gentleman and soft baby that fit inexplicably well into your life. Any time you have him was enough, and any hesitation you showed was a boundary he respected. 

For the past week, he'd been dropping hints that he wanted you to spend the night at his place after your typically Friday evening dates, and each time he did you found yourself freezing up. Seungcheol has never even seen you without makeup on, and while the thought of spending an evening with him was heavenly, the thought of him waking up beside an imperfect version of yourself was terrifying. 

To you, Seungcheol seemed perfect. With his pretty doe eyes and his sweet smile and plump lips, it was almost hard to believe a person like him existed in the real world. 

It made it all the more difficult for you to willingly bare yourself to him, in even the most minor ways. So for a solid week you dodged every hint he tried to drop as if they were bombs, desperate to hold onto this perfect facade for just a little bit longer, like clinging desperately to the last moments of a sweet dream in the morning light. 

But Friday dawned nonetheless, and all through work all you could think about was how Seungcheol — sweet, handsome, considerate, perfect Seungcheol — would be waiting for you when you clocked out to take you to dinner. The mix of excitement and nervousness left you feeling giddy all day long, constantly getting up for more water or just to stretch your legs, unable to focus. How could you, when you hadn't seen him for a week?

How could you, when you were constantly trying to avoid the elephant that seemed to follow you into every room you entered? 

Ten minutes before 5pm, you shed your blazer and went into the bathroom to fix your hair and makeup. You'd worn a simple black dress to work and shoved some more playful looking accessories into your bag that morning to spice up the look. Over the course of your career you'd learned how to go from corporate daytime to date night look with minimal changes quite expertly. 

As you were fixing the clasp of your necklace, your phone buzzed on the countertop. 

< waiting downstairs. no rush ☺️

You couldn't keep the smile off your face as you read Seungcheol's message. Even though he said not to rush, you still found yourself fixing the last strands of your hair that had slipped out of place and gathering your belongings from your desk at record speed. 

"Have fun!" Your desk neighbor, Wendy, called after you. You tossed her a smile over your shoulder as you stepped into the elevator. On the short ride down, you couldn't help but bounce slightly, trying to expel some more of your nervous energy so you didn't just go sprinting straight into your boyfriend's arms. 

It didn't work. The moment you caught sight of Seungcheol in the lobby, you couldn't seem to keep yourself walking at a normal pace — especially not when he caught sight of you and sent you that gummy smile of his, opening his arms in welcome. 

His embrace was warm, and he pressed a welcoming kiss to the crown of your head before nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

"Hey," he murmured, and you giggled softly as you pulled back. 

"Hey," you replied, eyes meeting his. He leaned down to press a quick, chaste kiss to your lips, but even that left you a blushing mess considering you were still in your office building. 

"Cheol," you whined, but your boyfriend only chuckled and gently took your bag and blazer from you, offering his other hand for you to hold. You took it, although you continued to pout as he lead you out the door. 

Once you'd both settled into the car, your extra things relegated to the backseat, you finally turned a curious gaze to him. 

"So, what have you got planned?" The corners of Seungcheol's mouth immediately began to curl up into a grin, but he only glanced coolly at you before pulling away from the curb. 

"It's a surprise."

"Still?" you asked, turning your body in your seat to face him. "We'll be there soon — why can't you just tell me?" 

If anyone had told you even a few months ago that you'd be acting cutesy for your boyfriend, you'd probably have punched them. You'd never been the type to do aegyo unbidden, and yet your boyfriend seemed to bring it out in you without even trying. Usually he couldn't say no to your cuteness and vice versa, but this time he merely chuckled and placed a hand on your thigh just above your knee, giving it a squeeze. 

"Patience, babe. Good things come to those who wait, you know," he teased, and you frowned. 

"But I've been waiting all week."

"And in a few more minutes all that waiting will be worth it." As he rolled to a stop at a red light, he turned his gaze on you, hand still lingering on your leg. When his dark, intense gaze met yours, your throat seemed to go dry, the places where his skin met yours suddenly feeling fiery hot. 

"You trust me, don't you?" You let out a defeated sigh and nodded. Seungcheol laughed again, eyes curving up into happy crescents as he gave your thigh another squeeze. 

"Good girl," he said, softly, and although you rolled your eyes you found yourself acutely aware of the way his fingers gently brushed against your inner thigh before he removed his hand. 

His actions quieted you down until you reached your destination. Your thoughts (and gaze) continued to drift back to him and his hands, swallowing hard. Since you and Seungcheol were taking things slow, you hadn't really been intimate — you'd had some heated make out sessions, but nothing below the belt so to speak — but that didn't mean you didn't want to be. If anything, it was actually starting to make you want it more. 

Which was probably why you were so adamantly dodging any conversations about staying the night. If Seungcheol outright asked, you knew you'd probably say yes — and you didn't feel ready for the disappointment and shame you'd feel when he saw the real you. All your flaws and ugly parts that couldn't be hidden… How could any person as beautiful as him possibly see you as anything but the complete opposite? 

Your downtrodden train of thought was interrupted by Seungcheol putting the car in park. When you looked out the window, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Recognize it?” Seungcheol asked playfully. You could tell without even looking at him that he was excited about this particular plan. And you knew why, barely able to tear your eyes away from the location long enough to thank him for holding the car door open for you.

“Of course,” you replied, taking hold of the hand he offered you. “This is where we had our first date.” You leaned into Seungcheol’s side. Your first date had consisted mostly of a long walk and dinner, which hadn’t really been planned. The two of you had simply spent so much of the day together that you found yourselves in need of a meal, and had ducked into the restaurant on a whim.

It had been nearing the end of winter then, but still cold — too cold for the outdoor seating to be open, which was unfortunate because all the online reviews you had seen raved about it. That space was at the back of the building, a rooftop terrace with a supposedly perfect view of the city. Looking at the space now, you could see the faint glow of strung-up lights down at the end of the alley between it and the neighboring building. 

“Want to guess what the surprise is?” he asked, voice low and soft, like it was a secret for your ears only. 

“Hm,” you hummed, tapping a finger against your chin, looking up at him as he grinned expectantly down at you. “We’re going to eat on the terrace?” His smile widened, his eyes nearly closing from its broadness. 

Suddenly, the door to the restaurant opened, and one of the hosts peered curiously at the two of you. His face lit up when he noticed Seungcheol, and he quickly opened the door the rest of the way, beckoning you in,

“Mr. Choi, welcome. Right this way!” The two of you followed after him, giddy with excitement. He led you both to the back of the restaurant and up a staircase, away from the noise and crowd of the main dining room.

On the table with the best view of the city there was already a bottle of the same wine the two of you had had on your first date, and Seungcheol darted past the host to pull your chair out for you — just like he had done that night. You couldn’t help but giggle as the host took a polite step back, telling you your waiter would be with you shortly before disappearing.

As you looked around the terrace, with its twinkling golden lights and stunning view, you couldn’t help but notice that it was otherwise empty despite it being prime time, with the sunset only minutes away and the weather perfectly comfortable. You kept your gaze on the city as Seungcheol took his seat.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you said. “I’m surprised it isn’t more busy.” When you looked back at your boyfriend he seemed to be blushing slightly, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“About that,” he said, looking up at you through his lashes. “I managed to get the whole patio reserved, just for us.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. Seungcheol let out a sheepish chuckle, and you reached across the table to take one of his hands in your own; he met you halfway, his nervousness melting away before your eyes. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Like it? Cheol, I love it. It’s amazing.” All the tension left his shoulders as he sighed, smiling across the table at you in relief. His dark eyes reflected the fairy lights strung up around you, making them look like shards of the night sky as he gazed at you.

“It’s what you deserve,” he said. His tender expression warmed your heart, but before you could think of anything to say to express how you felt, the waiter suddenly appeared on the terrace with menus in hand.

“I was going to order ahead and fully recreate the first date,” Seungcheol whispered, leaning across the table as the waiter set the menus down. “But I remembered you said a lot of the things on the menu looked good, so I thought we could try something new.” You let go of his hand to take hold of your menu, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” 

“I definitely tried,” he chuckled. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you looked over your options, occasionally mentioning what sounded good to you until you both finally settled on your meals. You made sure to get different things so you could each sample each other’s meal — something which had become a regular part of your relationship.

As soon as the waiter had finished taking your orders and gone back downstairs, Seungcheol propped his chin in his hands and flashed you a cheeky smile.

“So,” he said. “What do you do for a living, Y/N?” You nearly choked on your water trying not to laugh at him, which quickly caused his innocent act to crumble.

“You already knew that on our first date,” you retorted, glaring playfully at him. He let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in his seat. You let your gaze trail down the column of his throat as he threw his head back in mock exasperation.

“I know. Do you have any idea how hard it was to think of what to say to you? I was so nervous.” 

“You? Nervous?” you teased, taking a sip of your wine. Thinking back, you couldn’t recall a single time Seungcheol seemed to be at a loss for words with you — even when he was nervous, he could think of something to say. However, now he met your playful look with a serious one, though he was still smiling.

“Well, yeah,” he said, his dark gaze seeming to pin you in place as you set your wine glass down; you couldn’t even think of looking away. “Why wouldn’t I be nervous going on a date with someone as beautiful as you?” 

You smiled, feeling genuinely touched by his words — though it didn’t take long for your anxieties to flare back up with the direction the conversation was going. Hurriedly, you took another gulp of wine, hoping he didn’t notice the sudden, slight tremor in your hands.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you said. Then, after managing to soften your expression and calm yourself down a bit. “But good food always will.” Seungcheol laughed and lifted his glass to clink against yours. However, as he lowered his glass down to his lips, he hesitated. You raised a questioning brow, hesitating as well.

“What are we toasting to?” Seungcheol asked, wine glass still poised near his lips. 

“I don’t know,” you replied, scrunching up your nose. “To us?” 

You had half-expected Seungcheol to laugh your suggestion off, but instead his gummy smile reappeared, eyes practically glittering as they met yours across the table. He lifted the wine glass again slightly.

“To us,” he repeated, voice low and soft as velvet. You felt your cheeks warm as you both took a sip of your wine, and wondered if the alcohol was already hitting you or if Seungcheol had just managed to start affecting you that much.

Remembering what had occurred in the car, you felt your face grow hotter and took another sip of the wine, not quite ready to admit the truth of the situation even to yourself.

The rest of your dinner went off without a hitch. Seungcheol had managed to rope the waiter into taking a few photos of the two of you with the setting sun as your backdrop. Even though you had felt a bit embarrassed on the waiter’s behalf, you had to admit that the photos turned out beautifully — and it was just nice to have them. Most of your photos with Seungcheol were selfies. 

Both of you left the restaurant in high spirits, filled with wine and good food. You had loosened up considerably after your silly toasting situation, and by the time the two of you had descended the stairs to get back in the car your cheeks hurt from smiling so much; your boyfriend seemed to be in a similar predicament, reaching for your hand and kissing the back of it. The two of you stepped onto the sidewalk laughing over something that had been said over the course of the evening.

However, the moment Seungcheol sat down in the driver's seat, he seemed to become tense. And in response, you found yourself tensing up, too. He buckled himself in and placed his hands on the wheel, but didn't move to shift the car out of park, merely sitting for a moment. You watched as he lightly drummed his fingers against the top of the wheel, only pulling your eyes away when he drew his hands back. 

"Okay," he started, letting out a long breath. He unbuckled again and turned his body towards you. "I was kind of hinting at this all week and I don't know if you didn't notice, but, I really want you to spend the night. And if you don't want to, I'll drive you home right now, but— but I have an extra toothbrush because I bought a two-pack and you can borrow my clothes if you want, and my friend taught me this great pancake recipe—" Suddenly, he stopped himself short, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You felt as though the whole world outside the car had stopped, watching as your boyfriend's eyes darted down to his fidgeting hands. 

"I just think we should talk about it. And I wanted to do that in person."

Your throat went dry again, but this time it felt more like choking. Just looking at Seungcheol you could see how genuine he was; how nervous, how hopeful, how loving, and while you knew it should have eased your mind your heart squeezed at the thought that you could lose all of that. Even though deep down you knew Seungcheol wouldn't be shallow enough to break up with you because of scars, you just wanted to seem perfect to him for a little longer... there was no harm in that, right?

And yet, looking at his uncertainty, you realized your dancing around the issue had hurt him. Or, at least, made him less confident. 

You licked your lips and took a shaky breath, but you could only find the courage to start speaking when you weren't looking directly at him. 

"Seungcheol," you started, and his gaze snapped up, searching your face. "I— I want to. Trust me, I do, I just… I'm scared." When you managed to glance up at him, you noticed that he looked both crestfallen and concerned. He inched towards you, gently taking your hands in his, offering you every possible out if you wanted it. 

"What are you scared of, baby?" You realized as he said it, as you looked into his big, soulful eyes, that he thought you meant you were scared of him. Immediately you felt your stomach plummet, and you squeezed his hands in yours, swallowing hard. 

"It's just— you haven't seen me without makeup or anything yet, and my skin," you cleared your throat, trying desperately to fight the way it was wavering, but you found it cracking and shrinking nonetheless. "It's not pretty. I don’t… I don’t like how I look, I don’t feel confident. So I’m scared you won’t want me anymore once you see what I really look like, a-and—” You paused, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to make your voice stop shaking, but it proved useless once you tried to continue,

“Things have been going so well and I don’t want to ruin anything between us… because I’m really falling for you, and it’s just… it’s just hard…” 

The more you spoke, the closer you felt you were to crying, and so you closed your mouth tightly in fear of letting loose a sob instead of words. You'd had such a nice dinner, and all you could think was that you were ruining a perfectly romantic gesture with your tears. Suddenly, it felt as though your mind was running a mile a minute, straight into a scenario where Seungcheol left you and all your insecurities behind for someone with less baggage and more suited for him— 

"Hey," he said, softly, halting your inner turmoil. "I'm scared, too." At that, you couldn't help but balk. 

"What?" You blurted. Then, with more clarity, "I mean, why? You... there's no reason for you to be scared, honestly." Your thumbs ran gently along his knuckles and you followed the movement with your eyes, feeling sullen and guilty and a whole cocktail of emotions you desperately wished to expel. You let out a watery, humorless laugh, 

"All my life," he started, voice soft. "I've compared myself to other people. I've always been, I don't know, soft-looking?” His lips pressed into a thin smile, but the corners of his mouth seemed unable to stay up for long. He cleared his throat, and you wondered if he was feeling as choked up as you were, voicing his insecurities,

“I tried so many diets and workout routines, and for a long time I was really pushing myself too hard. I'm still not always happy with how I look, but I'm healthy and I know that's what matters most." 

Seungcheol gently squeezed your hands, and so you looked up at him, surprised to find his eyes shiny with unshed tears. 

"I'm not the most fit person. I'm worried you won't like what you see, that you'll want someone more manly, but—" One of the tears finally fell, and you found yourself removing your hands from his grasp to take his face in them instead, gently wiping under his eyes. He closed them, letting out a shaky breath. 

"I want you to know all of me. I want you to have all of me."

"Cheol." His name left you practically on a whimper, and suddenly you realized you were crying again. You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss against his lips, which he quickly reciprocated. Before you could get distracted you pulled back, resting your forehead against his,

"Abs or no abs — nothing's going to change how I feel about you." 

"That's how I feel about you," he replied, hands coming to rest on your waist. You found yourself letting out a watery chuckle, and Seungcheol was quick to respond. 

"What?"

"We're silly, aren't we?" Seungcheol hummed at your statement, leaning in to press another quick kiss to your lips. 

"No," he said. "Your feelings, whatever they are, are important. Let's just be honest with each other from now on, even if we think it's silly." You nodded.

“And,” he continued. “Let’s try harder to see ourselves the way we see each other, okay?” He reached up for a moment, smoothing some of your hair behind your ear. His smile was so fond, his eyes so tender, and you found yourself practically melting into the leather seat.

“Deal,” you said, and Cheol grinned with his now-sparkling eyes.

“Good. Because I think you’re perfect.” You felt yourself blushing as he leaned in to kiss you, but with renewed confidence you chased after his lips as he pulled away, successfully stealing another. And another as you let your hands move behind his neck, threading your fingers through the hair at his nape. Seungcheol grippes at your hips more tightly, sighing into your mouth. You whined slightly as he pulled back, but Seungcheol was quick to distract you. 

"So," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "Now what do you think of spending a night with me?" A giggle escaped your lips. 

"I'd love to," you said. However, as he leaned in for another kiss, you playfully pushed him away. "But only if you promise to make those pancakes in the morning." Seungcheol rolled his eyes but couldn't keep himself from grinning as he drew his hands away from you to buckle himself back in,

"Your wish is my command."

With that, you sat back in your seat, buckling yourself in and grinning across the console at him.

Seungcheol kept his hand on your knee the whole drive home, only removing it to make the necessary turns to get to his place. You had a feeling he knew what he was doing, and by the time he pulled into the parking lot of his complex your nervousness had been replaced with a desire to be near him. You laced your fingers through his as you followed him up the flight of stairs to his floor, both of you grinning and giggling like teenagers. 

By the time you made it up to his apartment you could barely keep your hands off each other long enough for Seungcheol to put your blazer and purse down. You looped your arms around his neck and brought his face down to yours, kissing him hotly, wanting to know that he desired you just as much as you did him. 

And if you had any doubts about it then, they were dispelled by the following morning when you found yourself in his kitchen, his hoodie barely managing to hide the marks along your collarbone. You could smell the pancakes even from back in his bedroom, but now your senses were overloaded with their sweetness combined with Seungcheol’s familiar musky scent.

“Morning,” you greeted, shuffling into the kitchen. He cast a glance at you from his place before the stove, smiling immediately at the sight of you.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You let out an amused snort, though you were glad he couldn’t see your blush as you admired him from across the kitchen. Seungcheol might not have been confident with his body all the time, but obviously your admiration of his physique the night before hadn’t gone unnoticed as he stood shirtless making breakfast. A part of you worried for a moment about him being so near a stove without anything to cover his chest, but you assuaged those fears by looping your arms around his waist, providing the cover yourself.

“How are you feeling?” Cheol asked, using his free hand to lift one of yours to his lips. He pressed kisses to each of your knuckles, and you giggled as you softly pressed one of your own to his shoulder before nuzzling your cheek between his shoulder blades. You could feel the gentle laughter rumble through his chest, his skin soft against your own. As he let go of your hand you tightened your hold around him slightly, sighing contentedly as you replied,

“Perfect.”

[ketsuyuki-hibana-typed]

I get it, Anon, I get it. All of the Pillars are alive. But, I'll be lying if I said I'm not mad at Muzan, but he's hot. And Muzan you is still a dick.

HEEE HEEE *MJ voices*

Overall, this is really fun to write!

Kibutsuji Muzan x Friendly!Reader (Domestic Taisho EraAU)

Let's say. Muzan didn't really care about the Pillars. He actually sickened by "Killing Muzan by Ubuyashiki: A Whole Plan" scenarios, but keep searching for Blue Spider Lily.

He didn't order his Upper and Lower Moons to kill the Pillars. Whatever, they could slay his minions, yadda yadda but he will not lay up his hand on the Pillars nor the Ubuyashikis.

The reason was simple.

You.

"Muzan, it's me!" Your cheerful voice was heard from the front door, he stopped everything he do and quickly rushed to you

"Good morning, (y/n)."

"Morning, Muzan!" You put your shoes on the shoe rack. "I will make breakfast, like always! What do you want, Muzan?"

"Everything you cook will be fine by me."

"Okay!"

He actually didn't need to eat that, but seeing you with your Demon Slayer uniform covered with apron every morning was really pleasant. Also your food is somehow great on his taste bud.

"Oh, thank you for the antidote! Shinobu-chan said that she wanted to know you, but since you said to not tell anyone, I came up with a reason!" You put rice on his bowl and gave it to him.

"And what kind of reason you give to that Shinobu?" He took that bowl and started to eat. Who the fuck is Shinobu, he thought.

"I said that I picked it somewhere on the ground!"

"That's the stupidest reason you could come out with. And she believed that?"

"I don't know, she just sighed and continued her works." Muzan chuckled. He usually stared at you eating, almost forgot his own food.

He remembered the first time he met you. He was hiding after he lose on his fight with Tanjirou and the Pillars at Ubiyashiki residence.

Muzan recognized you as one of the new Pillars and about to change his appearance but he was caught by you. He really thought he will be killed

But instead, you said, "Are you lost? Can I help you? You look pale."

Instead killing you on the spot for saying him 'pale, he's playing along with the role, told you that his name is Toshikuni Muzan and he's a doctor who had special disease that couldn't stand under the sun.

When he knew that you are new Pillar, he thought about taking advantage from you to gather information about Demon Slayers. He thought about turning you into demon, or abducting you from there.

But none of it was done.

Now, the whole plan is a mess. His intelligence and tactical thoughts are useless. He was simply enthralled by your own charm. He could read your mind, clearer than the sky. He never sense any animosity thorough your head. It's just cloud of full happiness and full of kind thought.

He fell, really hard, for you.

And you didn't realize because thanks to you, the demon races including Upper and Lower Moons were about to extinct because he didn't create them anymore. He simply ordered his only trusted demon and Upper Moons now, Kokushibou and Akaza, to searched Blue Spider Lily. The rest could fuck off.

And now, you became his 'personal assistant' including his lover.

After cleaning the plates, you headed out to headquarters to give daily reports.

"Where's my daily kiss?"

"Hm, what kiss?" You stood in front of the shoe rack, looking confused.

"Here." He pointed his cheek.

"But aren't that supposed to do by married couple?" You tilted your head.

"Aren't we going to be a married couple soon?"

"We are going to be?" You became more confused, it made Muzan infuriated but he hid it well. "Just once won't hurt, I guess."

You tip-toed and hold his shoulder, did a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Have a good day."

"Bye, see you on night!"

You didn't live with him because you still have sick dad and little sister at your home. He has offered you to stay at his house, along with your family but you refused since you didn't want to disturb his research.

When you don't have something to do on the headquarters or currently not training your students, you visited him again in the afternoon.

You usually asked him what he wanted to do, helping him or sometimes just sitting on his lab and reading some journals he made.

"How is your father? Did the medicine I made worked?" He asked while shaking his test tube slowly.

"Yes!" You jumped from your seat and ran towards his desk. "He felt so much better! Thanks to you, Muzan! I probably never find a kind doctor like you!"

"Well, that compliment seems super honest to me."

"Of course, I'm honest! Right! How should I pay you back?"

"Date with me, tonight."

"Whaaat?? Aren't we always dating at night? Well, except the day when I have mission."

"That's fine."

"If you insist, we'll go!"

He smiled again. You always succeeded on attempt to make him pleased, more than anyone else. It's just a simpel thing though, but he appreciated it.

After eat lunch, you took a seat on his sofa, doze off and take a nap there. Muzan joined you, sometimes he slept on your thighs, sometimes you slept on his shoulder when he reading his book.

"Muzan-sama, I came to-"

"Ssh." Muzan put his finger in front of his lips when he saw Akaza from the window.

"Ah." Akaza lowered his voice when he peeked up on Muzan's shoulder. "Miss (y/n) is here, I see. Excuse me."

He didn't want anyone to disturb your nap. Not after he saw your eye bags, plus scars here and there.

Well, should I ordered my remained demons to escape or don't attack her, he thought. He looked at you again. Wow, what an idiot expression.

"Mu... Zan... How about... Scaly... Skin..."

He wiped your drool, and smiled with the same idiot expression with you.

It really hits different when people were in love, indeed.

When night comes, your 'date' with him is started.

You will hold his hand and pulled him around on the way. The reason, again, is simple.

"I'm not really familiar around this city."

"Huh? Even though you live near here? No worries! I'll be your guide!" You showed him smug smile, and grabbed his hand.

If Douma was around, he probably laughed at you because he knew that Muzan could remember roads and places in the blink of eye.

But, no, he won't tell you the truth.

When you walked around, you usually bumped on your fellow Pillars.

"Tanjirou!!"

"(y/n)! How are you doing?" Tanjirou approached you with bright smile.

"I'm great!"

"Did you just go alone? I just got news from Kasugaigarasu about this place. There are demons, it's dangerous to walk around alone in this city."

"Huh, but I walked with Mu- I mean, Toshikuni-san, my- eh? Where did he go."

"Hm?"

"It- It's my acquaintance." You looked around like a chick lose its mother.

"I see. Anyway, please be careful."

"I will! Thank you, Tanjirou!"

After Tanjirou waved his hand, you looked for him. "Muzan! Muzan, where are you- whoa!" You almost slipped and someone caught your back in time.

"Careful there, lady."

"Muzan! Where have you been? I just meet one of the strongest Pillar, I wanted to introduce you to him."

"I didn't want to meddle with Pillars except you."

"Why is that?"

"By the way-" He put a red hairpin on your hair. You tapped your head, feeling something. "Perfect."

"Muuuu, you always bought me things when we're dating! The only things I ever gave to you were handmade omamori and knitted scarf. It's so unfair!" You light-hitting his chest, he just laughed while playfully fend your hand.

"That's the essential of dating." He patted your hair. "Let's go."

You're still grumpy but soon forget about that. Both of you continued your walk, from the square to a little bit quiet place.

"Oh, hi, grandpa!! How is your udon selling today?"

"Auntie, let me help you!"

"Girl, you look cute on that dress!"

Muzan rubbed his forehead. Are you really not knowing the concept of 'Minding your own business'?

"You're really friendly."

"These are the people who helped me!"

"Just a little help."

"It means a lot for me!"

"Hah, read the situations will you." He mumbled. He didn't really like her being so friendly towards other. It really pissed him off.

"Oh? Oh? Muzan, are you jealous?" You elbowed his ribs.

"Yes, so kiss me." He moved his face towards you. You hold his face down.

"Why is everything had to be resolve by kiss?! Muzan you-"

You suddenly stopped. The sense of demons lingered around your body.

"Muzan, back off." You unsheathed your hidden sword. "The demons are here. Tanjirou was right about the rumour."

You didn't waste your time. Not wanting the demons attacking first, you went to the direction where the demons were ready to kill you.

He just stood there while crossing his arms, smile proudly of his little baby slashing down numerous demons in no time.

Oh, what a poor demons, they probably wanted to report something to Muzan. But nah, he will just ask Akaza what happened

"Done! I'll give the reports thorough my crows later."

"What a reckless move." He wiped the blood on your cheek. "I see you're not hurt anywhere. Thank you for protecting me."

"Of course!"

"Let us continue our walk."

It's just both of you now, heading back to home.

"You see, Muzan. I might kill demon and all but..." You looked down and smiled vaguely. "I wonder what kind of life they had before they become demon. Is she a daughter? Future bride? A samurai? I don't know. But I always pray they will get a good life in the next reincarnation after I ended their life as a demon."

"Really? How thoughtful of you." He stopped and stood in front of his house.

"Yeah. So-" You looked at his eyes, grabbing his hand and clasped it gently. "I hope you could heal, I hope you could see the sun, feeling the warm dissipate into your body on our next life. I hope we could meet on our next life."

Again, he read your mind. Nothing. just pure thought about him being a complete healthy... Human. It's weird because he saw the human value inside you.

He didn't just fell for you, he was demolished by you to the ground.

Your sister sometimes told you to stay him at night because he seems lonely.

"Nee-chan, I will take care of father."

"But-"

"I'm a Demon Slayer too, count on me!"

"Well..."

"Toshikuni-san looks lonely in that big house, as his lover shouldn't you accompany him?"

Since there's no problem with it, sometimes you went to his house an sleep with him. When you do, he's really happy and always promised he didn't do anything weird towards you without your consent.

His bed was so big, unlike the futon on your house. After change into your bed robe, you likes to roll around without worry.

"You really like my bed?"

"Uh-hum." You put your cheek on his pillows. "It smelled like you."

"That's why I told you to move here." He positioned himself besides you. He tugged you into the blanket, kissed you on the forehead and brought you closer to his chest. He caressed your back until you fell asleep.

"Good night, Muzan."

"Good night, (y/n). Sweet dreams."

He didn't need sleep, he only need you to stay by his side.

Oh how he wish he went back to human again.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Don’t Say Goodbye

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,193

Warnings: Blood, injury, panic, implied smut, friends with benefits situation, anger, heartbreak. I think that's it!

Request: For @viarogers​ who donated to the Australian Bushfires.

Summary: What a shit show.

A/N: I really hope you enjoy this!

(Not my GIF)

***

Well, this has gone terribly.

No.

Oh, no-no.

This was worse than terrible.

This was a disaster. And it had been from the moment it started.

The mission was a complete failure.

However, that’s not where it started.

(Seven months ago)

“Natasha?” You asked in the cold dead night, staring up at your bedroom ceiling. Eyes used to the dark of the room. The sun would be rising soon, anyway. You knew you wouldn’t be getting any sleep, so it was fruitless for you to even try.

“Hmm?” Natasha hummed, as she sat at the edge of your bed, pulling on her clothes.

You couldn’t bare to look at her. If you did, it was certain you would surely break down.

“Why do we keep doing this?”

Natasha chuckled, totally blanking the far off drawl to your voice.

“Because sex is fun,” she said, jumping up and down as she pulled on her jeans. Before turning to face you, leaning over your face, “And you’re a good lay.”

With that, Natasha pressed a hard kiss onto your lips, one that she did not notice that you had not reciprocated.

“I’ll see you later, baby,” she smiled over her shoulder, moving to leave the room, “Let’s do this again later.” With her back facing the door, Natasha shook her hips, with a teasing smirk on her face. “Maybe a quickie in the storage closet.”

“I’m a good lay?” You asked, still stuck on her words.

“Well, yeah.”

“Is that all I am to you?”

Natasha stopped fixing her hair, to turn and look at you once again.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Answer my question,” you ordered.

“No. You’re not just a lay to me.”

“Then what am I?”

“Y/N,” Natasha said slowly, crawling onto the bed next to you, hand caressing your chest. Your body unmoving, eyes still locked upon the ceiling. “You’re my best friend.”

“That you sometimes sleep with.”

“I don’t think ‘sometimes’ is the most accurate word,” Natasha chuckled.

“Natasha,” your voice was firm but sad.

“Okay… you wanna be serious now?” Natasha asked sceptical, “Because that is so unlike you.”

“I’m allowed to be serious, Natasha.”

Folding her arms under herself, to rest her chin upon them, still looking at you. Natasha clarified, “I know you can. It’s just that you don’t, normally… you can’t even look at me.”

“That’s because it hurts.”

“It hurts to look at me?” Natasha asked sadly.

“Yes.”

“Y/N,” she tried, “Y/N?”

Kicking her leg over your waist, she leaned over you. Hands on your cheeks, face obscuring your view, but still unable to tear your eyes away from the ceiling above.

“Y/N, please look at me. Please,” Natasha begged.

“I can’t.”

“Why, Y/N? Why does it hurt you to look at me?”

“Because I’m in fucking love with you, and I can’t bring myself to look you in the eyes, when you only see me as your friend,” you admitted. Finally.

“Fine,” Natasha spat. She thought you were lying to get her to drop it faster. Because of course, why would she believe anyone could ever be in love with her, “Don’t tell me. You know what? Don’t even fucking talk to me.”

Storming to the door, she threw it open, before slamming it behind her.

You were right.

You didn’t sleep.

When you went out to grab breakfast not even an hour later, the whole team gave you pitying looks.

They knew of your and Natasha’s strange relationship. It’s not like either of you tried to hide it. All of them finding you in more than compromising positions, too many times for any of them to count.

Natasha was nowhere to be seen, presumably locked away in her room, allowing anger to consume her.

You hadn’t spoken since then.

Not once.

Not when the team had, as Tony liked to call ‘em, “Family dinners”. Let's just say the name stuck, and that’s what everyone called it now.

Not when it was just you two left at the compound.

Not during a mission, a briefing, nor the debriefing.

You didn’t even fight. There was no contact. Almost as if you were to say “hi” to the other, you would keel over.

You had gone on many missions like this with one another. It was only an amount of time before a mission like this was bound to happen.

It had been disastrous, from start to finish.

You were bombarded by HYDRA Agents as soon as you had stepped off the Quinjet. More than had been expected. Forcing you to retreat further into the surrounding forest, and rework the mission on the spot. Luckily it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You were The Avengers, you were always ready to think on your feet when you needed too.

The HYDRA Agents surrounded the jet, and your team was nowhere near it.

So the new objective was to wait for back up, and try to clear most of the enemy Agents away from the jet, to retreat back to base, and rework your plan accordingly.

A difficult mission. But easy enough to understand.

But things were only to get worse.

***

You were always level headed, making jokes, and keeping things light and happy. Never one to raise your voice -other than to gain attention, or for important reasons-, to snap at anyone. You were the embodiment of calm serene nature. Always trying to make the team calm down and spirits high.

Peter had, on more than one occasion, called you “chill”, to define the energy you radiated.

It was obvious to everyone that no one feared you, even if you were a skilled agent of SHIELD and an Avenger. And you liked it that way. Who would ever want to be feared?

You felt anger -of course, you did- you just found it pointless to show it and start an unnecessary fight.

Maybe you had some emotional issues to work through. But who out of your team didn’t?

So, it was only understandable how the rest of the Avengers would react when you finally lost it.

The mission was tough. The toughest yet in your year and a half on the superhero team.

“Can we get some medical assistance over here?!” Your voice called through the comms.

“On its way,” Maria wired through from base, “Should be there in twenty.”

“Gonna need it faster than that, Maria,” you almost chided through the comms.

“There’s nothing we can do, Y/N,” Maria chided right back at you.

“Fuck,” you hissed.

The sticky red substance oozed through your fingers and flowed over the ground below her, from the wound in her abdomen. There was so much blood. Too much. The bullet had hit something vital, that much was sure. But how long the woman below you had, was not.

Natasha gripped your wrist, making you snap your attention to her tear-filled eyes. Seeing the absolute openness within them, her walls had fallen. And it was almost like that was all she had to say.

She didn’t need to verbally say anything to you. You knew exactly what she wanted to say.

I’m scared.

Please don’t let me go.

Don’t leave me.

I’m sorry.

I wish I had more time with you.

To make things right.

And that’s when you broke.

“Maria, get the med-team down here now!” you roared down the comms, unknowingly making everyone's eyes go wide with shock, of how angry you sounded, some of your teammates stumbling in their current task because of it. 

Even Natasha’s eyes, which were exponentially weaker than they were a few moments ago, grew slightly wider at your sudden outburst. Her hand, however, still gripping onto you tightly.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Tony finally regained his composure, and was able to mutter into the comms, his voice soft with worry as he continued, “How bad is it, really?”

You didn’t reply, knowing you would break down and cry if you did, already feeling that sore burn in the back of your throat, chin wobbling as you tensed your neck.

Instead, you decided to ask, with your voice hard with worry, “Maria?”

“I’ve told them to speed things up. They should be with you in exactly six minutes.”

Sparing a glance back up to Natasha’s increasingly paling face, you knew it still wasn’t fast enough.

Natasha knew it too, if the was she smiled sadly at you was anything to go by.

“That still doesn’t work for me, Maria,” you said while pressing harder onto the still seeping bullet wound, causing the red-head you whine out in pain, “We need it faster than that.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Maria replied weakly.

“God fucking- Damnit!” Your sentence began off weak before it turned into a loud frustrated yell.

You were helpless. You literally could do nothing to help her. Everyone knew that. And you hated that.

“Y/N?”

You were pulled out of your own mind, with the whisper of your name. Thankful to have been aided in your escape from the swimming thoughts. Until that is, you saw the look on Natasha’s face.

It was pitying almost. She was so sorry. Tears streaming down her face, and a sad smile on her face.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” you interrupted her, “Please. Don’t.”

“Y/N, please just let me say this,” she begged. Which you nodded at her, giving her the go-ahead, to continue, “I’m so sorry. I should have stayed that night. I should have talked to you. I wish I did... I wish we had more time...”

“Please don’t do this,” you cried, chest shaking as you tried to hold in your sobs.

Natasha tugged lightly on your wrist, indicating that she wanted you to move closer to her.

“Just- Just hold me, please?”

“Of course.” You nodded. Removing one of your hands from her gaping wound, to slide it under her neck, causing Natasha to groan at the movement. You kissed in between her eyebrows, as you laid beside her. Whispering for her to try and hold on just a little while longer.

If only she had listened to your pleas. As her eyes fluttered closed, and you couldn't wake her when you shook her. Just as the quintet whirred above you, in its landing.

***

It had been fifty-seven hours since the mission.

And you had not left the hospital since you had gotten back to base.

Your hand clasped in the red-heads clammy one, eyes trained on either her chest to make sure she was still breathing, or her face to give you the confirmation you needed that she was, still in fact, here.

Natasha was still not awake.

The doctors said that it was normal with an induced coma. However, that didn’t stop your worry. You didn’t think that it would leave you until Natasha was fully back on her feet. But you knew that there would still be that little voice in the back of your head, reminding you of this. Keeping the knowledge of her mortality with you for the rest of your life.

As you stared at her face, that had regained most of its colour back, you kept on thinking back to when Natasha had become limp and lifeless in your arms. And the emergency blood transfusion you had given on the medical-evac, as medics swarmed Natasha, trying to stop the, somehow, still bleeding wound.

You hadn't noticed that you were staring blankly at your entwined hands until you felt yours being squeezed.

Looking up, you saw Natasha awake, abet groggy, and smiling at you.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay.” The relief that you felt was next to extraordinary, the weight upon your shoulders mostly leaving you, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time since the mission.

“Thank God you’re here.”

“Like I’d be anywhere else.”

The corner of Natasha’s lip twitched up, as she weakly tugged you closer to her body. Both of you relishing in the soft kiss you shared, the one that was long overdue thanks to your shared stubbornness, and obliviousness.

“What was that for?” you whispered against her lips, moving to carefully sit next to her bandaged abdomen on the bed, still caressing her hand on your lap. Your other arm holding you up on the other side of the hospital bed, as you leaned over her, Natasha’s empty hand resting on your upper arm.

If anyone were to walk into the room right now, they would instantly know that they had interrupted something so intimate and private, that they would be quick to rush out of the room.

Which is exactly what Tony did. Deciding instead it was best to fetch a doctor to check on Natasha, while you two spoke.

“I love you, too.”

“What?” you asked shell shocked.

“You-” Natasha started anxiously, her voice uncharistically small, “You still love me, don't you?”

“Of course I do.”

Natasha let out a relieved sigh.

“If you say yes, I’d really like to try again. Have a real relationship this time? Actually, try the dating thing.”

You smiled leaning down to whisper, just before you kissed her once again, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

[baekhyub]

Baekhyun smut 🥺 thank you

I Dare You

Baekhyun x Reader Smut

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Party Imagine

for anon hope you like it! (:

It was finally the weekend and you’d been excited the full week and it was worse because it felt like the week had been going on forever. You were excited because this weekend you were going to you’re friend Baekhyun’s house for a party and to say the least you’d had a crush on Baekhyun for a while but you’d always been to scared to say anything. All you’re friends tease you about it, sometimes too loudly. You really hope Baekhyun doesn’t know mainly because you didn’t want you’re friendship to be ruined. You’d been friends forever and another reason is because he can be a bit of player sometimes and you didn’t want you’re heartbroken.

~9.00pm

You arrived at Baekhyun’s front porch looking in the window to see everyone mingling about with each other and you could hear the music slightly. It was nothing too big just the members and staff as well Baekhyun’s friends outside the company he was never too bothered about big crazy party’s.

You walked up to the door pressing the doorbell whilst tugging you’re black dress down and fixing you’re hair quickly. Then Chanyeol answered the door rather loudly “HEYYYY y/n HOW ARE YOU” he pulled you in for a hug “you look great come in”

You giggled at Chanyeol always loving the loudness that came along with him “so do you, how’s hyun-ae” asking about his girlfriend

“She’s here actually come let’s go say hi”

We walked through the hall and into the living room to where mostly everyone was gathered. You say Chanyeol’s girlfriend who you had actually grown close with

“Heyy oh my god you look amazing” you said hugging her

“As do you” she smiled “do you want a drink”

“That would be great”

She handed you you’re drink just when a few of Baekhyun’s friends and Chen and his wife came over and we all started chatting just when you saw Baekhyun enter from his back garden along with other people at the party.

His eyes went to you instantly and he came running up to you like an excited kid in a theme park . “Y/N YOU’RE HERE WOW”

“What you didn’t think I was gonna come” you smiled to him

“I mean how could you miss my party, you would never disappoint me” he smirked

You got butterflies at that I mean seriously when you were around him you felt like a teenager in love.

A few hours later the party began to die down and people started leaving one by one and let’s just say everyone was pretty drunk . It ended up only being you, Baekhyun of course, Suho , Xiumin and a few of Baekhyun’s friends left.

You were all sitting on the floor in the living room when Xiumin suggested that you all play truth or dare.

“Seriously Xiumin What age do you think we are” suho replied laughing

“Yeah I’m not playing” I said

“No come on it will be fun” Baekhyun’s friend Kimmy said

“Well Baekhyun should choose wither we play or not he’s the host” Minjae said

We all looked to Baekhyun

“You know what let’s do it, I’ve seriously not played since I was about 17”

Some of us rolled our eyes whilst others cheered

A few in it got to Baekhyun again and I saw Xiumin giggling

“Okay Baektruth or dare”

“dare”

“I dare you to kiss kimmy”

I was getting bored but my eyes widened and I sat up nervously looking between Baekhyun and Kimmy and then Xiumin who I was practically shooting daggers at.

Baekhyun leaned forward as did Kimmy right in front of my face. He even held her face as he kissed her and this wasn’t just a peck this was a proper kiss I could see their tongues.

From the mix of me loving Baekhyun for years the alcohol it was getting too much for me and I got up

“Where are you going” suho asked with worried eyes

I hesitated before answering “umm...just going to..” I looked around the room “I’m going to the bathroom I don’t know if I feel well” suho nodded still looking at me as I left the room.

Instead of going to the bathroom I went upstairs to Baekhyun’s room and sat on the bed I held my hands on my head and I started crying. This is so stupid why do I even like him he literally doesn’t give a shit about me in that way at all.

-back downstairs-baekhyun p.o.v.

I pulled away from Kimmy and looked around seeing everyone dying of laughter at the stupid dare but then I couldn’t see y/n

“Wait where did y/n go”

“I think she went to the bathroom she said she didn’t feel well”

“Oh I’ll go check on her,just continue the game”

I left the room and went to the bathroom knocking on the door “y/n you in here” she didn’t reply so went in and she wasn’t there

I went upstairs to the rooms to check if she was maybe in there

-y/n p.o.v.

As I sat up brushing my hair away from my face Baekhyun came in the room and saw my teary eyed face

“Woah y/n are you okay”

“Yes Baek I’m fine” I looked down not wanting him to see me anymore than he did there

“What’s wrong I know something’s wrong” he came and sat next to me on the bed.

“Nothings wrong can you just leave” I twisted away from him

“No not until you tell me”

“No”

“Y/n”

“I said no”

“Why can’t you just tell me”

“Because I don’t want to or need to”

“Well you have to we’re friends”

“I said leave me alone Baekhyun”

“FOR GODS SAKE TELL ME”

“FINE YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT IT IS SO BAD”

“YES”

“ITS BECAUSE OF YOU”

I fully sat away from him now moving to the bottom of the bed but he stood in front of me

“What do you mean because of me”

“It’s because I like you okay, I really like you and I always have and unfortunately I think I always will” I stopped crying at this point now I was just angry

“Are you saying this because you’re drunk”

“NO is it so hard to believe that I like you”

“I don’t know what to say y/n”

“You don’t have to say anything I know you don’t like me”

I leaned back keeping my arms behind me supporting me . Just then Baekhyun leaned forward putting his hands at either side of me and he kissed me

suddenly he pulled away

“It’s so hard to believe you like me y/n yes it is, but that’s just because I like you too so do you blame me for not believing this is actually happening right now”

I don’t think anyone could of smiled harder or blushed harder than me in that moment

I leaned back on the bed and Baekhyun climbed on top of me we started kissing each other passionately we had both been longing for this moment for so long and it’s finally hapenining.

I started feeling up and down Baekhyun’s body to take it all in as he started running his hands over my face and neck

He pulled away from my mouth and started biting down my neck I moaned slightly brushing my hands though his hair

He pulled back taking his shirt off and I got up and took my dress off quickly before climbing back into bed

“Sit up” he told me and I did as he said

He reached behind me whilst his face was right next to mine , he unclasped my bra and brought his face down biting on the skin around my breasts as well as using his hands to play with them

As he did that I brought my hand down to his crotch palming him through his jeans “fuck y/n” he said as his voice vibrated against my skin giving me shivers , he sat up unbuckling his belt as I got on my knees in front of him. When he undid his belt I pulled his jeans as well as his boxers down and his hard on nearly about slapped me in the face

I immediately took his dick into my hands and started pumping him then took him into my mouth going all the way down gagging I done this a few times before he grabbed my hair practically fucking my mouth . I moaned on to his dick making him flinch and then he came into my mouth

“You’re turn y/n”

I layed flat on my back and baek leaned down in front of my lace panties pressing down on my clit over the thin material making me buck my hips up and he smirked

“Baek can we just do it, I’ve waited long enough”

“Definitely”

Baekhyun ripped my panties off me

“HEY THEY WERE NEW”

“I’ll buy you new ones”

He said before placing his cock at my entrance sliding it up and down my slit before pushing into me putting his hands at the sides of my head as I gripped his shoulders adjusting the size

He went in slowly with his mouth wide open until he had his full length in me before pulling out slowly again and then slamming into me at a fast pace

“Fuck Baekhyun” I said dragging my nails down his back

He groaned and he pounded into my

He leaned down to kiss me and he lifted his head as I bit his lip so he couldn’t get far

I brought my hand down to his hips pulling him down motioning him to faster and he did and it was all too much

He clasped his hands into my hands and we kissed roughly

I pulled away “ I’m gonna cum”

“Me too baby” he said out of breath sounding

I reached my orgasm and I clenched around him moaning loud

Baekhyun pulled out cumming all over my breasts

As we sat out of breath for a bit and he pumped out the last of his cum he got up grabbing a towel from his dresser before helping me clean up and we both got changed

“So what does this make us” he asked me

“Well I guess this means we date”

“I like it” y/n Byun will sound nice

“You’re planning that far ahead”

“Always”

We went to go downstairs when we saw Suho getting his coat about to leave along with one of the other party go ers

“Where is everyone”

“Everyone’s gone just us about to leave now”

“We didn’t wanna disturb you” the guy said

“Yeah don’t worry we all had fun and everyone told me to say thanks” suho said

And also “I see that you’re definitely okay now y/n” suho laughed before they both walked out the door

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

No Nut November: Fail feat. Jake Virtanen

Plot: Your boyfriend and his teammates try out No Nut November and you are not having it.

Word Count: 2,990 (A lot longer than I planned...) Warnings: All the smut, some cursing

         “You’re doing that on purpose.”

          At the sound of your boyfriend’s rather snippish tone, you look around your shoulder from your position loading dishes into your parent’s dishwasher. You frowned at Jake, who stood like a drill sergeant behind you, impressive arms crossed over his chest.

          “Loading dishes? Yeah, because my mom ordered me to.”

          He returned the glare right back. It was much more intimidating on him, seeing as he was 6’1” and built like a tank. “No,” he snapped. “Doing it…like that.”

          Your eyebrows furrowed deeper, this time in confusion. “Am I doing it wrong or something?”

          Jake rolled his eyes dramatically and you thought about throwing one of your mother’s precious china plates at his beautiful head. “No, you’re standing…like that.”

          The confusion immediately transformed into annoyance and you closed your eyes against the tidal wave of it, hanging your head and rubbing the bridge of your nose to collect yourself.  “Is this about that stupid no nut November challenge?”  You took his stubborn silence as a begrudging yes. “Oh my god.”

          At the Canuck’s annual Halloween party, your boyfriend and three of his teammates drunkenly agreed to take part in the ridiculous viral sensation that was No Nut November.  Sitting next to him on the couch, you had nearly dropped the glass of cheap wine you had been holding all over the couch cushion as you listened to the rules of this competition.  

        Being the drunken idiots that they were, you had listened to the rules become more and more outrageous until they included no masturbating, no cumming during sex, no pornography, etc.  It had been the cocky rookie Quinn—who had been absolutely plastered, you might add—that had thrown out having NO sex.  When you and two other WAGS had all let out shocked squeaks in protest, he had quickly recanted that idea, which you knew he’d appreciate himself when he was sober.

          The drunker they had all gotten, the more heated the exchange, until they all started one upping each other on the winning price. You had listened in horror as they kept throwing out higher and higher numbers.  Only when they reached $5000 did you put a solid hand on Jake’s thigh and give it a sold squeeze.  It was his money, and he could absolutely do what he wanted with it, but you knew him well enough to figure that he would not appreciate a $5000 pot once he was sober.

          Finally—with help from their much soberer significant others—they had all settled on $2500 to whoever conquered No Nut November.  In the end, the rules had encompassed that none of them could cum in any way, shape, or form for the entirety of November.  It was you who had made sure to clarify that they could certainly help their SO’s cum over the next 31 days.

          The next morning—as you had predicted—your boyfriend had been furious with himself and his teammates.  The first thing he had done the following morning was lunge over to his phone and furiously text them, asking if they were serious about this while you sat there, shaking with the effort not to laugh.  After much cursing and name calling, all the stubborn, competitive men had agreed that No Nut November would go forward as planned, with a $2500 reward for the winner.  He had moped around all day and you had been worried he would be like that all month.

          To put it lightly, your boyfriend was a complete horndog.  Like, complete horndog.  When you had first begun dating, his teammates had theorized that maybe he would calm down with the frequency with which he had sex, but that had turned out to be very much not true.  Now, instead of a different woman every few days, it was all just focused on you.  

        Thankfully, you were not taking part in No Nut November, and Jake was nothing if not gracious and giving.  He still got you off at the normal, near daily frequency, whether it to be eating you out in the morning until you begged him to stop, or pulling you into his lap and holding eye contact with you while he fingered you to climax.  But it wasn’t the same.  No orgasm was the same when it wasn’t with him inside of you, filling you up until you were breathless.  But he was a stubborn asshole and always stopped himself before he lost control and buried himself in you.  Stupid pride.

        Now, you stood across from him in your mother’s kitchen on Thanksgiving evening, wanting to throw a family heirloom at his gorgeous face.  As the month had progressed, he had been getting grumpier and grumpier.  But, he had also been getting more and more irresistible as well.  Since he couldn’t have sex, he had been spending more time at the gym to work off his energy and he had filled out even more than he already was.  He had bought a new sweater for family Thanksgiving at your parent’s place, and it did nothing to hide the new definition of his muscles. He had also begun taking his energy out on you in more vigorous ways, fingering or eating or stimming you to orgasms strong enough to knock you unconscious.  

        Still, it just wasn’t the same.

        Straightening up and turning around, you took a deep breath. “Jacob, you are driving me insane.”  He gritted his teeth.  “I’m driving you crazy? You are bending over, looking like that, in that dress, and I’m driving you crazy?”

        You looked down.  You had worn this dress about 50 times to work and other parties because it was one of the nicest you had and you happened to look pretty good in it.  You knew for a fact that Jake happened to really like this dress. He could never keep his hands off of you when you wore it…oh.

        A grin cracked your face.  “You think I worse this dress to give you a hard time?”  You almost laughed. Damn, you were punny.  Jake, on the other hand, did not look amused.  “You do not have to bend over that far to put dishes in a dishwasher.”  Now, you had to laugh. Walking over to him, you cupped his face in your hands. He welcomed you like it was second nature, his hands coming around your waist and holding you close.  

        “Are you struggling baby?” you teased, wiping your thumbs over his strong cheekbones.  He pouted as his hands wandered over your hips and dangerously low onto your ass.  “No,” he lied.  “I have four days left. And I am going to win.” You hummed in affirmation. “Of course you are, baby.”  

        Rising onto your tiptoes and pulling his face down, you pressed a sweet, long kiss to his mouth.  When he groaned into the kiss, a chill ran down your spine.  His arms came tight around your waist and he crushed you to him, the force bending you back over his arms. He bit down on your bottom lip. Hard. Letting out a cry of pain and surprise, you opened your mouth and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss until you weren’t sure where you ended and he began. Your arms flew around his neck, seeking purchase against the onslaught of heat and sensations. He took a step forward and your body went with his until you both stumbled back against the counter, the marble digging into the small of your back.  When you desperately whimpered into the kiss, he responded immediately, palming your ass with one hand and grinding your hips against his.  He was rock hard against your stomach and you knew what was going to happen next. He would shove your dress up and either spin you around to take you from behind, or he would lift you up onto the counter and—

        The kiss ended so abruptly you were left gasping, and the sudden absence of his body against yours was a violent shock to your senses.  When you stumbled forward he caught you by the arms and not un-gently pushed you back against the counter.  Your body immediately sought his skin again and you reached up to clasp his wrists with your hands.

        You both stood there, panting violently in the empty kitchen.  As you stood there, you felt the anger become boiling thing in your belly.  You shoved his hands away.

        “Are you fucking kidding me, Virtanen?”

        He raised his head from its bent position and you wanted to groan aloud.  He was even more beautiful with his flushed face and swollen mouth, his hair hanging into his eyes.  You’d jump him and take him to the floor if you weren’t so mad at him.  He had the grace to look bashful as he pushed his hair back.

        “Four more days, baby. Four days and then we can—”

        “I don’t fucking care. I’m so goddamn mad at you right now, I—” You narrowed your eyes. “I’m going to make you lose this bet.” His eyebrows flew up comically high. “What?”  A new resolve had you pulling yourself to what was a not so impressive height, but you didn’t care. You felt ten feet tall in your righteous anger.  “I’m going to make you lose this stupid bet.” His eyes narrowed at the implied challenge. “You wouldn’t.”

        “Try. Me.”

        “Y/N, I swear to god—”

        You took a slow step toward him, all measured female provocation.  “What are you gonna do?” You challenged, raising your chin defiantly and holding eye contact.  He lowered his head until you were nearly nose to nose. “A challenge, little girl?” His voice was a growl that would have normally had you melting.  Now, it just fanned your anger. “What’re you going to do about it?” You repeated. The silence was so super charged you could feel it beneath your skin.  You knew exactly what you both wanted him to do about it, but his stubbornness wouldn’t let him with four days left.  

        Grabbing his jaw with one hand, you yanked him down and slammed your mouth onto his, your other hand going to the erection beneath his slacks to squeeze just hard enough.  Jake moaned into your mouth and his hips jerked forward, but you pulled away, stepping out of his reach.  He sputtered and blinked in surprise.  

        “Can you finish loading the dishwasher for me, darling?”  Without waiting for an answer, you spun on your heel and walked out of the room, adding a little extra sway to your hips.  His blue streak of curses had you smiling in triumph.

          About five minutes and a cacophony of clattering dishes later, Jake came skulking back into the living room where you sat with your family sat scrolling through Christmas movies for your annual tradition of a post-dinner Christmas movie marathon.  While most of your family and cousins had opted to change into more comfortable clothing, you had decided to stay in your dress and curl up under a blanket.

        As you watched Jake look around for an empty seat, you stood and beckoned him over.  His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he did as he was beckoned and walked through the dim room to sit on the couch.  You wasted no time in plopping yourself down in his lap, wrapping the blanket around both of you.

        He let out an almost imperceptible groan as you came down solidly over his cock, which was still hard. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you nuzzled a kiss to his temple and wiggled slightly.  His hand came onto your thigh and squeezed almost too hard. “Easy,” he growled against your throat.  You only hummed against his hair in answer.

        As the opening credits started on It’s a Wonderful Life, you wrapped your hand about Jake’s beneath the blanket. He complied, probably thinking it was innocent intimacy. Instead, you guided his hand slowly from your knee up your dress.  You felt his entire body go rock hard beneath you. When his fingers were close to your folds, you only just let the tips of them graze you.  He gave a light shudder as his fingers went on an adventure of their own, outlining the soft crease at the top of your thigh.  You rolled your hips again and he buried his face in your neck on another shudder. Thank god this was a big couch.

        You leaned your body into his.  It looked like you two were just cuddling closer as he leaned back against the couch, keeping your body tight to his. His face was still in your neck and he was trying to control his breathing. Lowering your head, you kissed him behind the ear and scratched his scalp with you nails. Just when he was about to push a finger inside of you, you pushed his hand away.  It came down hard on your thigh, almost startling a squeak out of you.  He was getting impossibly harder beneath you and you felt incredibly powerful.

        “I’m going to make some hot chocolate,” you announced, suddenly standing up from your spot on his lap. You were the only one that heard him curse as he pulled the blanket over his lap to cover his hard on.  A few of your family members responded, but you ignored them as you walked into the kitchen.

        You were having way too much fun at Jake’s expense and you knew it.  Did part of you feel bad? Absolutely. But did the rest of you kind of love it? Also yes. You were so busy pulling out hot chocolate ingredients and thinking up more ways to torture your poor boyfriend that you didn’t even hear him come storming up behind you.

        You cried out when a fist came into your hair and jerked your head back.  A hand came to cover your mouth and you dragged back against a blazing wall of heat.

        “You are a brat,” Jake snarled in your ear.  You felt a flood of heat between your legs and groaned against his hand over your mouth.  Taking his hand from your mouth, he reached down to drag your dress up over your ass.  His other hand stayed tight in your hair and he pushed your head forward until your chest was flush with the marble counter.  You were completely at his mercy now, his strength completely overpowering you  

        Your breath caught in anticipation as you heard him make quick work of his belt and slacks.  In the next second, he was pushing inside of you at an agonizing slow pace.  You both groaned long and low as he pushed into the hilt and stayed there for a long moment, savoring the feeling.  Letting out a primal growl of desperation, you fisted your hands on the marble and flexed around him, which earned you a curse.

        “Jake,” you whined. “Now. Please.”

        He wasted no time, pulling out and slamming back in, then again, and again.

        Aggressive and desperate, it was just what you needed after being denied him for so long.  As he continued, you braced one hand against the wall and used the other to cover your mouth, not trusting yourself to be quiet.  His hand tightened in your hair, and exquisite pain that drove you higher.

       You pressed your hand harder to your mouth as you got closer and closer, heard Jake groan your name.  It felt like a lifetime, but it was only a few moments until you both came. You knew it would be intense, but you had never imagined…

        Clawing your hand against the wall and biting down on your hand, you tried to ride the waves of pleasure that seemed to never end.  When he came in you, it was a warm sensation you had missed dearly.

        After what felt like an eternity, you felt Jake’s chest against your back as he leaned down and rested his forehead on your nape, laying a long, open mouthed kiss to the skin there.  You shuddered in response.

        The both of you groaned as he pulled out of you slowly and zipped himself back up.  His hands were warm and gentle as he pulled you up to a standing position and brushed your dress back down.  Pressing a long, sweet kiss against your forehead, he pulled your body into his.

        “Okay?” he asked, his voice husky.  In response, you went to your tips toes and pressed a long, open mouthed kiss to the pulse in his throat, pressing your tongue against his skin.  He exhaled deeply and clenched your hips in his hands.

        “Amazing,” you purred against his skin.

        His hand was in your hair again and he pulled your head back so he could look down into youe eyes. He did not look happy.

         “I am now out $2500 because of you.”

        Your own laugh was husky as you let your hands wander up his shirt and over the skin of his chest.  “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

        “You sure as hell will.”

        Heart pounding at all the ways you could earn his forgiveness, you pulled him down for another kiss.

       When the two of you returned to Vancouver the following day, neither of you left the apartment for 24 hours, pulling yourselves from bed and away from each other only to eat.  Turns out, none of them had won.  Brock had lasted a week, Bo two weeks, and Quinn—the great mastermind of the entire bet—hadn’t even lasted 24 hours.  Since Jake had lasted the longest, he earned $1800 as an acknowledgement to his commitment.  Not the full $2500 because, as Quinn pointed out multiple times, he didn’t actually win.

       “How should we spend this?” he asked you a few nights later.

       “I heard a new sex shop opened downtown—”

       You barely got your shoes on before he was yanking you out the door.

[oftenderweapons]

Small Town Swoons

Hello buttercups! Here is the big fat project I was talking about. I am giving you snippets and teasers of the whole thing, just to let you know what you’re all getting yourself into. 

There are some spicy tidbits here and there, so I would suggest only mature (18+) people read and/or engage with this post. 

I’ll be starting with Yoongi since his piece is really in the holiday spirit and I’m super hella inspired to write it, but don’t worry, Steamy waters is still coming (just know that I’m not done publishing stuff for the night 👀)

Let me know what you think about this project, what story you like the most and which one you really really look forward to reading 💕✨

Just in case you need it, here is my masterlist

Enjoy 💜

Apple of My Pie — Jin

In the bakery and café near the university many students barge in, desperate for coffee and the delicious apple pies served there once October comes. Some of them barge in for the sweet sight of the owner, still mysteriously single. Little do you know that he’s been pining after you for years, since you ran into his café in a slow, rainy Sunday morning, drenched like a stray kitten, asking only for friendly help. Friendship sparks easily and his comfort tastes as sweet as autumn apples. That’s how you find yourself flatmates, watching movies with his secret recipe hot cocoa on Saturday evenings and waking up to the delicious scent of his pies on Sunday morning. But the sudden apparition of a rival makes you wonder, what would it be like to fall asleep in his bed every night?

Mold Me New — Taehyung

Divorce is a mess, especially when you’re so young and you had bet your life on your high school crush. All those things you never had to learn are scary now: dating, friends with benefits, all those secret rules on social interactions and flirting. But then your friends gift you a clay modelling lesson at the local pottery. Your teacher looks like a quiet, grumpy man who slowly warms up to you, offering you his kind smiles and gentle laughs. Right when fear that your lack in courtship manners might cost you your greatest chance at a new happiness, his lessons indirectly turn into small advice, and suddenly it feels like his hands are shaping your heart into the perfect, beautiful whole you needed. And to show him your gratitude, you’re more than willing to gift the artist his creation.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.” That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed him in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out. “Every shape has its specific requirements.” He explained, dipping his hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from his fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched.” Once he was happy with the result he sat up, his foot starting a small pressure on the pedal. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up.” He smiled at the material underneath his hands. “Gentle. Easy.” He said, his sinewy fingers gently pressing into the art piece to be. His fingers seemed to stretch and bend imperceptibly, as if he was feeling the very texture of the material, and of the final result he wanted to obtain. “That’s the secret to good things.”

The Shrew, Untamed — Jimin

Everyone gets married in small towns. The hairdresser’s daughter, the butcher’s niece, the doctor’s granddaughter. Even your best friend. And someone has to organise all the weddings. You have taken part in so many it is unnerving. You’re not asking for a husband, a simple fuckbuddy would suffice. You don’t even need someone with skill, you just need to have sex with a human. Though your goal seems unattainable and life apparently truly sucks, the petty florist where you order the flower arrangements offers you a beacon of hope, comforting you and spoiling you whenever you visit his shop, condescending to your every whim. Will he satisfy your every wish or will you have to supervision your best friend’s wedding on the verge of sanity?

“Sit down, sweet pea.” He said, offering you his chair. He immediately stood behind you, digging his fingers into your shoulders, massaging them. He always smelled like greenery. It was relaxing. “Who pissed on your roses, tiger?” He asked, his thumbs drawing circles at the base of your neck. You moaned and closed your eyes. “Poor baby. So stressed.” He purred, laughing. “Portia is getting married.” You groaned. He ohed. “Your friend, Portia?” You frowned and pouted. “That bitch. Portia.” You growled. He laughed a silvery sound. “It’s your best friend.” “It’s a stressed out insult. She wants me to plan it. Jimin, I am so tired of watching people getting married.” He kneaded the nerves near to your spine. “It’s a professional hazard, baby’s breath.” His finger stilled as he reached the middle of your back without finding the clasp of your bra. He moved upwards, ignoring the small detail. “It’s the third in two weeks. I can’t. Is everybody getting married this spring?” You asked, your head rolling forward. “I’m tired. Stressed. Grumpy.” You whine. “Baby, you have your sugarcane at home, use it.” He said, referring to your swirl shaped dildo. You shook your head. “It’s the warmth. Human touch. Sympathy.” Ask me, please — Jimin mentally begged — I’ll be so sweet to you. “And now I even need a plus one for Portia’s wedding. Lest she pairs me up with her cousin. Did I mention that he’s thirty and bald?” You sighed. “I can help.” He said. “With the Plus one.” He clarified. “Don’t expect me to get my fingers in your pie, blossom.” He stated. You shook your head. “Your loss.” You tutted. His loss, for sure. Not like you wanted him massaging your breasts as you sucked him off, laying on your white silk sheets, his dulcet moans filling your lonely room and your empty

Natural Connection — Namjoon

The city sucks. And before you definitely choose to resign from your job, you spend the money earned with your all-work-and-no-play attitude in a reinvigorating holiday in a natural resort in the woods. What you find is true heaven on earth, an eden of wonders and explorations. When you meet your guide, who will follow you and you alone, you almost cannot believe your luck. The closed-off man leads you through all the breathtaking sights of your location, offering you emotions and landscapes unrivalled — both in terms of wildlife and... well, humans? The steamy atmosphere seems to keep growing hotter together with the summer days, and before you can think twice your big friendly giant helps you get rid of the hots. What happens when your Adam and Eve idyllium gets interrupted by a ruckus of stag-partying jocks?

Namjoon knew your average blood pressure at rest and under effort, your shoe size, your weight and height. Still when he found you right before him he could barely believe the sight of you. He knew you were small but this small? He was surprised. Amazed. Completely dazzled by your size. “Uhm. Kim Namjoon?” You asked, hesitant. God, even your voice was small — he noticed. As you got even closer, he realised you barely reached his sternum. He was endeared. He imagined how hugging you would feel. Why was he imagining to hug a stranger? “Hello! Welcome to the Valley!” He said, offering you his hand. You took it and shook it energetically. “Thank you. I assume you will be my guide during my stay.” You commented. “Exactly. I'll be your coach and your guide through the whole experience.” “Perfect.” You smiled. He was dumbstruck by it. So sweet and bright. You noticed he had a nice voice. And a kind smile. He looked like a very gentle giant. “Have you brought any specific equipment with you or would you prefer to use the one we offer?” “I have trekking boots and walking sticks. You know, basic stuff that's difficult to find when you're the size of a teapot.” He laughed a loud belly laugh, which surprised you and pleased you. “Okay, we can head to the hall and chat about your activity plan.” He said, leading you. Walking behind him was definitely a hard challenge, both because his legs were kilometric — and damn fine — and because how could you not stare at that ass right in front of your gaze, clad in oh-so tight shorts? Once he realized you were basically running behind him, he turned, a bit confused. And then embarrassed. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, taking shorter steps. "Don't worry, it's okay. I'm a fast walker." You stated. He grinned. He barely stopped himself from murmuring a 'cute'. You were adorable.

Ink ‘n’ Run — Jungkook

People find awful ways to inculcate mean insecurities in our lives. It is to get rid of insecurity that you head to the talented tattooist in a small town near your campus, ready to ink your fears away. Ready to start from zero, you let yourself enjoy a night out clubbing and a steamy one night stand with a tattoed god. Hit by the morning-after regrets, you run away before he wakes up. Little do you know that he’ll be the man you’ll be spending several hours underneath, half-naked as he inks you. Such a shame that you keep running away each time he is ready to ask you for a date. And that he keeps running away after you convince yourself to concede him one. Will you manage to let each other see that you click perfectly or will you let that night be just an accident?

“Oh. You’re back. Lovely to see you, how can I help you?” He looks sweet. God, he was sweet, of course he looks sweet; you thought. He was the most gentle man you had ever been with. Wicked hips, but such a sweet mouth. “Uhm, I have an appointment?” You said, showing him the business card with the date and time of your appointment. “Oh.” His expression was the perfect depiction of confusion. “Uhm. I guess you can come into my studio, then. Do you have someone with you? Would you like Daisy to come in?” He said, looking at the girl sitting at the reception table. “No, I’m cool.” You forced yourself to form a tiny, polite smile on your face. As he walked ahead of you you noticed the way his tight black t-shirt hugged his narrow waist. And his wonderful, jeans-clad, toned ass. God, he had rammed into you like a mad man that night. You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to reality. Meanwhile, his mind was fuelled by millions of questions. Why had you run? Were you freaked out by what was happening? Were you as affected as he was at the idea of him working on you? Did you think he was a fuckboy? Would you let him take you out on a date? Would you let him fuck you again? Wait, scratch the last one.

Head over Heals — Hoseok

You are the most talented ice skater of your state. Or rather, you were. Your career was harshly interrupted by an unfortunate accident. Healing from the hurtful events takes strong nerves and positive energy. Luckily, your physiotherapist — the neighbour of your childhood home — is the most positive, enthusiastic person. New feelings bloom like daisies on a warm spring morning, while old feelings rekindle and light your way back home like a field of fireflights, back to places that you’ve always loved. It takes little time to get used again to his sweet energy and his gentle hands, healing your body and your soul. It takes even less time to fall head over heels for him.

“What changed?” He asked, drying your tear with his thumb. “I don’t know. It feels like it changed.” He smiled. “You’re still the same to me. Same bright eyed little girl running around in a summer dress, smelling like honey shampoo and sun cream. You feel like home. I think nothing has been okay since you were gone.” Your heart took a second to melt and resolidify around that new truth. “Hobi.” His eyes were glittering. “I think I always had a soft spot for you. You and your knees always scraped, the small curls framing your face, the way your braids came undone that night as we were driving away after prom in the convertible your parents ran away in when they eloped.” He looked so sad. And so beautiful. “Hoseok, I never forgot you, you know. You were my first.” You confessed. “And you were mine.” He replied. He paused. “We were perfect.” “We were.” You replied. We still could be. We are.

Sugar and Spice — Yoongi

A new girl moves into town, her goal starting her life from scrap. And then on a foggy autumn night she ventures in the local pub, where she meets a cute, tattooed bartender who happens to be the local sweetheart. Fate — and the sweet granny next door — seem to push them together; it’s only a matter of time before feelings bloom and attraction becomes too intense to resist. The magic of a small town, and that loneliness that they share and understand so deeply, bring them close at the most wonderful time of the year. Love can blossom even in the dead of winter and who knows, maybe they’ll find a new life by the time of the new year?

“How does it feel to live in a small town?” You asked, stretching your legs out the flannel blanket. Sunlight came in through the yellow leaves of the apple trees. “Like time doesn’t really exist. Until you don’t have any left and suddenly your friends are getting married and having children and all you have is a useless piece of paper stating that you’re a doctor.” He said. “But it’s okay. It’s lovely, at times like this.” He said, looking at the sky. “Marriage and kids are overrated.” You said, laying down. He looked at you, your eyes closed, your hair coming out of his beanie, currently covering your head. “Don’t leave me alone here.” You had a beauty he had never known. Or that maybe he had seen in his mother. That rough, tough beauty that looks dangerous from afar. Delicate from up close. You weren’t gracious. You weren’t cobwebs and golden hair and clouds. You were the ground, the trees, the stone. You were the mountains capped in ice, beautiful and so endangered. Still, so steady. You were the forest, eternal. Nothing could marr you. No man, no humanly disgrace. You would weather and transform, like nature does. Maybe he was idealising you, maybe he was giving you all those traits he had always wished in a woman. “Stop staring at me. Lay down. Enjoy your seconds before you turn into a fifty-something lonesome worm.” You teased. He laid. Your hand found his. “I’ll tell you how a small town feels like, based on the opinion of a girl from a big city.” He exhaled a laugh. “It’s comfort. Like when it rains outside but you’re in your bed and you’re warm and you don’t have to get up. You can simply lay.” He rolled onto his side, staring at your eyelashes. If I blink, will she disappear?

[starkerhowlter]

Daddy Stark’s Surprise

Ship: starker Rating: Explicit Contains: DD/LB, Feminization, biting, Consensual Power play, light Choking, slut-naming, namecalling, degradation, begging, praise-kink, Mirror Sex, Daddy Kink, dom/sub... probably more. Words: 2953 Summary: What Should Peter do to make this Valentine's Day better and different than others? How can he make this one unique?

Read it on AO3

A/N: Oh, my Gods! I'm posting my first smut fic.... By far, this is not my first smut fic I have ever written. Instead, this is the first time I have posted it!!! Woohoo!!! I hope you love it as much as I do! Also, this is sort of a companion fic to this fic, but it can be read alone!

Thank you so so soooooo much to my beta, @plueschpop​! Be sure to go and give her ALL the love for her help in bringing this fic to life.

Peter looks at the outfit laying on the bed, excitedly. He checks his phone again, waiting for the text from Tony that says he's home. Instead, he gets a notification from J.A.R.V.I.S. that Tony wants to see him in the living area.

"There he is!" Peter smiles at the man, waiting to see what's in store. "Happy Valentine's day, princess."

Peter's face brightens when he sees the Spider-bear holding a bouquet of roses on the couch. He picks the stuffed toy up and hugs it to his chest, and then hugs Tony, "Thank you, Tony, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!" The billionaire laughs and kisses his boyfriend's forehead,

"I'm not done with you yet, Peter. I have some other surprises for you."

The boy tilts his head, curiously, innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I have a few other surprises for you tonight, baby." Tony purrs, "Starting with this." He pulls a box out of his jacket pocket, slipping it into the 21-year-old's hands.

"Wha--" Peter opens the box, accidentally dropping the lid in surprise, "How did you--"

Tony smiles as the boy removes the necklace from the box, and looks at the charm. The little heart gem, brown like his eyes, sits with a tiny golden crown over it. The heart around the little gem meets at the crown reads "Peter" on one side and "Tony" on the other. It's perfect. He smiles as he shows Nat, Wanda, and Carol. All three coo and giggle with him. Thor wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders,  commenting on how the gift was a magnificent choice.

Peter drops the necklace into Tony's hand, smiling shyly. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, I just want you to help me put it on." Peter smiles and turns around.

Tony smiles at the boy's face and places the charm just beneath his collar bone and connects the clasp behind his head. The boy shivers at the feeling of his nails brushing his spine, and squeaks at the kiss pressed to the base of his head.

"I'm gonna go see what Bucky's doing up there..." He murmurs, "Meet you upstairs soon, princess?"

"U-Uhm... No!" His voice cracks, as it does when he panics, "I'll come and get you!"

Tony laughs, somewhere deep in his throat, and releases the boy, "Alright..." he draws out the 'i' sound, and then walks in the opposite direction of the team and his young boyfriend.

___

Once inside of their shared apartment, Peter looks at the lingerie he has laying on the bed. It all feels like too much, but he knows that his daddy will love it. The idea that Tony may tear the boyshorts sends tingles up his spine. With a deep breath, Peter begins stripping. First his T-shirt, then his jeans, and then his boxers. Carefully, he folds his clothes and places them in the hamper. "Mr Stark is going to love this."

He starts with the Miniskirt-boyshorts combo. Carefully sliding the lacey material up his thighs, making sure everything is covered enough to be teasing. Next, he rolls the little white fishnets up his legs, settling the band at his midthigh. It looks perfect. The bralette comes next. Tony hasn't ever seen him in one before, but he had tested the theory with photos from lingerie magazines left around their house. He always makes sure to leave them open on the men in the outfits, being sure that there is an emphasis on which one Peter likes. He has also varied the choices. From more masculine picks, like boxers and a tight tee, to more feminine picks like the outfit he's wearing now. Peter always notices that Tony lingers more when they're feminine selections than he does when they are masculine.

Silently, he hopes that Tony wouldn't realize the fact that the outfit doesn't fit right. His thighs have grown since he started working out for Spiderman. His hips have widened naturally, causing the rest of his body to change shape too. Clearly, this piece was meant for a female user, but he vows to keep it on, no matter the fact that the band at the base of the bralette touches his abs slightly higher than it does on the model. He will be okay. "Tony's gonna love it," he tells his reflection, making sure everything is perfect.

"Hey, Fri?" "Yes, Peter?"

"Can you turn on the reference photos I had you save earlier?"

"Sure, Peter." She lights up his mirror with all of the files that Peter had saved. Every photo of the pink eyeshadows, brown eyeliners and lipglosses lay against the mirror. He sighs, trying to mimic the photos of the models and coverboys. He fusses over it until his eyes look perfect. Pink eyeshadow, a little brown eyeliner and just enough lipgloss to make his lips look soft. Before leaving the room, he grabs a sheer black robe.

"Do I look too feminine?" he asks his reflection before walking out of the apartment. It was risky, sure. He could get caught, he could get kicked out, a lot of things could happen...

----

"Sir, everything is ready for you~" Peter calls, leaning against the wall, thin fingers playing with his new necklace.

Upon noticing that Bucky is sitting there as well, he yelps and wraps the black robe around his midriff, "Oh, sorry, Mr Barnes, sir! I didn't realize you were here!"

"It's okay, Peter. Also, remember how I told you to call me Bucky?" Bucky smiles, trying hard to look away.

"Right, sorry" Peter smiles at Tony's laugh, waiting for him to reason with him.

After what feels like forever Tony rises, patting Bucky's knee, "Right, I've gotta go take care of... that... Ahem... Don't stay up here pouting for too long, okay?" Bucky shrugs, causing Peter to smile sympathetically at him. He turns though when Tony begins heading towards him.

'Finally,' Peter thinks as Tony presses his thin body to the wall.

The inventor kisses him, "Did you see how hard of a time you were giving Barnes? He couldn't take his eyes off you. For a reason." Peter blushes, his cheeks dark pink as he hides his face in Tony's neck. "Aww, baby's shy~"

"Shush!!" He tries to sink inside the sheer material wrapped around his body. "Can we... Can we go upstairs, please?"

Tony laughs darkly, "Why, worried he'll hear your pretty noises, princess?" No matter how much Tony expected it, the nod Peter replies with catches him off guard, "What if he wants to?"

"Will you two go away!" Bucky laughs.

Tony laughs, chasing the young scientist down the hall, "Go. Go Go!" In the elevator, Tony nearly dies laughing, pushing the button repeatedly. "I swear, both of our lives flashed before my eyes right then."

"Oh yeah?" Peter smirks, "Are you scared, sir?"

"Of what? Do you think I'm scared of Barnes? No. Not anymore. I have no reason to be. He's dating one of my best friends!" Tony smiles sliding his arm around the younger's waist before leading him out of the elevator and into their apartment.

The moment that Peter's back hits the closed door, he knows the answer to his earlier suspicions. Tony won't stop staring at him, as though trying to decide just how he wants to take the boy apart. "So," Peter finally breaks the silence, "I'm guessing you like your surprise?"

Tony laughs breathlessly, "What gave you that impression?"

"Oh, I don't know, could it be the fact that you are looking at me like you want to eat me? Maybe the way you can't stop eye-fucking me? Or maybe it's the fact that you're --" Peter grabs Tony through his skinny jeans, "hard for me right now, Mr Stark." The younger takes his glossy bottom lip between his teeth, chewing the side seductively. "Fuck..." He whispers, hoping the other doesn't catch it. Tony's cock always felt so good in his hand. Heavy, hard, perfect.

"What was that, Petey?" He presses the spiderboy's body harder against the door, causing his grip to release, and his head to fall back. "I forget how fucking needy you get for me. So wanton just from touching my hardon through my jeans? That's a new level of easy." Peter shivers, a fruitless attempt at getting some sort of friction.

"Daddy..." He whines, trying to get his attention, but failing.

"You know, I could tell you were nervous to show me this, Princess. Were you worried I wouldn't like it?" He runs his hand down the young scientist's chest, teasing his nipples through the thin bralette, "Worried that I would think you look bad?" His hand continues its journey downwards, to the band of the micromini, "Were you worried that I would cast you out?" Peter nods silently, feeling called out. "Well, I wouldn't dream of it, Peter. You look amazing! I can't get past how delectable you look right now. This skirt looks perfect on you."

"Show me?" Peter asks, offhandedly. At that moment, Tony has never been more thankful for the wall of mirrors in their room. The inventor takes Peter's hand, pulling him down the hallway. "Where are we going?"

"You asked me to show you, baby." He replies when they enter the bedroom. "And I plan to stick to my word." Tony intertwines their fingers, pressing his hand to the back of Peter's. He takes his now open palms and places them on the mirror's glass surface. Afterwards, he taps the toe of his shoe against Peter's ankle softly, causing him to spread his feet. Streaks-be-damned, because nothing looks better than Peter does right now. The young Queens boy looks amazing, head down, hands spread on the mirror, and legs far enough apart that it causes him to stick his ass out to keep his balance, the small charm that marks Tony's ownership dangles between himself and his reflection. "Now, little spider," Tony growls in his ear, "look at yourself."

Peter raises his head and catches sight of their reflection. The whimper that tears from his throat sounds wrecked, needy. "W-woah." His flushed cheeks tint pink as his chest rises and falls, clearly turned on. Peter casts his glance down to his microskirt and catches sight of the precum already smearing across his lower stomach.

"Look how fucking needy you are, baby. Already desperate for my hands on your body?"

"Yes, Mr Stark."

"Where would you like them?" He asks, "Here?" Tony places his hands on the boy's waist as he begins kissing his neck from behind, licking the chain lightly.

"Yes, Mr Stark," Peter repeats, knowing what it does to the other man. He doesn't know when, but his eyes slip shut. About the same time, his breathing speeds up, causing his heart to pound.

"A-a-ah, Peter. I want you to keep eye contact with yourself. Watch your face as I take you apart."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Such a good boy, aren't you?" Tony asks as he sinks his teeth into the side of Peter's neck, leaving a perfectly angry ring of teeth divots behind.  A shiver wracks Peter's body. "Oh, you liked that? You like when daddy sinks his teeth into your neck, marking you as his?" The boy nods, pushing his ass back into Tony's crotch. "Fuck, Peter, don't."

"Don't what, sir?" Peter feigns innocence, "Do this?" he presses back again, grinding his ass harder. "Does that turn you on?" his voice sounds mocking, as though he's trying to feel bad for him, but it's more fun to laugh, "Pity, you look so pretty like that."

"Where's that confidence coming from, Peter?" Tony asks as his fingers trace over the younger's throat, touching the bite mark he'd previously made. His other hand continues its venture down Peter's body, pressing in some places and scratching in others. At his mid-thigh, Tony stops. "These are the best part of this whole look, baby boy." He snaps the band of the fishnets against Peter's thigh, causing him to gasp.

"Mr Stark, please!" He begs, pressing again, trying to get the dom to crack. "I just need you to... Please!" His voice cracks as he begs, the comments coming out ragged.

"God, Princess, I haven't even gotten you undressed and you're already whimpering for me. May I take this off, baby?" He asks, snapping the back band of the bralette. Peter squeaks, arching towards the mirror, nodding. Tony smiles, satisfied with the response, "Off." With the single statement, Peter's scrambling to get the fabric off of his body. "Skirt too." Peter follows orders, stripping in front of the mirror, maintaining eye contact with Tony's reflection. "Fuck, baby. We may have to do the mirror thing another day."

"What's wrong, daddy? Struggling to keep your cool just because your baby stripped?" Peter smirks, grinding back. Tony's nails drag across his abdomen, leaving thin red tracks in their place. "Please, daddy."

"Please. Please what?" Tony struggles out, "What do you want? Wanna show off for me? Or do you want daddy to get you off while you watch yourself? Hm? Because after we do that, I plan to fucking rail you into the bed," He growls.

"All of it, please daddy! Whatever you want, just wanna cum for you!" He whines, all of his snarkiness melting away. "Please, I wanna be good for you! Please, please, please!"

"How's this?" Tony walks the two backwards, before sinking to the floor. "C'mon, little boy, sit down with me." Peter nods, sitting with his back to Tony's chest, leaning against him. Tony leans back against the bed, sliding his hand back between the other's legs.

"C-can you take your shirt off, daddy?" Peter murmurs, already beyond wrecked.

"What?" He asks, leaning his head over the boy's shoulder.

"C-can you take off your shirt, daddy, please?" He asks again, trying to raise his voice.

Tony chuckles, "Sure, little one." the inventor strips off the AC/DC Tee he'd been working in, smiling at how quickly Peter leans back against him.

"Like feeling you everywhere." He murmurs, nestling back against Tony's scarred chest. Tony smiles, kissing his neck and shoulder. His mechanic's fingers creep along Peter's inner thigh, appreciating how he shivers, how his hips jump when Tony's fingers finally touch his dick. "Pretty baby boy. Look at yourself." Peter picks his head up off of Tony's shoulder, opening his eyes, staring at himself in the mirror just a few meters from them. "God, baby."

Tony slides his hand down the other's shaft, playing with the vein, and the underside of the tip. "Play with my nipples, daddy, please!" Peter begs, arching up when his other hand slides up to pinch at his little pink nubs. The younger whimpers helplessly, watching his cock twitch and his chest wrack with each little shiver. "Please, more!" Tony drops the boy's dick, moving his fingers down past his balls ghosting them just underneath, pressing on his perineum. He gasps, moaning.

"Can you get the lube for me, baby? Out of the drawer right there?" Peter nods wordlessly, reaching up to the drawer, whimpering at the loss of Tony's warmth. "Thank you." He murmurs, taking the bottle. "Come sit back against me, Peter. It's time I give you your rightful attention."

After a bit of scuffling and whining, Peter's got fingers back on his nipple and thighs. "Please, just... I need your fingers, daddy."

"You have them. Just not where you want them. Isn't that right, baby?" Peter nods, trying to move his hips. He attempts to work his hands downwards, hoping that at least one will end up on his hole.

"What's the jerking for, baby? Is there something you want?"

"Y-your fingers."

"Clearly but where?" Tony growls, popping open the lube and squirting some on his fingers.

"Here!" Peter grabs his wrist, dragging his lubed fingers down to his core, trying to get the point across.

"Aw, are you wanting daddy to finger you?"

"Yes, please, Mr Stark!" He begs, trying to push the fingers inside of himself.

"Alright. First things first, this" He grabs Peter's hip and pulls him back against him, "has got to stop. You may be a slut, but you /are not/ a whore. Quit. Fucking. Acting. Like. It." Tony pushes his forefinger into his asshole, causing Peter to melt against him. "What's your safeword, baby?" Tony asks, working the finger in.

"I-it's red." He gasps, pressing down onto Tony's finger, "M-More!" Tony presses a second finger to his hole, pushing it into the fluttering ring carefully. "Such a good boy for me." Peter whimpers at the praise, silently begging for a third finger. Tony grants the wish, pushing a third finger alongside the other two. "I--'m close, sir!" Peter begs, "Please, let me cum!"

"Why should I? You look so good like this."

"Please! I can't wait any longer!" he whimpers, little broken mewls slip from his mouth as precum pools at the head of his cock. "Daddy!" he gasps, trying to plead with Tony's reflection.

"Look at yourself, Baby. Watch daddy's little slut in the mirror. Watch how he falls apart, crying my name. I wanna watch you beg, princess."

"Please, daddy?" He tries, knowing good and well that it's not enough, "I'll be so good for you!"

"More."

"Please, daddy! Please! Please! Please!" Peter whimpers, jutting his hips up into the air, hoping for some sort of release. "Please, Mr Stark, it feels so good!"

"Fuck, Peter," Tony growls, biting at his neck. "Cum for me. But do not break eye contact. "

With a final broken whimper, Peter releases. "Thank you, daddy!" He presses against the man's hands, whining at the overstimulation, "Thank you, daddy."

"Don't thank me yet, princess. Now, it's time for your real present."

[soyforramen]

Anyways, here’s part one Sunday:

It had been seven long years away from the only home he’d ever known.  Away from the heartache and death and depravity.  Seven years in the real world, where parents didn’t try and kill their kids; where drugs weren’t rampant on the streets; where people didn’t pretend like their small town hadn’t descended into corruption years ago.  Seven years to mend and try to heal from the scars this place had carved out of his flesh.

Archie looked through the windshield at the sun clawing through the sky, steam rising from the river below to cover Sweetwater Bridge in an ominous fog.  He wanted to turn back, put his back to this hell hole of a town.  After everything they’d been through, after all the pain, grief, and heartache, they both swore they’d never go back.  Riverdale was no longer theirs, if it ever had been.  It’s innocence had long been dragged down under the dark, rushing currents, taking their youth with it.

But, as Romeo Void always said, never say never.

He glanced over at Betty, still curled up in the passenger seat asleep, and wondered.  What would have happened all those years ago if he had said yes to her?  If he’d lied, and said he loved her the same, would they have ended up like his parents?  Separated by half a country, filled with bittersweet memories and regrets of what they could have been?  Or would they have turned into her parents, forcing a smile, married with kids and miserable, the perfect couple to everyone but themselves?

It didn’t matter.  Not really.  One what if lead to a thousand, each a domino lined up against the others, ready to topple a mountain with a simple touch.

They were here now.  Together.  And that’s the only thing that could matter right now.

Archie pulled the visor down to block out the sun and turned the old Ford’s engine over - newly rebuilt by his traveling companion - and pulled onto the old wooden bridge.

Back to where they’d started.

It was strange to see one’s childhood, once so precious and simple, changed so completely.  The old Southside High was now littered with shops selling cheap tourist t-shirts and even cheaper urban legends.  Sunnyside Park had been forgotten altogether, now nothing more than a run down jungle of rust and flora, a faded ‘For Sale’ sign crying out for salvation.  And they gym, the one he’d risked his life -

- and those kids’ - god he’d been so stupid - nothing had been worth that, especially not his pride what had he -

- had been converted to a used car lot, Reggie’s face beaming out from an overly large billboard with blinding veneers and thinning hair.

Pop’s was the only thing that hadn’t changed, its neon light guiding him home, still a beacon to wayward travelers in need of a place to call home.  Wary of the woman asleep beside him, Archie kept driving.  His weren’t the only memories he had to be careful of disturbing.  This return was hard on the both of them -

- Memories can take you back, home sweet home, You can never go home anymore -

- a necessary strain on the future of their relationship.  They’d stayed up for months arguing about it, voices raised and doors slammed.  She claimed it was necessary for her future; he disavowed the past in that place.  They’d both lost their parents; their youth; their innocence; their sanity there.  Neither wanted to admit how badly they needed to stay away.

He didn’t want to admit how badly he needed to return.

It didn’t matter, in the end.  He knew it was a fight he’d end up losing.  A twenty round TKO with determination like hers.  Nothing could dissuade her from going; nothing could keep him from going with her.  Because it was Betty who was asking him.  Betty his lifelong friend; his soulmate; his other half.  The one person who knew him inside and out.  He’d only ever told her no once in his life, and it had broken both their hearts so badly it had taken half a decade to heal.

Kintsugi, she told him when they’d come back together again.  Mending things with gold so the scars never went away.  Instead, they were made more beautiful by having survived the break.  

“That’s the last of it,” Archie said, his breath coming quick.  

With a clang, he set down the last box - a mishmash of utensils, pots, and pans.  They’d lived minimally for so long it was routine to load everything up into the bed of the Ford.  Military transfers had convinced Archie he really only needed a change of close, a pen, and a piece of paper to make it through.  Betty, though, had taken the opposite tack and had her entire lifestyle planned out to the minute.

“The furniture should be dropped off tomorrow afternoon, if we’re lucky.”  He stretched his arms up to hang his hands on the doorframe and watched as she moved to the newest box.

“Portland all over again,” Betty said.  

She cut into the packing tape, her hands constantly on the move.  Nesting, she’d once called it.  Settling into a new space and making it hers as quickly as possible.  Every where else, she’d been able to relax upon arriving.  But here every movement held a nervous, frayed energy.  He worried what would happen when she ran out of things to do.

Betty had been quiet since yesterday, refusing to leave the house until everything was settled.  Distracted by unpacking she barely acknowledged him.  Every call was sent to voicemail, each text left on read.  He’d had to prompt her throughout the day to eat.  

Ever since they’d arrived, her eyes had been haunted, trapped in the past.  No doubt reliving every moment and analyzing what she could have done differently.

Archie reached for her when she passed him.  Betty went rigid, but relaxed as he smoothed down the stray hairs that had come loose from her ponytail.  They’d talked about this.  About how easily she got stuck in the eddies of memories, her streams of thoughts unable to sweep her back to the present.  It was how her mind worked, the lines of thought etched deep into the ground with time and practice.  Just as he had to focus on the present to make it through, she had to relive the past to move to the future.

She slipped her arms around him, her fingers worrying at the fabric.  In times like these she likened him to her anchor in the storm.  Archie never saw himself as that; she was too strong to ever really need anyone.  Time had proven that.

“Pop’s for dinner?”

Betty shook her head, her hair tickling his nose.  “I can’t.  Not yet.”

He kissed her on the forehead and they rocked together a moment, a primitive soothing gesture for the both of them.

“But I could do with take out.”

For all the things that had changed, at least the bell above Pop’s door was still there.  Everything else - the formica tables, the jukebox, the old Polaroid's - had all disappeared, replaced by the same modern kitsch found in every other family restaurant across the country.

“Eating in?”

Archie turned to find a young woman standing in front of him, an apron around her hips.  She was dressed all in black, with nothing to distinguish her from her patrons.  It was dizzying, this old imposed on the new.

- the more things change, the more they stay the same, we shouldn’t have come, this isn’t for us -

“Picking up, for Andrews.”

She nodded and turned to the line of plastic bags behind her as soft jazz played above him.

First days were always hard.  Never knowing what to expect, Archie never felt as if he was enough.  That he’d fooled everyone into thinking he was capable enough to do the job.  Once push came to shove, though, he’d trip over his own feet and show the world just how useless he really was.  A disappointment to the end.

The first day of school - the iguana got loose and wrecked the cafeteria.  The first day of football - half the team were sent home with broken bones.  The first day of training camp - half the squad were lost in the woods.  The first day out in the field -

- oh god raj, the blood, i’m so sorry, it should have been me, where’s the medic, the blood, stop th-

“Andrews?”

Archie blinked the sun out of his eyes, back in front of the fire station.  Its sign gleamed bright in the morning sun, washing away the dark memories.  Forcing a grin, he turned only for his grin to blossom into a genuine smile.

“Mad Dog?”

They embraced, arms tight around each other, laughing, saying everything words never could.  Archie had lost touch with almost everyone but Betty after high school, friends drifting away on the currents of time and distance.  Every now and then he’d hear about weddings and babies, deaths and divorces.  Each a tragedy in their own way, celebrations he’d never know of.

He’d never truly regretted any of them, at least not until Munroe was in front of him again.

“Man, I haven’t heard that name in years,” Munroe said.  He stepped back, hands still clasped around Archie’s shoulders.  “What graces you upon my door?  Don’t tell me you remembered about that twenty dollars I owe you.  Last I heard you were slumming it up in San Francisco.”

Archie laughed at the (in)accuracy of it.  “Riverdale was in need of a new fire captain, and for some reason Sheriff Keller thought of me.”

“Chief Keller, Red,” Munroe said with wink.  “Old man gets testy when you forget.  Maybe seeing the prodigal son return will lighten his mood a bit.”

The warm feeling of home, the one he’d almost forgotten entirely, returned easily, a rising tide that almost made this trip worth it.  Archie threw an arm around Munroe’s shoulders as they walked into the firehouse.

“Good day at work?” Betty asked.

She handed him a bowl of ice cream - Neopolitan - and tucked herself against his side, her own half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream in her other hand.  In return he tucked an old knitted throw around them and turned the tv volume down.

“Yeah, really good actually.  You?”

Betty dug out a chuck of ice cream too big for the spoon, and bit half of it.

“That bad?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled through the mouthful.

“No questions?”

She shook her head.  “No questions.”

The sounds of a muted space battle filled the silence around them.  Sometime between when the movie ended and the next began, Betty fell asleep against him, her empty ice cream carton tucked against her side like a teddy bear.  It was a moment of normalcy he’d been afraid to lose.  Domesticity in all its comforts.

He knew it wouldn’t last.  It couldn’t, not here.  Normal was a smokescreen, ebbing and flowing among the darkness that fueled this town.  Solving one small case couldn’t fix that.  They both knew that.

But it was nice to pretend it could.

A few minutes past midnight, Archie cradled Betty into his arms and took her to bed.  When he knew she was settled, he shut the door behind him and went to his own room.

“No.  Fuckin’. Way,” one of the probationaries said, his mouth hanging wide.  “You two were vigilantes? Like The Red Circle?”

Archie blushed and looked away, uncomfortable with how close he was.  Munroe, though, smiled, revealing in the shock and awe he could procure.  

“And this one,” he jerked his thumb at Archie, “wore spandez.”

“We both wore spandex,” Archie reminded him.

“You realize that’s worse, right?” Chief Keller, nee Sheriff Keller, said as he walked into the break room.

A half-dozen chairs hit the floor at once as the probates stood quickly.  A snicker cut through and soon the whole room was cracking up.  Archie smiled, not knowing what else to do other than scrum under all this attention.  He’d been stupid enough -

- so stupid, why hadn’t anyone stopped him, he was just a kid, jesus they were all kids, what the hel-

- and the last thing he wanted to be remembered for was wearing spandex.

“Alright, now that we’ve broken in the new guy,” Keller said.  He poured himself a cup of coffee, taking his time to scrutinize the room.  “Sanchez, Gilbert, Edison.  You’re on rotation for fire safety training at the school.  Pickens, Cho - Mrs. Green need help with that damned ramp of hers.  If I have to listen one more time to how she can’t get her wheelchair over those rotten out boards I’m giving her your personal numbers.  Andrews, Munroe - Sheriff wants somebody to look over a small fire at the old Twilight.  Probably nothing, but they need a stamp of approval for an insurance payout.”

Groans came from the younger firefighters, but they didn’t hesitate to get a move on.  In less than a minute the break room had emptied, leaving Munroe and Archie to bring up the rear.

“Just like the gym, huh?” Munroe asked as they followed Cho into the parking lot.

“Only better trained,” Archie replied.

Munroe unlocked an old white suburban, R.F.D. written along the side in bright red and gold letters.  On their way to the Twilight, Munroe pointed out the little things that had happened in Archie’s absence - new residents, car accidents; minor high school pranks, major vandalism; and one case of a loose alpaca.  All small town quirks that hit Archie with a sudden homesickness.  

Despite all the bad that had taken root here, it seemed there was still life in this town.

Munroe parked near the old projection booth, now nothing more than a few loose boards held up by a decade of graffiti.  He reached behind the seat and pulled out a pair of boxing gloves.  

“One more for old time’s sake?”

Archie took them from him, the oily, cracked leather like old friends.  On the cuff was the El Royale logo, faded almost to nothing in some places.  A choking sensation rose up in his throat and he had to swallow hard.  Of all the things to keep, and Munroe had unknowingly chosen the only thing from Riverdale Archie still held close to his heart.

“You’re on.”

“I saw him yesterday,” Betty mumbled when Archie woke up that Saturday.  “He had a woman with him.”

She spun a spoon through her soggy Cheerios, eyes dark and downcast.  From the sweatshirt and slacks she worse Archie knew it had been another all-nighter.  Betty also had an obsessive drive when it came to work, but this was going too far.  Not for the first time he wondered whether her insistence on taking this case was a way to gain experience and attention, or whether it was just another way for her to prove - to herself or to him - that she was over it.  Over them.  

Over that two syllable word that hadn’t been spoken in years.

It cut deep to see her like this.  And Archie didn’t know if he could pick her up off the floor again, if he’d be able to put together all those pieces that had shattered years ago.  He’d lost so many pieces, filled her with so much gold, that he was afraid that there wouldn’t be enough to keep her together for a second time.

“When was the last time you slept?”

She shrugged and dipped the spoon back into her milk.  Like a child Betty lifted it up only to watch it rain down again.

Archie sighed and picked up the coffee pot.  He’d been against her going into the FBI from the start, and he’d said as much when she’d been accepted into the Academy.  She had her own trauma to deal with.  And working on some of the worst cases - kidnappings, murders, rapes - was too close to reality for her.  

That was a lesson he’d learned the hard way.

But this was Betty, after all, the most self-assured, stubborn person he knew, determined to prove she was stronger than the white-noise of the past, desperate to push memories just past the edge of consciousness. And now they were back in this place tinted by the ghosts of their past.

“Betty -“

“I’m fine, Archie,” she snapped.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  The last thing either of them needed was another blow-up.  

“Look, the cookout’s today.  How about we eat junk food and watch that awful movie channel you like so much?”

Betty frowned, her lip pursed in a way he knew he’d won.  At least it wasn’t that awful, plastic smile of hers, the one she’d spent hours perfecting in the mirror when they were eight.  

“Fine, but only if you get wontons and dumplings.”

“And who is this lovely lady?” Cho asked.

Betty turned, the picture of suburban perfection she’d been raised to be, and held out her hand.  “Betty Cooper.”

Cho’s eyebrows lifted in delight and they bowed over her hand to kiss it.  “Teddy Cho, at your service.”

Their eyes met Archie’s, and he shook his head at the unasked question.  Betty bit her lip at the exchange, tickled at Cho’s obvious interest.  With a grin, Cho lead her towards the rest of the probates, their arms linked together as he tried out one of his new jokes on her.

Munroe handed Archie a cold beer as he walked up.  “The All-American couple.  You two are a big hit tonight.”

Archie shot him a confused look, and Munroe nodded towards Betty.

“No, we’re not…” Archie stammered, finally realizing how it looked when they showed up together.  “That’s….”

How did one explain what they were?  Friends, more-than-friends-but-less-than, family, what-if’s, drunk and lonely nights spend on the sofa, thank-god-we-never-did,-wouldn’t-that-be-so-weird?

“Funny, I would have pegged the two of you as a couple.”

“You and a bunch of other people.  But it’s not for us.”

Archie took a sip of his beer, a cool relief from the lingering hot summer sun.  The sounds of the barbecue brought back memories of his own childhood, memories of better times when his family wasn’t broken, when his father…

- mr. andrews, regardless of what you continue to think, none of what happened to your father was your fau-

Neighborhood cookouts were kids played long after dark, and dads drank beer and shot the shit about football while moms talked small town politics.  It would be nice to go back to this, he realized with a start.  Only this time he was part of the older group, a single man in a swathe of couples enjoying their lives for one more day before the return of the inevitable Monday morning grind.

“So, got a girl back home?” Munroe asked.  He sat down in one of the lawn chairs and kicked his feet up, the picture of American prosperity.  “You keep checking that phone a lot while we’re at the station.  I just figured out it was Betty, but now…”

Archie shook his head and settled in on the grass.  “Nah, nothing like that.  Last time I dated anyone was almost a year ago, and he’s been married almost two months now.”

Munroe raised an eyebrow, a question that could easily be side stepped, ignored as nothing more than a muscular tic.  After all, it had once been an El Royal running joke that Archie was the Casanova of the group, the one who could jump from one woman to the next without a beat between.  Munroe especially had given him the hardest time about it, constantly throwing out bad pickup lines for Archie to rate.  It was that strange sort of camaraderie only a group of men, posturing and posing, their masculinity fragile at that age, that needed to be reassured in their ability to pickup barbells and broads.

But Archie had never been uncomfortable with Munroe.  He’d always been the most easy going, non-judgemental man he’d ever met.  And besides, he owed him a sort of honesty, now that they relied on each other in the grips of life and death.

“Jake wanted kids, marriage, the whole thing.  Only once we dated for three years, he realized he wanted it with someone else.”

Munroe let out a whistle.  “Harsh.

Archie nodded.  They finished their beers in silence, moving onto the next one with talk about college rankings and score spreads, the mood still light between them.

“So…”

Betty let the words hang in the air, that gleam of curiosity in her eye.  Archie ignored her and turned onto Old Ash Road, the radio crooning an old country ballad about love, loss, and whiskey.  He made the mistake of glancing over at her and she fluttered her eyelashes in expectation.  

“So?”

“You and Munroe seemed pretty cozy.”

“You and Cho seemed pretty cozy too,” he shot back.

Betty’s lips pursed and she settled back into her seat with a pout.  “I was being nice since you didn’t seem too keen on hanging out with your coworkers.”

“I hung out with them.  Hahn and I played cornhole for an hour with Roxie and -“

“Munroe.”

Betty echoed him with a pointed look.  

“It’s been over a year, don’t you think you should -“

Archie shook his head.  “We agreed.  We’re here as long as you’re working on the case.  No roots.”

“Yeah, but -“

“We’re friends, and it’s going to stay that way.”

She chewed her lip, her mind going a mile a minute.  He’d have to be wary of any of her scheming, especially now that he knew Jughead was back in town.  Meddling in other people’s lives had always been Betty’s go to to get her mind off of her own problems, and while it had been worked out in the past now there was no way it would ever work.

It would be nice, though, to have someone like Munroe to date while he was in town.  But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them, not when Archie was dead set on leaving Riverdale the minute Betty's work was done.

After all, it had been Munroe he’d turned to in highschool, whether he needed help or just wanted to shoot the shit.  He’d been the second person Archie had wanted to spend time with, after Ronnie, of course.  Their bond had always been close, and it was more than just a bond formed through shitty circumstances.  They watched the same movies, loved the same sports, and Munroe could argue musical theory like no one’s business.  

So why couldn’t they at least be friends while he was in town?