#Sorry this drawing is so messy this was just meant to be a quick little sketch.

[unawaredrunkard]

Leo often has a habit of running of which isn't great at all when you have a bunch of krang and the occasional bandit wandering about. It lands them in all sorts of trouble. Donnie has a tracker on all of the cause of this.

[bunni-v1]

how do you think lighter would handle the reader after learning it is going to be their first time aka a virgin reader x lighter

Lighter and Virgin!Reader

🍓Yayay! I wanted to really take my time to write this one, so sorry that I didn't get it out super quick. Wrote it while listening to Christmas music btw, probably gonna write smth smutty for Christmas now. I've never written full-on smut outside of an RP setting so... apolocheese if this is cringe. You can throw tomatoes at me, I will eat them like the rodent I am.

Minors DNI

TW: NSFW; First time!; sickeningly sweet lighter; grammar errors probably lol (I promise I edit my stuff).

Info: Lighter x Reader; Nsfw; Fluffy; no pronouns but reader is fem bodied

Lighter is, and always has been, a rather simple man. While he loves you and respects you more than anything in the world, he too has thoughts that any man might have. It was only natural that he found you... mmm... titillating. You were his partner after all, and you were very good-looking if you asked him.

So many times he's found you on his lap, or beneath him whichever comes easiest at the time, drowning in your sweet lips. His hands wandered over your clothed sides, desperate for a taste of the real thing. He was addicted to you, and sweet candies couldn't placate him this time. It was heavenly having you in his grasp, so very close to everything he'd been dreaming about.

The only issue was that you always seemed to have some excuse to push him away. He'd fisted his cock one too many times alone in his room after another failed encounter, and he just didn't get it. You always seemed so eager, so pliant, right up until he slid his hands below your shirt.

The second his fingers made contact with the soft, oh-so-tempting skin there you would jump like he'd burned you. Then you'd push his eager hands down and come up with some lame reason to leave. He understood that maybe you weren't ready, that was okay, but didn't you feel safe enough to tell him? No, surely something else was going on. He could tell, there was something else that was holding you back, and he was going to figure it out.

Tonight would be the perfect chance to do just that. The girls were busy doing their own thing at the bar, leaving him with all the free time in the world to be alone with you. As usual, he had you on his lap, mouths working against each other. His tongue pressed into yours, happily exploring its space as he swallowed up your whimpers and whines.

Fingers press into your thighs like a vice, desperate for all the skin they can get their hands on. As you wind your fingers into his hair, he takes it as his sign to slide his hands up to your hips, slowly pressing you down into him. You jolt a little in his grasp, drawing a low chuckle from the back of his throat. So cute.

You pull back from him, a thin string of saliva keeping you connected, eyes wide and face flushed. Your chest heaves with effort, and your hair is an absolute disaster. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans, another gasp falling from your pretty swollen lips at the sensation.

"Lighter..." You say breathlessly, and he knows its meant to be a scolding remark, but he just finds it too cute.

He cocks his head to the side, "What? Too much to handle?"

You give him an eye roll that is all too endearing, trying and failing to straighten out your messy hair, "It's getting late, I should probably head to mine soon."

His smile falls from his face, disappointed again, like clockwork. He can't even find it in himself to hide it anymore, which makes you frown too. You press a kiss on his cheek, apologetically, "What's wrong? Why is my champion pouting?"

The pet name is almost enough to get him to forget everything, but then you shift on his lap a little and his hard-on screams at him to at least get some kind of answer. So he sighs, patting the meat of your thigh almost sadly, "Why do you always do that?"

You raise an eyebrow, which he mirrors. You know better than to play dumb, Lighter can see right through the schtick. Your demeanor cracks first, and you seem genuinely nervous as you respond, "I don't know..."

"Listen, baby. If you're not ready all you gotta do is tell me--" He tries to soothe you, because he doesn't want you to be upset. There was no shame in just not being ready, but you cut him off before he can finish his reassurances.

"No, it's not-" A grumble leaves your chest, "I want to, I really do I just... I get nervous."

It's his turn to raise an eyebrow at you, sunglasses slanting down his nose as he tilts his head curiously, "What's there to be nervous about...?"

You fluster, looking anywhere your eyes can find that wasn't him. You were awfully cute when you were embarrassed, but he couldn't let himself get distracted. With the gentlest touch to your chin, he refocuses your attention on him. A reassuring smile on his face, urging you without words to tell him what was wrong.

Some kind of war goes on behind your pretty little eyes, and he has to tap your lip with his thumb to center you again. You pout against the finger, and it takes everything in him not to push it up and into your mouth. Finally, after what seemed like ages of waiting, you give another sigh. "I'm... a virgin."

"Oh," he says, automated like a robot. It takes his brain a moment to click the gears together, but once they do, he nods. Oh. That makes so much sense.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, pressing off his chest to get up, but he tugs you back into his lap. Giving you a reassuring squeeze, praying to whatever there was out there for you to give him a moment to collect his thoughts.

It really isn't a big deal to him, not at all. He'd taken people's virginity before - former partners he doesn't even remember the names of - but you. Getting to be your first? It felt like the world had both blessed and cursed him at the same time. You didn't have a good frame of reference, which was great. He'd be the best partner you've had. Yet... he'd also be the only partner you've had, and that was a lot of pressure to put on a guy like him.

"Lighter?" You squeak out, face all nervous and cute in a way that just drives him wild.

A huff leaves him before he can think better of it, causing you to frown a little. His arms wrap around your middle, tugging you closer to him, "That's all? Here you had me thinking you weren't attracted to me all of a sudden."

The response takes you off guard, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Had you genuinely thought that would be a turn-off for him? What do you take him for, some prude? "I- I mean, you know... I don't have any experience, and I figured since... since you had it would just-"

He hushes you, trying his best not to laugh at how ridiculous the thought is. Most guys would leap to be in his shoes, it was a loser's wet dream to take some innocent angel like you and ruin you. Not Lighter, though. Despite how many times he'd fucked his hand thinking about your pretty little body, he would make sure your first time was perfect. He really needed it to be perfect.

"I don't care about that, baby." There's a teasing lilt in his tone that sends shockwaves down your spine, "I just want you to be happy."

It was your turn to be dumbfounded, staring at him like he had spoken forbidden texts in tongues you didn't understand. He tilts your head with the hand still holding your chin, and it's incredibly sexy the way his sunglasses dip a little so you can see the genuineness in his eyes.

"Would it make you happy if I took your virginity?" You give a slow, dumb nod, and he presses closer, "Do you wanna try tonight?"

Lighter watches with thinly veiled amusement as the pieces slip into place for you, face so warm he could feel it at this distance. You seem to have stalled a bit, so he gives you an award-winning smile and taps your lips to remind you to use them.

"Yes. Please." You blurt out, and it's so incredibly unsexy and awkward, but he still bites his lip like you were sex incarnate.

He gives you all but three seconds to admire the (so, so incredibly hot) look on his face before he's picking you up with no effort, hands wrapped under the swell of your ass like they were made to be there. You cling to his shoulders like a lifeline, and his cock strains in his stupidly tight jeans as he imagines you doing so without the jacket between your skin.

"Where are we going?" You ask, voice uneasy.

He smirks at you, "You didn't seriously think I was gonna let your first time be on some dingy outdoor couch, did you?"

You're silent all the way to his quarters after that, warm face buried into the crook of his shoulder. He can feel how nervous you are in the shaky breaths you let puff out onto his neck. He gives your butt a reassuring pat, which only makes you burrow yourself further into his neck.

He doesn't get to see your face again until he carefully lies you on his bed, and he's glad for it too. The nervous shimmer in your eyes would've been enough for him to bend you over any surface in a heartbeat. Your teeth nibble awkwardly on your swollen bottom lip, and he resists the urge to take it in between his own, instead busying his hands with shrugging off his jacket so he doesn't do exactly that.

You look near terrified when he climbs on top of you, so leans down to kiss your forehead, and in the gentlest voice he can muster whispers, "We'll go slow, but we gotta take our clothes off if we wanna do anything, m'kay?"

You give him a slow nod, slowly drifting your eyes down to his tight-fitting t-shirt. Once you seem to calm a little, he leans down and starts right where you left off. Capturing your lips in a soft kiss, slowly easing back into the passion from earlier. His hips press into yours, but they remain still against your heat. He would let you decide when you were ready for that again.

His hands eagerly slid around your thighs, squeezing the fat between his fingers and sighing as they sank against his touch. Always so malleable, it was addictive, but he couldn't get ahead of himself. This was all about you, after all.

Slowly, he inched his digits up to the edge of your shirt, pooling the fabric between them. You give a little jolt, pressing against his crotch a little harder than he expected drawing a hiss from between his teeth. He rubs his nose against yours, "Can we get rid of your shirt?"

Another slow, unsure nod, and he's easing you up just enough that he can tug the offending fabric up and out of the way. (No bra, thank god, he sucks at removing them.) The sight it reveals better than Lighter could've begun to imagine. Your chest rises and falls with your breath, mesmerizing him. You give him an unsure smile, nodding your head along with it, and he thinks he might genuinely die tonight.

He does not suddenly go into cardiac arrest, so instead his hands glide over your stomach, and it's everything he dreamed of and more. The skin is like heaven beneath his calloused fingertips, and the light whimpers and whines you give him are honey in his ears. You shift with every touch, jerking away and then easing into his touch. Unsure, but oh so willing and wanting.

He maps out each inch of your skin like he might lose his way exploring it, tracing all the way to the final destination of your chest. Your nipples are hard already in combination with his touching and the cold air around you. He gives you one last look, one last chance to tell him no, and then he runs his thumb over the tops of them.

The sound you make is delicious, something between a moan and a strangled choking noise -- almost confused at the pleasure you are feeling. He rolls them in his fingers a few times, watching your face intently as he does so. Your confused moans melt into sighs of contentment, so he decides to try his luck with his mouth. With your head rolled back, he ensures you can feel his breath before he presses his tongue to your skin.

You shoot up, gasping in surprise, but you don't make any move to push him away. No, instead you rake your fingers through his hair, pushing his shaggy bangs back so you can really look at him. Those emerald eyes lock with yours, making a show of slowly kissing his way back up to your chest. Along the contours of your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, and finally right down to your perky bud.

Lighter takes a moment to really appreciate just how nice it looks up close, rather than through the fabric of your tank tops. Just the perfect size for sucking on, he thinks right before he engulfs the needy thing in his mouth. You throw your head back, chest hefting with your cry of "Fuck, Lighter."

He hums, only making it so much worse for you, the vibrations sending a shock through your body that makes you twist your hips just right. He takes his sweet time with your breasts, alternating between the two until you're a messy puddle below him. He hadn't even gotten past the waistband of your pants yet, and you were already so far gone. It was an ego booster, to say the least.

His free hand draws its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your pants. They dance their way along your abdomen, just itching to be let in, but not willing to disrespect your boundaries. Lucky for him, they don't have to wait long, and your own join him and carefully aid him in their removal.

It's then that he finally gives your chest a break, pulling back to tug your pants down your legs. Giving himself the time to finally admire you. He'd left... more than a few purple marks along your chest, all of which he thinks look incredibly nice in the light of the moon. His eyes trace their way down your stomach, just like his hands had, and land on the underwear you still had on.

They weren't particularly cutesy or sexy, but on you, it was the hottest thing he'd seen in years. They had a sizable wet spot in the middle, right where he wanted- no, needed to be. The only thing standing between him and tasting you was that thin piece of fabric.

A tug at the hem of his shirt draws him out of his daze, meeting eyes with your cute, nervous ones. It takes him a second to realize you wanted his shirt off, but once he gets the message, he wastes no time in shrugging it to the ground. Following it with his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

Your eyes trace their way along his figure, over his shoulders, across his stomach, and settle shyly on the outline of his dick. It only occurs to him then that you might find him just as attractive as he finds you. With eyes blown wide and distracted as you drink him all in, it's hard to avoid how much you're admiring the view right now.

He has the decency to act embarrassed, despite how he was practically drooling all over you just a few moments ago. He shivers when you reach up and trace your fingers over a scar, breath catching in his throat. "They're so pretty," you mutter, completely unaware that you had said that out loud. It could honestly make him cry. The way you look at him like he's some kind of art piece. So much love and admiration in your eyes. He can't handle it for long, even though you seem to be content just admiring his scars.

He grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he presses you back into the mattress. You let out a huff as he pressed his forehead to yours, pouting now that he had interrupted your show. He gives you a few apologetic kisses, smiling at your pouting.

"Are you sure you wanna keep going, we can stop now if you want," he whispers, soft and gentle.

You nod, confident this time, "I'm ready. I wanna do this with you, Lighter. Not anyone else."

That makes his heart swell, sending the feeling right down to his dick, throbbing and reminding him he needs to prepare you. He wasn't usually one to brag, but he knew he was big, and it would be a tough take for your first time. If he wanted you to enjoy it, he'd have to take care to loosen you up first.

"Okay," he hums, reaching over to grab the lube and condoms from his nightstand, setting them nearby for when he needs it, "I'm gonna have to loosen you up first, and it's gonna hurt. You sure you can take it?"

He feels your muscles contract as he trails gentle, feather-light pecks along the edge of your underwear. "You'll take care of me, just like you always do..." Ah, you were gonna be the death of him tonight, he just knows it.

He hooks his fingers over the sides of your underwear, carefully tugging them down your legs like unwrapping a present he didn't want to ruin. What a gift he received as he threw the useless fabric to the floor, your pretty little cunt already drooling for him.

"God..." He mutters out, enchanted at the very sight. He adjusts his position one last time, making sure he is perfectly positioned in front of your gorgeous pussy. The view is something straight out of a porno, Lighter's messy hair shadowing his eyes as they stare into your very being, big hands gripping at your thighs -- like he was readying himself to consume you whole.

"You ready, baby?" He asks one last time, though it's painfully hard to do so now that he was literally right where he wanted to be, "Cause if you're not you better say so now, I don't think I could stop myself once I start, angel."

You give him the slowest nod known to man, followed by a timid little 'yes' and he's gone. His strong arms wrap under and rest atop your thighs, carefully pulling your folds apart to reveal the shining pearl he'd been dreaming of. Involuntarily he huffs out a hot breath, causing you to squirm a little in his grasp, and then he leans down and kisses your clit.

You jolt at the new sensation, another awkward breathy moan leaving your lips. He pulls back to give you a second, watching your expressions and committing them all to mind, and then he licks his lips and leans down for another wet kiss against your neglected bud. Then another, and another, and another, and at some point his tongue joins the barrage but you have no idea when. Too caught up in how good he's making you feel. So much better than your own fingers.

Lighter is in heaven, completely surrounded by nothing but you. Your little sighs, your skin, your sweet smell, and of course your juices dripping down his chin. You tasted so amazing, better than all the candies he ate. He swallowed you like a man starved, arguably more desperate for your pleasure than you were. Your little whines of his name only fueled him to suck on the little bud like a sweet treat, humming at the taste.

He wondered how many more moans he could get out of you if he added a finger... He had to stretch you out anyway, seems like now was better a time than any. One hand unwound itself from under your leg, snaking along the sheets right up under your bum.

Without taking his eyes or mouth off you he gently traces around your hole with his middle and index. Your hips grind up into his mouth, and he feels the way you clench against his fingertips. A smile grows on his face, god you were adorable, weren't you? He presses the tip of his finger into your heat, and you squeeze around it sucking him in like nothing.

"Shit..." He groans against you, the grumble going right through your nerves drawing a delicious moan out of you. He slowly pumps his finger at the same pace as his tongue, when it rolls across your clit, the finger presses up into you again. The white, hot pleasure that curls up your spine and through your body makes you arch your back. If he kept it up like this, you would cum faster than you ever had before.

Unfortunately, he pulls back and you whine like a needy child. He presses his thumb to your clit instead of his mouth as compensation, rolling in sweet little circles. Not nearly as pleasurable, but still enough to make your head spin, especially when you watch him press his cheek to your thigh to watch his own ministrations.

He is mesmerized by the way your hips jerk into his touch, his finger disappearing and reappearing over and over awfully stimulating for his relatively blank mind. His eyes lazily roll up to yours, smirking when he sees you watching him with lidded ones. "You like it, baby?"

You mutter an incoherent sound of approval, head falling back to the pillows, but that doesn't do it for him. He grabs your face with his free hand, focusing your expression on him yet again. As he does so, he eases a second finger in and you let out the most sinful moan of his name he's ever heard. He presses a kiss against your inner thigh, encouraging you to keep making those pretty noises.

He keeps on watching you, eyes having trouble focusing on both your face and your messy cunt. They're both such a good show, how could he be expected to pick which one was better. All the while he was sucking marks into your inner thigh, adding to the growing coil below your naval.

It was all too much for your poor little untouched body. His eyes watching you so carefully, the sting of his teeth on your thighs, his calloused thumb rubbing delightfully perfect circles against your swollen clit. You couldn't even think about anything other than how nice his fingers felt with circular motions right against that spot that your fingers could never reach.

"Lighter..." Your voice is so much more airy than you thought it would be, "I'm-"

He hums, understanding you without you needing to say anything at all. He removes himself from your thigh, climbing over to press his forehead against yours without stopping his movements. He wanted to see the face you made when you cum clearly. Wanted to have it etched into every corner of his brain so he could never dream of forgetting it.

"Go on then, I've got you," He encourages, and that's all it takes for the tight ball in your stomach to burst, and the flood of pleasure to take its place. You spasm around his fingers, juices coating them and dripping down his wrist. It's a beautiful thing to Lighter, watching the way your face scrunches up and then melts into pure pleasure. That was a face he could never forget, not in a million lifetimes.

He keeps his fingers moving at a slow and steady pace, easing you back down from your high. Only pull them out when you stop clenching around them, sucking your essence clean from them with a groan of satisfaction. "Delicious," He whispers, easing you back into the sheets, limbs soft and limp with the pleasant aftershocks of your orgasm.

Lighter is still there above you, watching with all the admiration in the world as your gaze refocuses on him. It's an infectious look that you subconsciously mirror, cradling his face in the palm of your hand.

"Feel good?" He asks, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

You nod, pressing a kiss to his nose, "Wonderful, actually. I don't know what I was so scared of."

He chuckles deep and warmly from the back of his throat, "I'm glad."

He presses gentle kisses across your cheek, nosing along your jaw and following with soft presses into the sensitive skin. You scratch his scalp appreciatively, more than happy to accept the affections.

"You wanna call it there?" He murmurs against your throat, hot breath leaving goosebumps in its wake, "Don't wanna push you too far."

You shake your head, frowning down at him, "No, no. I wanna keep going. It's not fair of me to leave you like... that." You gesture to his still rock-hard dick pressed against your thigh.

He comes back up to look at you, caressing your face with utmost care, "Don't worry about me, I can live without getting off."

"I know," you giggle, and it's such a sweet sound to him, "I want to, Lighter. I want you. Please indulge me just a little longer?"

He really can't argue with that, not with how you're smiling at him. "Alright," He sits up, grabs the condoms, and rips the box open with practiced ease, "but it's not gonna feel good to start."

"I know," You answer, sitting up to watch him slide his boxers down. His cock springs out, tip an angry red and bleeding precum down the shaft. It was an incredibly hot sight to see him slide the condom over himself, his muscles flexing from the much-needed attention. "I definitely know."

He smirks, settling between your legs again as he picks up the lube this time. "Enjoying the view?"

"Too much," you respond, enraptured as he tugs along his member a few times, shuddering at the sensation.

He takes the time to adjust you beneath him, tugging your hips up in an angled position. The manhandling is surprisingly hot, and your heart skips a beat when he grabs at your thigh more roughly than you're used to.

"I hope I can keep you satisfied," he muses, lining himself up with your pussy.

He runs the tip against your clit a few times, spreading a mixture of lube and your cum around, hissing to himself at the feeling. He wasn't even inside and he was already needing more of you, god what did you do to him?

He presses the tip against your weeping hole, hot and desperate against him. It fluttered in anticipation, feeling far too empty knowing what his fingers felt like. It had you praying to know what his cock felt like fully pressed inside. Surely it would fill you up even better.

His emerald green eyes come down to stare into yours, an intensity you've only ever seen from him in fights burning behind them. "Ready?"

You take a deep breath and then nod as assuredly as you can. You had no idea what you were getting into, but as the tip slowly sunk into you, you felt lightheaded. The sting was deep, drawing a hiss of pain out of you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He wasn't lying when he said it would hurt, but this was way worse than you expected.

He leans down, locking his fingers with yours and pressing loving kisses along your cheeks. His hair tickles your skin and it does wonders in distracting you from the burn of his stretching you. That was just the tip. If you couldn't handle that, how could you take the rest of him?

Lighter doesn't let you worry about it, rubbing his thumbs into your hips. Muttering sweet nothings into your sweaty skin, worshipping you like a god. Like you were his whole world. In his pleasure-fueled haze, that was more truth than it was fiction.

For every stinging inch, Lighter muttered praises and peppered a thousand more kisses across your burning skin. This was the most full you'd ever felt, and the more he pushed inside the more you wanted. He stuffed himself in to the hilt, stopping fully when his hips were pressed flush against yours. You shuddered at the sensation of his tip kissing your cervix. When he said he was big he meant it, and it was everything you wanted and more.

His rough hands slide gently along your sides, coaxing you to just look at him. Your glazed eyes slide over to his face, and you smile dumbly at his expression. His face is red, brows furrowed in concentrated effort and eyes clouded in lust. "You okay? Still hurt?"

You shake your head, chest rising and falling with more effort than you were used to. "It feels good. I like it."

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Fuck, he just can't stand it. You were so tight and warm, sucking him in like he was your last meal. He could feel your pussy clench around him suddenly, and he had to bury his face into your neck to stop himself from moaning out loud.

Who could've imagined a few years without sex would make him so weak. Maybe it was actually just you that made him like this. He couldn't possibly imagine any pussy better than yours, it felt like it was molded perfectly just for him. The thought occurs to him, like a stroke of genius, that this was his pussy and it was molded to him. Now that you let him fuck you once, he could do it again and again and again whenever either of you liked.

He liked that idea a lot more than he probably should, his cock twitching a little at the prospect. You squeeze back and he does moan this time, deep and throaty into your neck. It's quite the sound from such a big guy, making your skin tingle excitedly. You had been the reason for it, after all, it was flattering.

"Lighter?" You say, startling him. He looks up at you from his spot against your shoulder, "Can you move? I'm too full with you just sitting there."

He blinks at you, taking in your words carefully and digesting them. Yeah, you were gonna kill him tonight. You had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

"Whatever you want," He mumbles out, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, before slowly pulling out.

You groan out in tandem, the drag of his cock and a squeeze of your walls more pleasurable than you'd imagined. Then he pushes back in at the same pace and you shudder in his arms. He keeps the pace slow and easy, still able to remember that he wanted to be gentle despite how much he wished to be anything but. First time, he echoed in his head, take it easy Lighter.

Each drag of his cock against your plush warm insides has you gasping out, desperate for more and more. He watches you with an intensity to rival his excitement during a fight, taking in each detail with careful consideration. The way your brows scrunch up when he brushes that gummy spot with his tip, and how your teeth tug on your lips, and the way your eyelashes flutter when his hips lay flush into yours.

Lighter never considered himself an artist, but damn if you weren't his greatest masterpiece like this. You open your eyes and finally look at him, and the intensity in his gaze has you shying away into your palms. He can't have that, he wanted to look, so he grabbed your wrists and set them on his shoulders. They curl into the skin, crescent-shaped marks sure to form in the morning.

You still try to evade his gaze, so he follows with his own face, leaning forward. "Don't hide," he coos, his hands moving your hips with his upper body so he's fully leaning over you now, the new position allowing him to not only look at you but hit much deeper than before. "Lemme see yer pretty face."

A wanton moan is ripped from your throat as he picks up his pace, and you finally look at him when he grabs at your chin. His hair is stuck to his sweaty forehead, breathing heavily as he keeps up the new speed he's set. The wild look in his eyes is enough to make you clench and get to watch in real-time the effect it has on him. Swallowing hard as his eyebrows come together in pleasured surprise.

You were making it so, so hard on him, really you were. Each reaction you had made it so much more difficult to keep himself together. When you clench around him again he lets out a sound between a sigh and a squeak. Your fingers are running along the nape of his neck and through his hair, and it's nearly got him choking on air.

You're no better, hardly even coherent as his hips continue pistoning in and out of you at such consistent pacing. The wet slapping of skin on skin is the only thing you can focus on, everything else is too much for your muddled brain to understand.

The hand that isn't keeping your eyes on him comes down to massage your clit again, fingers splayed across your abdomen to feel himself through your skin while his thumb takes care of you. He was close, and he could tell you were too. Your moans getting more and more desperate, and the squeezing you gave him more and more desperate to keep him moving.

He didn't have it in himself to say anything coherent, so instead he settled on kissing you. Sloppy and uncoordinated and more teeth than anything else, but he still kissed you. Swallowing up every moan like a man starved.

His pace grows sloppy as he chases your highs, both of you moaning unabashedly loudly. He would hear from Lucy in the morning, he was sure of it, but that didn't matter too much to him now. Not when he felt you come undone around him. Your whole body tensed, desperate little cunt squeezing him in a vice grip and moans so delicious that he couldn't help but follow your lead.

He gives one last harsh thrust, and then he unloads into the condom. He thinks for a moment that he wishes it wasn't there but focuses instead on sucking at the juncture of your neck. You writhe under him, fingers raking down his back harsh enough to leave red lines in his skin.

It was better than he had expected it to feel, that was for certain. Even as he calmed down and came back to reality, there were little sparks of pleasure ringing through his body. He kissed his way over the marks he'd left on your body, waiting patiently for you to calm down before he pulled out.

Both of you let out sounds of complaint at the loss, but he knew that he couldn't stay inside you forever (no matter how nice that sounded). He smiled warmly down at you, caressing your face with such gentleness it could make you cry. "You alright...?"

You nod, brushing the hair out of his face so you can look at him properly, "This is probably the best I've ever felt in my whole life."

That gets him to laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, "I'm glad I could be of service."

"Did you-" You start, but he doesn't let you finish before he responds.

"Yes. I did enjoy myself, very much, baby." He hums, washing away any insecurities you could've had with ease.

He eases you up into a sitting position with him, holding you there until he is sure you will stay like that by yourself. Then, he stands and digs around his dresser for a towel to wipe you down with. You take the time to admire how nice his ass is out of those skinny jeans, humming to yourself at the sight.

When he rejoins you on the bed, you smirk at him, "Your ass is nice."

"Yeah," he huffs out a laugh, "Yours ain't all that bad either."

You let him do what he needs to, wiping you of sweat and any fluids that might become uncomfortable after a while. Then he does the same for himself, and the show is rather nice. When he finishes cleaning the both of you up, he crawls into bed and pulls you to his chest.

You take your chance to trace over the scars again, admiring just how pretty his marred skin is. He doesn't say a word, and you have the understanding not to make verbal comments now. The warmth of his chest combined with the pleasant ache in your limbs was enough to lull you to sleep.

The last thing you hear is Lighter mumble a quiet, "I love you." Though you don't respond, you know he knows you feel the same way.

[the-fluff-piece]

Hi, I know you just filled in a request of mine, but I couldn't stop thinking abt this one scene from a book. Basically, it's where fem!reader sits on Ace's, Law, and Monsert Trio's lap while theh feed the fem!reader strawberries dipped in chocolate with whipped cream on top. (Pls. include ace, i'm a major simp for him)

The scene requested is meant like a mindfulness-exercise, so it's a lot about the sensory experience. So this will be 5 Scenes where I try not to be too repetitive about the strawberry and try to bring out what makes each of them unique and lovable. We are directly entering the scene, so don't ask me where the food comes from xD

Also look ar my stories and headcanon master lists

Since it took me AGES here's the first two scenes with extra Ace and I'll post monster three when finished

Here is

An exercise in mindfulness

Part 2 coming soon!

You're having a panic attack, a breakdown, you're hyperventilating and don't know what to do anymore. Good thing your one piece suitor knows how to deal with it

Law

As a doctor, he immediately saw what was going on. The cold sweat on your forehead, the quick breathing, the fear in your eyes. It pained him to see you like that, so his first instinct was to draw you close.

"I'm here baby" He breathed into your hair as his arms wrapped tightly around you. Being held felt good.

He gently lifted your shaking body to sit you down on his lap as he settled on his bed.

"I got you. Concentrate on breathing. That's it, slowly" He guided you to calm down a bit.

He sat with you for a while, just breathing, before reaching over to get something from the nightstand.

"Close your eyes, open your mouth" he ordered in a soft voice and you complied.

"Taste it" something cool and wet touched your tongue. It was sweet and creamy in your mouth.

"Open up and bite down" he said, and you closed your mouth around it and bit down. A stream of sweet and fruity juice filled your mouth, made sweeter by the cream and there were also chunks of something...

"Let it sit in your mouth, taste it" Law said in his soft, deep voice. It was always easy for you to listen to him. His voice was deep and dark, it sounded soft and rich, especially that close to your ear. It was like the chocolate you began to taste as it melted in your mouth and balanced the sourness of the strawberry and the sweet cream with its heavy chocolate flavour.

You swallowed.

"Can you tell me what it is?" you could feel his breath tickle your ear.

"A strawberry? With dark chocolate and cream" you said and felt a soft kiss to your forehead as focus returned to your world. You realised that he was holding your hand in his, fingers threaded, and that he was rocking you back and forth.

You opened your eyes and saw the rest of the strawberry in his long fingers. He dipped it deep in cream once again, getting some on his fingers as well.

When he offered it to you, you took the strawberry in your mouth but couldn't resist to get the cream from his fingers as well. As you kissed it from his fingers, there was a light shiver in his body.

Ace

As your commander, he was responsible for you and your wellbeing. Always there, always an open ear and an easy smile. So when fear clasped its hand around your throat, you ran to him, heaving and babbling nonsense.

"Woah, slow down" He put his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him.

"Did something happen?" He asked, suddenly very serious.

You told him what led to your panic attack. "It's just in my head, I'm so sorry" you gasped for air because you hadn't been breathing right.

Suddenly, Ace put something on your head. In the midst of your attack, you were confused.

"This is now your safety hat" he explained. As you watched his black, messy hair in the wind you realised- your wearing his signature hat now.

"Come here, I know what will calm you down. A little comfort food." He reached for a small Basket and sat cross legged on the floor. You sank to your knees and stayed there, unable to move.

"If you stay like that your knees will hurt" He tugged on your arms to draw you into his lap.

"You know what calmed my baby brother down everytime? Food." He smiled a broad, reassuring smile and gave you a strawberry. You swallowed it almost without chewing.

"Hey! Not so fast, concentrate a bit ok? It'll calm you down" He reached for another.

"Now slowly, one bite. Keep it in your mouth. Notice all those small seeds in its surface? And the texture inside?" His voice was calm, soothing, "very good. Now you can chew and swallow."

You gulped it down, your throat still narrow, but your heart was beating a little calmer.

"You're in luck I planned for some sweet dessert. I've prepared everything! Here's another" this time, he dipped it in cream.

"I like the cream, it somehow makes it more fruity!" He said as he took one himself.

"Not so fast" He reminded you and you concentrated really hard on being slow and patient.

"Good stuff, right?" Another strawberry vanished in his mouth.

"Want another?" He asked.

You nodded and opened your mouth for one more. It was so generously dipped in cream that a drop landed on your chin.

"My bad" Ace said and wiped the cream with his finger and licking it off. He watched you eat and gave you another, with an even bigger crown of cream.

As he moved it to your mouth, a big drop fell, right on your collarbone. You definitely were in the moment now, the cool drop was like a needle on your skin.

"Oopsie" He whispered with a broad smile and trailed his fingers down your collarbone, "I'm so sorry..."

"You don't sound sorry" you chuckled.

"There's that smile again" and gave you a soft kiss.

"You were very brave" He whispered into your ear.

----

I hope the first part was to your liking! If you want something tweaked for the last three let me know ❤️

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Full focus

In working out like a maniac for at least 1 hour a day before going to bed, Carmy had found his solace.

He hadn't completely conquered his insomnia, but his sleep patterns had improved considerably since he'd collapsed into bed after a hot shower and an intense and painful workout session that always left him aching all over and sweating like a sinner in church. Every muscle burned like hell and every joint felt like a death threat after working out to the point where exhaustion was just a fogbank his body would trespass in a state of welcome mindlessness. Like a zombie. The only reminiscence of life he felt after the fact was the blood rushing through his veins and the pain coursing through his limbs.

Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting company when in the middle of his third set of Russian twists he had to let go of his beloved kettlebell, get up, and jogg to the door.

His sweaty face and messy hair framing it, his labored breathing that made his voice sound different, sexier, his old football jersey that he had cut shorter because he had partially burnt it trying to put out a fire a few years prior and now showed his perfect V-lines and sometimes even his bellybutton, his dick printed grey sweatpants that also showcased his perfect V-lines, his incredibly blue eyes showing surprise and also satisfaction, all of it was what Sydney saw as soon as he opened the door. And she had to remind herself to breathe after taking it all in.

"Hey there!"

"Hi, hello!"

"Come on in… What’s going on?"

"You forgot these."

She handed him a manila envelope that contained forms he had to fill out, sign, and submit the next day, well in a few hours actually, first thing in the morning.

"Natalie was furious so I thou-"

"So you saved the day, as usual…"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Sorry for the mess, Syd… I wasn’t expecting…"

"Oh, no no, don’t be. I gotta go now anyway, it’s almost midnight so…"

"Oh that’s not what I meant, please stay, give me a sec, and I’ll take a quick shower and drive you home. K?"

"No, it’s OK. I’ll catch a cab if I miss the train. Don’t sweat it. Well, too late for that, but, it’s fine. No worries. I mean. It’s cool, it’s fine, it’s-"

She was ranting, her speech rate had skyrocketed.

"This late? Good luck with that… No way! Lemme give you a ride, it’s the least I can do. Just… just help yourself in the kitchen and I’ll be right back. OK? Make yourself at home. Give me 5 minutes!"

"Um… OK. OK…"

Before jumping in the shower he speedily picked up his “toys” and put the kettlebell, the dumbells, the push-up bars, and the cast iron disc away as he casually tried to make conversation:

"So.. who… who let you in?"

"Your neighbor, the one with the little brown dog that looks like a squirrel."

"Oh, Mr. Washington! Yeah, he told me once you reminded him of his daughter."

"Yeah! He just told me that too. Shouted that at me, actually."

"He’s hard of hearing…"

"Yup. I’ll just wait here. OK?"

Syd sat down in the living room and texted his dad to let him know why she was running late and to reassure him that Carmy was going to drive her home soon.

"K, as you wish, I’ll be right back."

The more she went through his books the more she found herself wanting to ask him about what he had learned from each of them.

She wanted to know it all, what recipes had he already tried, which ones he didn’t like, where had he purchased that other book that was so hard to get, etc.

The pile of books by the window also served as an impromptu coffee table on top of which a little black ashtray was on display. She found that so endearing, so very “Carmy.”

She ran her index finger along the edge of that ashtray and could see him standing there by the window, smoking a cigarette, thinking about the restaurant, about Michael, about a recipe maybe… Did he ever think about her? She wondered. Her finger was still on the edge of the ashtray, tracing circle after circle, then venturing inside the receptacle to play with the ashes, drawing more circles in there. Sydney was deep in thought by then and had completely forgotten about the books, she was now only thinking about Carmy. 

In a state of semi-trance, she unknowingly got to the shelves on the wall and started inspecting each of the items there. Her curious mind was having a field day.

This red hard-cover sketchbook caught her attention and she couldn't help it, she had to know what kind of Sistine Chapel-level drawings with shading and all Carmy had come up with, so she opened it. 

If she momentarily forgot how to breathe earlier when her EC opened the door looking like a Greek God of testosterone, stamina, and cross-fit, covered in sweat, what she saw in that sketchbook straight out made her forget how to maintain a proper brain function altogether.

Each page, dozens of them, showed a different expression of her face, a different hairstyle of her braids, and a different design of her headscarves. A flawless variation of her. She was all over those pages. The resemblance was uncanny. She was beautiful on that paper, she was like enhanced but not to the point of not looking like herself, her essence was captured perfectly and she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her own features.

That’s when Carmy showed up behind her.

She didn’t even have to ask. 

He started explaining himself immediately. He stuttered his way through that explanation as his cheeks started to burn and his mouth began to feel dry.

Her surprise didn’t allow her to close her mouth. She kept it open all along, while Carmy tried to talk his way out of that predicament.

He kinda did by saying that he always drew portraits of people and that he didn’t think they were any good so that’s why he hadn’t shown her those yet, but that if she liked them she could keep them.

After a few more moments of silent blinking, Syd, while still flabbergasted, finally managed to shut her mouth, compose herself, swallow, and then form a short sentence:

"Um… thanks."

Carmy tried to fake calm. He wanted to sound as if he had everything under control and nonchalantly said:

"So you like them?"

"Sure."

"Wanna keep them?"

"I wanna frame them."

"Oh well… OK, thanks, I guess…"

"You are sooo talented, Carmy. These are… great, I’m—I’m in awe! I don’t know what to say, really…"

"Thank you."

"How did you-"

"I see you every day Syd."

"So… you didn’t take any pics or anything like that? I mean, I never posed for these…"

"Nope, just… I thought of you… that’s all."

"Wow!"

"You wanted my full focus, didn’t you? Well, there you have it."

He smiled sheepishly.

"I’d say…"

They both laughed on the way to the car.

That ride was awkward. The tension in the car was palpable. They couldn’t hold each other’s gazes. They would just steal a look at each other now and then, at a red light mostly… Then the tension continued to build up and they kept trying to ignore it and act as if nothing happened. Syd was holding on to that red sketchbook for dear life, she held it firmly against her chest like a shield.

When he pulled to the curve in front of her house, he looked at her intendedly, but couldn’t say a word. He was still too nervous and too embarrassed. His cover had been blown.

He had been caught red-handed, loving her.

His cover was up in the air like a fucking zeppelin.

Loving the memory of her.

His cover was now a satellite orbiting around Earth.

Loving the very thought of her.

He was sure she knew that by now. She was too smart to not have figured it out.

Syd looked at him and this time she was able to hold his eyes for a moment, then she stuttered something along the lines of: “Thanks for the ride” and got out of that car as fast as she could.

The walk to her door felt endless. Torturous even.

She wanted to go back in her tracks and kiss the genius out of him but she kept walking.

When she heard him drive away Sydney felt equally sad and relieved.

As soon as she got in bed she started going over the drawings again, and she was still so blown away by them that she couldn’t get any sleep that night.

She twisted and turned and her mind kept playing tricks on her. She pictured him alone, at his place, smoking a cigarette by the window, maybe wearing sweatpants, perhaps *only* those grey sweatpants that looked so hot on him, surrounded by his amazing books and thinking of her, drawing her perfectly by heart.

Her heart was all of a sudden a wild horse.

She wanted to call him up, wake him up, listen to his voice, and ask him about each drawing. She wanted him to walk her through each of those masterpieces. She wanted him to tell her why he did that, the truth this time around, not the PR version. She wanted... him.

6:00 AM Sydney was on her way to The Bear, still wired up, with the image of her own charcoal face firebranded on her brain and her every thought circling back to Carmy.

6:40 AM She was already at work, going through her to-do list, which included a lot of things that Carm usually did because he had to run that errand downtown, that morning.

9:07 AM Carmy walked through the front door of the restaurant and went straight to the office trying to avoid Sydney.

9:08 AM Syd was in the office telling him they needed to talk and do it elsewhere because Natalie was on the way.

9:08 AM Carmy was kicking himself on the inside.

9:10 AM They were outside, in the back alley, trying to sound like 2 adults having a serious yet friendly conversation about art.

9:11 AM They were making out. No, they were obscenely sucking face. Syd’s tongue was deep in his mouth and his hands were on her back pulling her closer.

9:20 AM They were still making out in the back alley, now her back was pressed against the wall, her hands were in his hair and his mouth was exploring hers as if his life depended on it, they were running out of oxygen, but that didn’t stop them, they continued locking mouths for a moment longer.

9:21 AM They finally broke the kiss to catch a breath, now their eyes were locked, they were panting, and they were nowhere finished. He went for her neck. Then back to her lips, she did the same. His hands on her waist, keeping her pinned to the wall, pressing himself against her. Her hands all over his back, trying to learn it by touch, like blind people learn to recognize faces with their hands.

9:22 AM Tina went out the back door carrying a huge trashbag, quickly made her way to the container, and dropped it there. She only saw them when she turned around and headed back to the restaurant. At that point, her spidey senses told her *something* was up, but Carm and Syd tried their best to look like 2 innocent people who happened to just be chit-chatting about the weather. Tina decided to play it cool and shot: “Morning!” Then promptly left them to it.

9:23 AM Syd and Carmy were back in the kitchen, pretending to fully focus on the tasks at hand. Not looking at each other. Still feeling their lips on one another. Still trying to control their respective heart rates.

11:08 PM Syd was on his couch, he was on top of her, he was all over her, inside her. She was grabbing his ass and urging him deeper as she sank her teeth into his shoulder and commanded him to fuck her.

11:29 PM Carmy was smoking a cigarette by the window, in his white boxers, using the ashtray he kept on top of his pile of books and looking at her, basking in her naked beauty, memorizing it. Syd was still on the sofa, lying on her side and resting her head on her hand, looking at him, enjoying the view as well. Their full focus: On each other, only this time around none of them were trying to hide it.

:The 💋 end:

You can find more fics like this one by me on AO3.

Thanks for reading!

XOXO

[fadingdaggerr]

close to home

part one | part two | part three | part four

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: continuation of a piece of home now set in mid-late season 4 when brienne is searching for arya and sansa, about a year and a half since the first chapter.

warnings: got s3-4 spoilers, canon typical violence but mostly in conversation, descriptions of injuries and death (brief), the classic lesbian ‘dancing around each other’

note: i told ya it would be slowburn :) sorry for the slow updates, college sucks and i am so behind because i keep getting overwhelmed and procrastinating

the news the king joffrey’s demise spread across the kingdoms with fury. little birds of your own running to send you word, quick hands tying notes to the bird. when a raven reached the camp, larkin was bobbing and weaving through the crowd. the red seal meant trouble, the kind that would likely cause the vein in your forehead to bulge and you to probably break something.

running into the tent, he comes to a screeching halt, a meeting progressive in front of him. your eyes look at him, he waves the notes, red seal on display. you wave him over frantically, meeting pausing just as fast as larkin entered.

commander-

the king is dead. poisoned. not sure who yet, but lord tyrion blamed. lady sansa missing. more to follow. suggest a move north.

- eoin

you read the note aloud, silence followed, everyone stunned. the glass to your right was thrown against the ground. this meant war was coming. winter was already drawing closer, but bloodshed was soon to come. the lannisters would never let this go.

eoin knew well of what move you’d make, you began the move north. it was slow, a complicated path to ward off unwanted followers. the weeks grew long, the desperation you felt for another raven was palpable. the further north we traveled, the harder it was word easily and discreetly.

orion brings a scroll, red wax, cloud pressed in.

commander-

your lady knight is leaving king’s landing within the week, looking for ladies sansa and arya. lannister man gave her a sword. moving north with a squire.

- rahim

the second you read the words ‘lady knight’ in fast., messy handwriting, your hands gripped the parchment a little tighter. a squire? had she been knighted, had they rightfully acknowledged her at last? you opt to ignore the use of ‘your’ in front of her nickname. instead you write a response, adding updated travel routes that will be followed, as well as advising the use of coded messages from now on. the scroll was passed to orion with directions of a new bird to land towards the east side of the city.

—

leaving the tavern with podrick and the wolf-shaped bread from hotpie left brienne with some semblance of hope. she could not save lady catelyn, but she could fulfill her promise and protect her daughters. if she ever found the bloody devils.

“where to now, my lady?” podrick asked, despite knowing the answer.

“north. if sansa fled, she’ll go somewhere familiar, to someone she trusts,” brienne was certain, and podrick nodded. he had only been under her service for a short time, but he had already gained large amounts of respect for her.

so north they went, and went, and went. brienne had been slowly teaching podrick to sword fight. he was nowhere near being able to defend himself, but the spirit was there. when the practice was over, they’d eat in silence. brienne wiped off her small knife, tucking it next to the horn that stayed in her storage. she hadn’t unraveled the sheathed dagger that was carefully knotted around the horn, afraid of acknowledging it, but keeping it near.

two months into her travels, she is awoken while stars still paint the sky. she rubs her eyes, growing slightly, she almost falls back asleep, assuming the noise was podrick or imaginary. but there it is again.

she sits up, hand automatically falling on her weapon. a blaring, deep in the woods. it’s far away, so the sound just barely reaching her ears. one more faint sound, then silence. and it remains. she lays back down, shaking her head to toss away the distractions. ‘probably some locals,’ she muses to herself, before falling asleep once again.

another month passes, and brienne swears she is being watched. she’s positive it isn’t her squire, he minds his business, and his stares don’t feel this imposing. a rustle in the trees above her caught her attention, but she saw nothing, she assumed it was animals of the forest. she looks around, but there’s still nothing. no one. she’s going crazy, is all she can think. ‘all this stark ladies business has driven me mad!’

—

a younger man in your company, dorin, comes rushing through the crowd, he’s walking, although very fast. he gracefully dodges each person, bumping into no one, uttering no words as he slithers between them.

he silently approaches you as you’re sitting on your desk. he likes to give people a scare when he can, but you notice him, turning and catching him off guard.

“what can i do you for, dorin?” you say without looking at him, smirking to yourself as you look a potential supply routes.

he clears his throat, “i spotted a tall woman, blonde. accompanied by a man, quite a bit shorter than the woman, with brown hair. a horse for each. and quite the fancy sword on her hip, but i could only see the hilt. not well given my altitude, still it looked beautifully crafted.” dorin’s reports always had perfect detail, he had climbing expertise, and he didn’t ask question as to why you had him survey the woods. he was perfect for the job.

“thank you dorin, that’ll be all. send ragnall to me on your way out,” you say diplomatically, hiding the giddiness that filled your chest.

“you called?” ragnall stood in the entrance.

you swing so your legs dangle off the desktop, “yes. gather two others and please nicely escort the travelers one hour east to of our camp. nicely. got it?” you raise and eyebrow.

“yes, commander,” he grumbles, hoping for something more exciting, but heads to follow orders. you jump off the desk, and move just outside the tent.

“boy!” you call out, hands cupped around your mouth. less than twenty seconds, and larkin was headed to you, stopping just before you. “ready two cots and make way for two horses, we got visitors in two,” and he’s off. and you’re patiently waiting in your tent, hands twisting and pulling at each other in your lap.

—

brienne was washing up when she heard podrick yell for her, she is quick to come to his aid. sword drawn, she stands protectively in front of podrick.

“what is your business here?” she asks, eyes stern and angry.

“lady brienne, we’re here to escort you to camp,” ragnall speaks first, hoping she’ll recognize him best. her sword immediately slides back into her scabbard.

the entire walk back to the camp her hands were sweating. she explained to pod meeting you with jaime, and how she found out about the skyforth. he listens carefully, and she’s careful not to talk to much about you. she does mention you’re from tarth, and that it was nice to know someone from there, easily explaining away any overflowing joy.

she saw the tents growing closer, the guards closest the opening moving to make way for everyone and the horses. her eyes darted around for the largest tent, with the large table and the desk you sat on instead of at. their horses were taking over to the others with a quick promise of their belongings being brought to their own tent. podrick looked to her for confirmation, she assured him it was okay, she trusted these men and their commander.

ragnall led her to the tent she had she looking for, her eyes unblinking as they approached. they stopped as ragnall lowered his head to enter the tent to announce their presence. she heard your voice say something, but couldn’t make it out. still, she bit back a smile, podrick did not notice.

ragnall’s arms opened the curtain. she took a breath and steadied her mind quickly, ducking into the tent, podrick behind her.

you. all black attire as she had assumed was your typical choice, your cour cloak was draped across a chair. you looked less imposing without it, but she knew that was not the case. you’re deadly, just like her, fierce like her, angry like her. but she knew you were soft underneath, she had seen it with larkin and a little with herself.

brienne. clad in castle armor, only lacking lannister lions on the pauldrons. a lion’s head pommel on her sword mad your fingers twitch, questions filled your head. all of them became fuzzy when your eyes moved to her face. her hair was lighter from the sun exposure of travel, freckles blooming on her cheeks. you took in a deep breath.

“brienne of tarth,” you step forward, arm extended to shake. she does so quickly, smiling gently.

“commander. let me introduce you to my traveling comp-” she hears him clear his throat behind her, “my squire, podrick.”

he sticks his arm out to you with a smile, but you speak before him, “podrick payne.” you shake is arm, chuckling at his shock of you knowing his name. you knew of him, your little birds had told you all about pod. and by just looking at him, you liked him already, he’s much better than not-so-pompous and thinks-he’s-pretty.

“it’s nice you have you back, lady brienne. and with a squire no less. have your talents finally been appreciated by the crown?” you ask with genuinely.

she lets out a dry laugh, “no, they haven’t. the armor and sword were a gift, to help me keep my promise to the late lady catelyn.”

“i was heartbroken to hear of her death. we only met once, but she was a kind and fierce woman. i pray to the gods for her and her children,” you look at the floor as you speak, then to brienne, “does your new sword have a name?”

she smiles, excited to speak of her new weapon, “oathkeeper.”

“a good title for both you and your sword,” she’s too stunned to respond, “hungry?” podrick nods happily.

—

podrick asks you loads of questions, most of which with a full mouth, you happily answer. after a minute, your eyes widen, dropping your fork as you scramble from the table. brienne’s thoughts catch up with yours. larkin. she hears your usual call for him.

before you’re even back at the table the boy is running in, faster than lightning. he had a huge, goofy smile on his face. brienne was shocked to see the boy a whole head taller since she had last seen him, no longer such a little boy.

“lady brienne!” he yells excitedly, almost running to hug her but sticks with sticking his arm out quickly. she returns it her equal passion.

“how are you larkin? how’s your training going?” she asks with real, genuine curiosity. you watched with a soft smile as he spoke with excitement, talking about everything and anything. brienne listened intently, nodding and asking questions. podrick noticed your smile, but only got half the reason.

“he your son?” he asks, no food in his mouth this go around.

you’re about to speak when you’re cut off by larkin, “pretty much.” your heart almost explodes in that moment, you won’t cry, you can’t, not until you’re alone. your nose twitches, and you grab your cup and large drink. brienne takes note of your rapid blinking that pushed back a wave of tears.

“um, larkin. you didn’t introduce yourself to podrick here, he used to squire for lord tyrion,” you change the subject to save your ego. podrick looks to brienne, who looks at you. how did you know that? she hadn’t told you that.

“wait, for the i-” now is your turn to cut off larkin.

“aye! don’t call him that boy, he doesn’t like it,” you look to brienne, “i know everything. little birds, you know this,” you read hers and pod’s faces easily. larkin had a million questions and so many things to say, and podrick was matching his enthusiasm.

“go show podrick the practice yard, he’s learning to sword fight as well,” you say, “you can talk all you want down there, give him a tour.” they leave immediately, even twice his age, pod had a childlike air about him.

there was tension in the silence, brienne wanted to break it, “how have you been?”

i swallowed and took a deep breath, “we’ve been traveling north, trying to stay as far away from the mess in king’s landing as possible. larkin told you about training, it’s just been moving i guess.”

“not what i asked. how have you been?” she leans towards you.

you can hardly look at her, “would it be bad to say ‘i have no fucking idea’?” you rotate the glass in your hand.

“no, i understand. i have been in the same position as of late,” she honest in her words. she’s felt a hole in the center of her chest all her life, one that felt like it was slowly filling in your presence.

“it’s good to see you again, brienne of tarth,” your eyes look into hers. she looks back.

“it’s good you see as well, no name of tarth,” she jests. “i believe i was promised your name upon our next meeting.”

“and i recall saying ‘maybe next time,’ did i not?” you get up from the table. she follows.

you walk down to her tent, giving her space to remove her armor, she knew it wasn’t necessary here. she kept her sword close, grounded by the security and weight of it against her hip. she emerges in her dark linen pants and blue tunic, and you’re sure her eyes couldn’t get any more blue. you kept your staring to a minimum, turning to continue the stroll. brienne stayed behind you for a moment, watching you now. your hair longer, not bothering to cut it while you traveled, the new scar on the back of your neck, disappearing underneath the collar of your shirt.

when she reached your side again, she took a second to take in your profile. the bags under your eyes visible, eyes straight ahead, jaw set. the world had been cruel since you last met, she could see that much. wooden swords clashing together broke her attention, seeing podrick and larkin practicing together. you and brienne both chuckled at larkin’s noticeable higher skill.

you kept walking, letting ‘the boys have their fun.’ you sat at the fire pit, brienne sits on the same log as you this time. you. it’s sit in comfortable silence now. she feels your staring, eyes fixed on left ear. your eyes traced the shell, where there was a light scar from your first encounter. she turned to face you, you look away, facing the fire once again.

“i like it, you know. the scar. it’s a nice reminder,” she says.

you laugh, “you like that i threw a dagger at you?”

“not at all. i like that i won’t forget meeting you.”

you liked this as well, a permanent reminder of you with her. you only wish you had more that memories to remember her. you relied on memories of the flames lighting up her face, orange fire making her turn golden. you thought about her often when you couldn’t sleep, which seemed to be most nights as of late.

“you seemed to have accidentally left something in my stores,” she jokes.

“i was wondering when you’d mention that,” you sound nervous, and you continue quietly, “i was hoping you may hear the horns one and respond.”

it all made sense. she had heard you a month ago, calling, sending word to others, it was a call to bring others to you. to bring them home. she didn’t mention it, not wanting you to know she had failed you.

“i found my way regardless. how did you find me?”

“dorin. he’s quite the climber,” you watched her face twist, then fall. she had felt herself being watched the last time she was here, she never thought you’d have spies in the trees. you messengers in the capital being so well hidden made more sense.

“i’d gotten word of a certain lady knight leaving king’s landing, with a squire, no less. we were already headed north, as were you. i hoped our paths would cross, and maybe i willed it myself,” your voice is happy, but you still don’t look at her. she didn’t want to admit that your words had her heart racing, that you made her weak.

“i’m glad you did,” and you both just enjoy each other’s company.

supper comes, and podrick and larkin return, sweaty and covered in dirt. larkin stands next to the table as podrick moves fo sit down.

“were you raised by pigs?” you question. “go wash that shit off you before either of you sits down in one of my chairs,” larkin is quick to run at the aspect of sitting with everyone. brienne tilts her head towards podrick, he turns and follows the other boy.

“and they say women are the ones that who need orders to follow,” brienne says, and you laugh heartily. she bathes in the sound, a sound she caused. she wanted to hear your laugh again and again, and even more after that.

you look at her from across the table, face unreadable, “will you leave tomorrow?”

if her heart wasn’t already racing, oh gods would it be running for it’s life. she suppresses a shakiness that is migrating from her hands to her voice, “i think pod and i are quite weary from our travels, we may stay an extra night. just so we’re well-rested, of course.”

“of course,” you smile.

—

in the morning hours, brienne is greeted with a sight that almost tears her lungs from her chest. you were dressed down, no longer in your uniform. instead, black pants and grey tunic rested upon you, tunic untied at the top. your hair was wet, dampening the collar of your shirt. a dagger was still tethered to your thigh, you were never without one it seemed, an extension of you. you looked calm, peaceful even. no one else was awake, you had no responsibilities right now.

she approaches you, hoping you wouldn’t catch her admiring you. your content face grows a smile, crinkles around your eyes deepening. brienne was beautiful. no one could convince you otherwise, if they disagreed they must be blind, or dense, or both. she’s wearing a darker blue tunic, making her eyes look brighter. the sapphire in her irises encrusting your heart.

“good morning, commander,” she says slyly.

“good morning, lady brienne. sleep well?” you meet her halfway, only about a foot of space between you both. you smelled like honey and pine.

“best sleep i’ve had in months, truly. this is the first bed that hasn’t been made of leave or reeked of piss,” she says dryly, humor evident in her eyes.

“i’m glad. last you were here, you couldn’t sleep. i guess it’s because you’re no longer around strangers.”

“definitely not. except for you, i still haven’t got your name,” she wants to know, no, needs to know. she wants to say your name, to think of you more than just ‘the commander.’

you wanted to hear her say your name, but years of hiding had made your skin thick and your distrust in people thicker. you trusted her, but not the rest. “soon,” is all you say. she takes this answer, knowing she wouldn’t get another for a while.

you move away from her, eyes still on her face. she followed as you began walking, all the way to the tree line. you looked at her, silently asking if she wanted to come with you. she nodded, she thinks she’d follow you anywhere.

walking in the woods with you was peaceful. the crunching of sticks beneath you, the wet leaves dampening the sound of your footsteps. everything is quite, light, pretty. brienne feels like she left her stresses behind her at the tree line, all her doubts were in the tall grass. she stands behind as watches as you move slowly, crouching behind a tree, your movements carry no noise. she tries to move closer, but you look at her sharply, and she stays still. she watches you move quickly, hand going to your ankle, dagger out and thrown quickly. a large bird falls from branch across the stream.

you spring up from your spot, quickly and expertly crossing over the stream on slippery stones to retrieve the bird. you come back the way you left, holding up your prize to brienne, a satisfied smile on your face.

“breakfast for two, m’lady?” you ask with a bow, then begin walking. she laughs at your words, following you back to camp.

“how could i say no to that?”

getting back to camp meant getting back when everyone had risen. podrick was with larkin again, both shooting arrows into hay bale targets, both missing miserably. the bird was grabbed by a man who strolled by, yelling ‘gimme an hour’ over his shoulder. the camp was lively, brienne smiled to herself. it felt like home.

—

nightfall reached the camp, different groups stay around the different fires. the chatting, laughter, and music carried brienne around as she searched for you. after breakfast you had disappeared to discuss future plans with the leading men of skyforth, leaving brienne to fill the time without you. she wished she could have gotten more time to see the green of the forest paint your face. she almost wished you had been unsuccessful in your hunt, selfishly wishing she could have wandered beside you for just a moment longer. what has gotten into me?

she sits at fire, losing herself in the flames. she watches the dancing of light a little longer, feeling someone’s presence. she doesn’t have to look to know it’s you, but she does anyways, just to see you. you look at her just as intently, sitting to her left.

she meets your eyes, one concealed in darkness, the other shining in the fire’s light. she looks back to the flames. your eyes stay on her, she feels them searching her, the attention crawling on her like a gentle ladybug. her feels ears warm as she feels your eyes stay there, she blames it on the fire. that is until she sees a hand slowly rising to the shell of her ear. your fingers graze over her scar with a feather-light touch, the scar you put there. you were so gentle, brienne almost thought she was imagining it. she turned and look at your face, lips turned down, crease between your eyebrows prominent. you were ashamed of yourself for hurting her, no matter what she said earlier.

brienne’s hand comes to grab the one by her ear, holding your hand to display your scarred knuckles to her. she could she little ones around your fingers, faded and old, likely from your days before being a master of the dagger. she liked those ones, but the deeper ones, she hated.

“ask whatever you want,” you spoke softly, “i can feel your mind working, can practically see it too.”

her thumb runs over your knuckles, a question in itself. you answered, “most are from fighting, first one was when i was was taken from tarth, last was about two months after you parted. i try to keep my distance, but sometimes i’m impatient.”

she laughs lightly, trying not to break this quiet moment. she’s already about to burst at the seams from holding your hand, and you’re in the same condition in your own mind. you’re so focused on not shaking, that your haven’t stopped staring at her eyes in the orange glow. they were crystalized sapphire seas gifted to her, the only one worthy enough to be trusted.

“which one was the worst?” brienne asks, her voice is careful. you wince are the thought, pulling your hand from hers to move your cloak away and lift your tunic. just below your left ribs was a large, jagged scar, it was clear that the injury had been deep. brienne resists the urge to trace your scar as you did hers, her hands twitching.

you lower the tunic back down, “we got raided four years ago. assholes just went straight for the kids, so i threw myself in there. got four out of five down, last one got me with my own blade, took it from my back.” you take a deep breath, “he went for the kids, so i took the knife out and slit his throat. larkin and two others had to carry me out to the healers. they were just little babes, they shouldn’t have had to do that.”

brienne places a hand on your knee giving it squeeze, “they were able to save you because you saved them. they know you’d never let anything happen to them.” your hand sits atop hers and squeezes back, a silent ‘thank you.’

“i may ask you anything?” she clarifies, already knowing what she needs to know. the only thing she had been thinking about for a year.

you lean forward ever-so-slightly and whisper, “anything.”

“what’s your name?” she whispers back, she almost feels like she’s learning your deepest, most damning secret.

you close your eyes and huff a laugh through your nose, you knew she’d ask. you look back up to answer, but a large gust of laughter bursts your bubble. you’re both suddenly aware of other people moving closer. drinking hour has begun for the men, and the children are playing pretend with the practice swords. podrick was sitting with everyone, pretending he hadn’t been watching you and brienne every now and then, only being able to you slightly around her shoulder.

as everyone’s approaching the fire, you whisper the answer she’s being dying for. she reads your lips, going to test the name on her own tongue. your hand covers her mouth, free hand making a shushing motion, laughing behind your finger. you can feel her grin beneath your hand and it overwhelms you. you quickly take away your hand.

podrick sits himself on a log near you both, brienne’s eyes snap to him and are practically screaming ‘not a word.’ he just takes a sip of ale. ragnall brings you and brienne each a drink. he bends down to speak to you quietly, his words only traveling to your ears.

“don’t get too attached, commander. she’s here for bed and meal, nothing else. she’s leaving tomorrow and war is brewing,” you shove him harshly away from you, and he walks away, knowing you’d tell him to ‘piss off’ anyways. you visibly deflate, but take a strong sip to drown his words. brienne is enraged by him taking your smile so quickly, how quickly doubt clouded your eyes from his words. she wants to ask, but you shake your head.

“it’s nothing, he’s a killjoy,” you say as if it were nothing, but the shake of your leg gave you away. you press you palm into your knee to still it’s motion, brienne is confident she now despises ragnall. she’s not the only one who notices your mood plummet, because before she can even think of what to do, larkin jogs over.

“commander, could we do dagger practice? i want to learn throwing in the dark,” he tugs the sleeve of your upper arm. you stand immediately, arm wrapping around him shoulder.

“pinch me i’m dreaming,” you say as you squeeze the boy into you, hugging him tightly as he laughs, “did i just hear that you want to throw daggers? willingly?” you pull away and pretend to inspect him, angling his head is odd directions as he laughs, “are you sure you aren’t a witch, a shapeshifter?”

brienne watches the scene before her with a smile. how easily your spirits were lifted by someone you loved, especially this parental love you felt for larkin. she could never make you smile this much, she knows that larkin is the only one who can, but she wants to get close regardless. podrick watches brienne look at you, he finds himself sad for her that they have to leave in the morning. he knows there’s something more, and he knows brienne will ignore it as long as possible.

larkin begins to drag you, your voice carries over your shoulder, “you two coming or not?”

the four of you go to the targets. your demeanor changes from parent to teacher quite quickly. podrick attempts to throw into the target as well, missing terribly, while larkin’s land on the outer rings. yours create a horizontal line, one in the middle and one on each side. brienne throws a single dagger, she hits the target towards the bottom, but ‘at least hit she hit it,’ as pod grumbled put it.

larkin headed off to bed as the sky became devoid of light, podrick went for another drink and to warm by the fire. this left you and brienne at the targets. she watched you throw dagger after dagger, each hitting its destination as if you were moving it with your mind. you had covered the target almost completely, none of the daggers touching. she walked with you to retrieve them all, helping you silently.

“what did ragnall say to you?” she asks, breaking the tense silence. you paused for a moment, then continued.

“nothing of importance. he’s all work, no fun,” you grunt as you pull the center dagger out. the ones in the center were deep, some were down to the wood in the middle of the targets. “i’m sorry, i just… he’s an ass, and he knows how to make me cross,” is all you can say.

“i’ve got my own one of those,” brienne jests, trying to lift the mood.

“ah yes, but he’s all the way in king’s landing. mine is practically up my ass every time i think about sitting down,” you point a knife at him from across the camp, pretending to throw it, “prick.”

she laughs at your childish behaviors, “i think we should head back to everyone else.”

you roll your eyes, “and i think that if i’m within five feet of that ferret, i’ll choke him. i’ll stay right here.” brienne barks a laugh at your words, moving to grab a torch off the side of a nearby tent to light the small fire pit by the targets.

“would anyone question you for doing so? you’re the commander,” she says with a joking tone.

“probably not, but don’t tempt me, lady brienne. i have very little self-control,” you say back, sitting down next to the fire. brienne’s mouth shuts quickly, and she moves to sit with you.

she blames the heat rushing to her cheeks on the flames once again. she grows brave and responds, eyes coming back to your face, “maybe i should continue then.” she smiles at your eyes lighting up.

brienne’s mouth moves faster than her mind, “what did you mean the time we saw each other?”

your eyes fell to your lap, “i said a lot of things, be more specific.”

“that you know your own thoughts,” she wants to how if you see her the same as she sees you, all encompassing.

“stories people make up, men make up, when they feel small, are nothing of importance. i’ve met you, spoken to you, seen you,” your words make brienne feel a little sick, “so far the only truly thing they’ve said is that you’re tall, and from tarth. two things!” she looks at her hands, her mind raging against her.

you lean and grab her hand, “you are not a beast,” she looks at you, “or ugly, or any of that shit they dare say about you. they’re intimidated by you, you’re powerful and alluring,” you’re speaking from your heart it seems, “if you asked me, i would say you’re quite beautiful, perhaps handsome even.”

brienne tried not to think about it much as she fell asleep. she definitely didn’t think about you holding her hand and calling her beautiful and handsome. or the shy smile you gave her that made her heart squeeze in her chest, breath shaking with each exhale. or how you held her hand for an hour until you got up to smother the fire. or how you walked her to her tent and said goodnight to her quietly, like it was a secret message from you to her. or how you looked back as you walked away, lingering there for a moment.

—

the next morning, you stare at the roof of your tent for gods know how long. if you didn’t leave the tent, she wouldn’t go, right? of course she would, she has an oath to keep, a you tell your selfish mind. you rise, putting on your uniform, the weight of your cloak holding you together.

once you step out of your private tent, larkin is by your side in minutes. he’s quiet, much like last time. you had both grown fond of brienne, and he now had a friend in podrick, making this goodbye harder. your arm sits around his shoulders, muttering to him as you walked around to get breakfast.

larkin’s mood lifts upon seeing his new friend, jogging over to pod and talking animatedly. brienne was sitting a bit away, lost in thought as she ate. you looked her for a moment, taking in the sight of the morning sun casting a dream of light across her face, lighting her up like an angel. you moved to go sit with her, grabbing a pear from the center of a tablet you passed. you sit across from her, and bite into your snack as you wait for her to notice you.

brienne here’s a soft crunch near her, head rising until her eyes meet you. tired eyes, pear in hand, hair still down, you were quite a sight to her. she just smiled lightly while looking at you, you returned it. neither of you spoke, just sitting together, enjoying the last moments before she departed.

you feel eyes on you, turning to see ragnall with pointed eyes, staring holes into your skull. brienne sees your brows furrow, hand going to your ankle. before she can even say ‘don’t,’ a dagger flies through the air and buries itself into the beam he’s resting against, only a hair above his head.

“pay mind to your own business, ya owl-looking fuck. blink once in a while, won’t you?” you seethe, and brienne sees a similar anger from the first time she met you and smiles to herself. the men around ragnall laugh at your comment, one pulling the dagger out and bringing it to you with a ‘nice one.’

brienne finishes her food as you slowly finish your pear. you leave the food tent walking towards the horses, and she follows behind you. your hand comes up to the face of a light brown horse with white splotches across him, he nibbles at you hand in greeting. you grab a folded parchment, grabbing her hand and placing it there, palm flat over it.

“these are preliminary travel routes. they’ll probably change, but you’ll probably still be able to track us down. if- if you wan- if you needed to,” you pull your hands away, locking them behind your back.

brienne looked at the parchment, then you. her voice is soft, “thank you. maybe one day it won’t come to tracking each other down.”

“maybe there will be a time where we travel with each other instead of away,” you almost mumble. brienne’s heart almost couldn’t take it, the way you stared at your feet while you spoke and fluttered your eyelashes. gods, i hope so.

“maybe,” she says back, eyes never leaving you.

saying goodbye to you was going to be harder than last time, she didn’t want to say anything. she wishes she had left before you woke up, so you wouldn’t be able to see the homesickness in her eyes as she got further from you. she lead her horse to the front of the camp while you lead podrick’s, eyes catching each other’s every now and then.

larkin was with podrick, listening closely to whatever he had to say. you looked to brienne, “use the horn, will you? if i start following you now, you’ll never get rid of me.”

she smiles at your words, her voice speaks lowly, “who said i was opposed to that?” your brow raises, eyes looking directly into her. you’re about to comment back, but podrick and larkin make their way over.

you settle for, “goodbye, lady brienne,” you turn, “podrick. safe travels to you both, may we see each other again soon.”

she and podrick hoist themselves onto their horses. she looks at you, her eyes raking over your face, you had hardly slept either it seems.

“thank you, commander,” she smiles tightly, “i’m sure you’ll find a way to keep an eye on us.”

you laugh, “who says i don’t already?”

you approach her horse, petting him gently and you speak to brienne, “i mean it, use that horn if there’s any trouble, if you need anything. even just a meal and a bed, doesn’t have to be battle. please, just… just use the damn horn.”

she leans closer to you, “i promise you,” you’re trying so hard not to faint from the closeness, “and i don’t break promises.”

i said slowburn did i not? also if anyone else would like to be tagged in part 3 (there might be a part 4) just leave a lil comment on here :) feed back appreciated, love ya

tags: @another-unoriginal-username @the-bagel24

[acoraxia]

Sorry for the dumb questions, im allo and dont entirely undertand qprs.

Why is wukong even with macaque? With macaque i understand, he loves wukong even if he hates him too and hes a simp and wukong is a goddess made flesh. But wukong doesnt love macaque, and even though you said he wants to, why? In your fics and drawings hes still mad at macaque's actions and he doesnt even seem to like him as a person at all. Like in one fic you had wukong say macaque will never be part of his life again, and then later in the fic, they start kissing and the text says it literally means nothing? In another he tells macaque he can never love him, and then offers him a room? Its just a lot of mixed messages, and if he loved (even platonically) and hated macaque i could understand, but he doesnt

Hello! Not a dumb question, no worries, my art and fics can be a little confusing at times!

A quick reminder that my art and my fanfics do not always correlate to my personal hcs!

Sometimes I draw SWK and Macaque having fun or being happy together because that’s what my brain wants me to draw, not because it’s following my hcs or theories about the characters.

Personally I can see them reconciling but I’m waiting until S5 and S6 for writing or drawing anything on that. The recent art I’ve done of shadowpeach is for my Requiem AU (set in the same timeline as the Boy Savior fanfic I’ve written) so while I still hc them as a qpr it is not the same as the regular Macaque and Wukong that I write and draw for.

The fanfic “Leave the Door Closed” is more of a tribute to aromantic SWK and how he feels as though he can’t love Macaque, he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of what “loving someone” someone means and he does somewhat care about Macaque but he’s conflicted about it! It’s all layers and it’s meant to be confusing because Wukong himself is confused about his feelings

But no not a dumb question, it’s just all messy stuff and the fact that I like drawing them kissing

That’s it

All good vibes

[makethiscanon]

The Trouble with Trains: Ojiro x Fem!Reader [Part 1]

Rating: Mature (16+) || Word Count: 5,000 || Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Rescue, Tension, Eventual Fluff, First-meetings, Slow Burn, Modern AU, 99% Quirkless AU || Warnings: Moderate threat, crude language/cursing, attempted chikan, mentions of violent imagery, Dabi and Toga get their own warnings.

I don’t write whump/angst so please trust me this ends up fluffier than the tags suggest.

------

The unpredictability of public transport meant you never knew who you were going to be sat by.

Sometimes it was a mother with a toddler on her knee; sometimes a middle-school kid with their headphones in, and sometimes it was absolutely no one at all. You liked those times, especially on longer journeys.

Today you boarded the train, hoping to get an empty seat beside you, but saw how busy the train was and let that fizzle out.

Today was the start of the summer holidays, after all.

With your luggage parked in the rack, you shuffled down the aisle, checking your ticket. Thankfully you'd booked in advance – three hours was a long time to have to stand.

“36-D… 36-D…” you muttered, counting the seat-numbers overhead.

Arriving at your row, you noticed someone in the seats adjacent to yours – a young, blonde man in a beanie, jacket, and ripped skinny jeans.

He was average by any stretch of the imagination, except he had a large, muscular tail. It was so large, in fact, that you wondered if the seat beside him was booked out just so his extra limb wouldn’t bother anyone.

You weren’t sure how long you were staring, but it was long enough for him to notice.

He looked up and you jerked in surprise, but offered him an awkward smile to say sorry. He actually smiled back so you went to apologise, but noticed the headphone wires protruding from his beanie and realised talking was pointless.

As you settled into your seat, you noticed that 36-C wasn't reserved. Someone was sure to claim it, but at least you had time to get comfortable before your travel partner appeared.

As the train got busier, you sat your handbag in your lap then pulled out your book and began to read, enjoying the hustle and bustle of background noise, until someone finally dropped heavily into the seat beside you.

“Nah, you should have seen his face when I said I wasn’t coming home this summer. Fucking livid. Funny though. Wish I could have taken a picture.”

Okay, you thought, shuffling as far into the window as you could, there was no need to panic. First impressions were first impressions; he could be nicer than he first seemed – you might have just caught him at a bad time.

You stole a quick glance, but barely long enough to spot the mop of black hair and what looked like scars across his face before you feared staring would draw his attention.

Your heart dropped when two other – and there was no other way to describe them but – ruffians dropped into the seats in front, before they knelt up and peered over the seat backs to continue their conversation.

“Do you still want to loot his holiday home this weekend? We could do it if he’s at that press conference?” Asked a man with straggly, white-blue hair and a very serious case of eczema, who didn’t seem to care one bit that he was announcing such devious holiday plans in front of you.

The girl beside him laughed, and it was so shrill that you flinched.

Catching your reaction, she caught your eye and her grin grew wider, like a predator preparing to kill, but then she returned her attention to her friends.

“I say we should still visit your dad. Don’t you think a little family bonding is a good thing?”

The man beside you clicked his tongue.

“This delusion that you’re going to sleep with my dad is commendable, Toga, but if you ever showed up on his doorstep he’d literally rip you in two.”

The girl laughed again, the messy strands of her blonde space-buns bobbing up and down.

“Hopefully, with his dic—”

You desperately tried to drown out their conversation. You knew your cheeks were red. You wanted to bury your face in your book, but it might be too obvious that you were avoiding them.

The only thing you could hope for was that their stop was somewhere early on in your journey. They didn’t seem to have lots of luggage so you couldn’t imagine they were travelling far.

You kept your head down, trying to focus your attention on your book. But try as you did, with the three friends talking loudly around you about robbery, sex and the ever increasing allusion to violence, it was hard to hear anything over the horrible pounding of your heart inside your ears.

When the train set off, you prayed it found the next stop quickly. The girl, Toga, only seemed to get louder and giddier with excitement, and both times you glanced at her, you found her staring directly at you with a wicked grin. It was unnerving, to say the least.

You finally had a moment to breathe when the ticket warden came through the carriage. Your three new companions shrank in their seats when they saw her coming. Toga and the flaky-skinned man disappeared from view, then the one beside you shut his eyes and stretched out his long legs, very much pushing his knee into what little personal leg room you had left, then had the audacity to pretend to be asleep. 

If he didn’t unnerve you so much, you might very well have laughed at the cheek of him.

When the ticket warden reached your cluster of seats, she checked the tail-guy’s first, and you spotted with the utmost jealousy that the only occupants of his two-seater space were he and his tail.

The warden cleared her throat to grab your attention.

“Tickets, please.” She said, eyeing you and your unwelcomed travel buddy suspiciously, like she thought you were actually travelling together. To nip that thought in the bud, you pulled out your ticket and smiled with the friendliest and most reassuring smile you could muster.

“Here you go.” You said, doing everything you could to sound cheerful and polite. What you didn’t notice was how the man opened one eye to look at you after he heard you calling out like an innocent little bird.

He was wondered how easy it might be to break your wings.

Oblivious to his predator-like stare, you continued to smile as the warden handed your ticket back, now with a notably softer expression. She nudged her head towards your travel buddy, who had shut his eyes to complete his sleeping façade, and mouthed: he with you?

You shook your head vigorously, hoping to get across just how horrified by that idea you were, so the woman nodded then kicked him in the shoe. You gulped, spotting a strained vein appear on his neck as he clenched his jaw from the assault, before pretending to wake from a peaceful sleep.

“Mm?” He asked in a deep, groggy voice.

“Ticket.” The woman demanded, and you could tell she dealt with his kind at least twice a week. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Single to Ninohe.” He said, sitting up properly, blinking away the fakest of sleeps. The woman put a hand on her hip as you let the information stab you in the gut. Ninohe was further down the line than where you were headed. It seemed you were stuck with him for the long haul.

“You were meant to buy the ticket at the station. How’d you get past the guard?”

Unfazed by the warden’s glare, the man shrugged and reached into his pocket for his wallet.

“We were running late. Would have missed the train if we’d stopped to get tickets.”

“I’m gonna need your full name and address. Travelling without a ticket gets you a fine. And you need to pay for a ticket immediately or I’m kicking you off at the next stop.”

You sucked in your breath, watching how his jaw tensed up as the vein stood more prominently on his neck.

“Fine.” He said in a way that definitely didn’t sound fine, but pulled out his credit card none-the-less. “Touya Todoroki.”

As he told the warden his address, he handed over his credit card to pay for the ticket, telling the warden in an almost-merry voice that she could send the fine to his father, and while she was at it, those of his friends. You heard Toga erupt into fits of giggles before she announced loudly and proudly that her name was Himiko Toga, followed by a lazy announcement from the white haired male that his name was Tomura Shigaraki.

An uncomfortable tingle ran up the length of your spine as soon as the warden’s attention left you. You tried to focus on your book but the harder you tried, the heavier the air around you became. In the end you had to admit defeat. You met Touya’s gaze. When he saw that he had your attention, his stapled lips grew into a grin.

“Well now, you’re a pretty little bird. What’s your name?”

He didn’t sound charming, rather downright lecherous, but you didn’t think he cared when he knew he had you trapped against the window. You pursed your lips together and looked out at the fly-by landscape, hoping he would take the hint.

You lamented your decision to doll yourself up today – the skirt was a definite mistake – but in your defence, you hadn’t expected to be hit on by a random creep on you journey to see some friends.

The tingle in your spine turned into a downright jolt of fear when you felt the man’s hand fall onto your leg. You sat bolt upright and looked at him in pure disbelief.

“Please, don’t do that.” You said in what was meant to be a stern voice, but in the face of such an out-of-the-blue and personal-space invading move, it rather sounded more like a squeak. His grin widened. He asked again,

“What’s your name, little bird?”

In the hopes it would at least convince him to free your leg, you told him your name.

He let go of your leg.

“And where are you headed?”

Telling him your name was one thing. Telling him where you were going was another. You scooted yourself as far into the window as you possibly could, not wanting him to put his hands on you again, but kept your mouth shut. You opened your book and did all you could to engross yourself in the pages.

He made a move towards you but his actions were broken by the sound of his friend, Toga, as she popped up from the seat in front.

“Dabi, Dabi, Dabi,” she said with a teasing grin. “Your dad’s gonna be so fucking pissed. I can’t wait. Let’s get in more trouble, get more fines, and send them all to him.”

“So loud…” grumbled Shigaraki, who seemed content to face forwards for now.

You didn’t want to meet Toga’s gaze. She was intimidating, much more so than Touya… Dabi… whatever his name was. But at least for now, she seemed more focused on her companions.

Until.

“Oh, are we making new friends?” She said, hushing her voice with the widest grin yet. She glanced between you and Dabi, who had yet to take his eyes off you. “Dabi, hun. You’re staring.”

“Me and my little birdie are getting to know each other. Play with Shigaraki for a while.”

Despite the obvious threat in Toga’s direction, she ignored Dabi and smiled hellishly at you.

“I love your outfit. Where did you get your skirt?”

When it was a choice between answering where you were headed or where you got your skirt, you knew who you would much rather have an awkward conversation with.

“Oh, uhmm… I got it a while ago. I’m sorry. I don’t remember. But I like your top.”

You couldn’t see much of her top because of how she was draped across the seat backs, but you hoped flattery would, if the moment came to it, put her on your side against Dabi, whose hand snaked closer to you.

Toga giggled gleefully.

“Oh, this old thing?” She brushed her hands over the shoulders like she was dusting it for lint. “Thank you. You can’t believe how many times I had to bounce the girl’s head off the pavement to make her hand it over. The blood didn’t come out for weeks.”

Your face went pale. You couldn’t tell if she was joking, but honestly weren’t sure you wanted to know the truth for certain.

“You’re scaring her.” Dabi warned, daring Toga to say one more word. “Eyes front.”

She looked at you, looked at Dabi then looked at you once more before rolling her eyes.

“Fine, fine. Nasty… Hey, Shigi. Let me play that game on your phone.”

She disappeared back into her seat. You weren’t totally sure you were happy she was gone. Her presence had at least put Dabi’s advances on pause. Now she was missing, you could feel him staring at you, and you had never regretted your skimpy clothing choices more. Your hands shook as you held onto your book, and you wondered how much of your journey was left. Time seemed to go much slower today, never more so than while Dabi kept his eyes trained on you.

He had you trapped.

Brushing the backs of his fingers over the top of your thigh, he smiled as you flinched from the contact.

“Are you meeting anyone nice when you get off the train?” He asked, the deep hum of his voice rattling through you as he traced your thigh with the back of his hand. He was getting closer and closer, his hand finding the hem of your skirt on today of all days when you had skipped out on a pair of tights.

“M-my friends.” You squeaked. “I-I’m meeting my friends. A big group of them. We’re having a big reunion so there’s a lot of us going and they said they’d pick me up from the station.”

“Oh?” There was a note of amusement in his voice. You were sure he could hear through your lie. You actually were having a reunion, and a lot of you were meeting up, but you were getting a taxi from the station to meet them at the Airbnb. No one was coming to get you. Even if you wanted them to come meet you, you were staying in a luxury cottage in the middle of nowhere and it was at least a half hour drive to the station. What was more, by now everyone would almost definitely have started drinking and it wouldn’t be safe for anyone to drive.

You were on your own.

“Don’t look so frightened, little bird.” Dabi murmured, leaning close enough for you to catch the hint of leathery musk in his cologne. “I won’t hurt you.”

As long as you do what I say, the warning rang in your head. He gripped your thigh more firmly, snaking his fingers under your clothes.

You shot up like a bolt of lightning, out of your seat, dropping your book in the process. You snatched up your handbag then made a move to get past Dabi, into the aisle. He didn’t budge and he certainly didn’t look amused by your defiance. You saw that same vein appear on the side of his neck as he clenched his jaw, his glare asking whether you understood the consequences of your actions should you carry on. Very loudly and very sternly, you said,

“Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

This caught the attention of many other passengers. Good. Even though your face was red and your eyes felt glossy with a mix of shame, embarrassment and fear, grabbing everyone’s attention was just enough of a threat to make Dabi move. He kicked his legs out to the side, into the aisle, giving you just enough room to escape. It didn’t stop him from trailing a finger up your thigh as you moved past him.

Oh God, you felt sick. You felt wronged. You couldn’t sit next to him for another second. Under the guise of heading to the bathroom, you inspected the rest of the carriage for somewhere else to perch. You considered your precious book abandoned, but it was a small price to pay to avoid Dabi’s groping hands.

Unfortunately, though, whether a seat or simply somewhere else to stand, there was a spot for neither when the train was so densely packed with people.

Unsure of what else to do, you made it to the bathroom and went inside, needing it for no other reason than a place to think. At least while you were locked inside the cubical, you didn’t have to worry about sneakily texting your friends to tell them you were turning on your bSafe tracker. They might not be able to come get you, but at least you would feel safer knowing they would get your location if something bad happened – Lord forbidding.

You took a moment to splash water on your face, humming a tune to calm yourself down, then decided to have one last look along the carriage for somewhere else to sit. You felt more confident.

But when you opened the door to get back into the aisle, you immediately saw Toga and paled at her smile.

“Hi, Girlfriend. I wondered where you’d got to. Wait for me outside and we can walk back together, kay?”

She had you blocked in. It was all you could do to agree in case she pushed you back into the cubical and did something to make sure you understood her. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were blowing this out of proportion in your head, but you couldn’t help but notice speckles of pink on the collar of Toga’s top, like a red stain that just wouldn’t wash out.

“O-okay. I’ll wait.”

Toga grinned and stepped aside, letting you out.

“Good girl.”

She skipped past you then waved before shutting herself in the cubical.

You weren’t waiting. You reasoned, if you couldn’t find somewhere else to sit, surely going straight back to where she could harass you anyway wouldn’t upset her. Or so you hoped.

Clutching your handbag to your side, with a nervous shake in your step you made your way back through the carriage, looking for a spare seat. But for the fact you had to weave past so many people standing, the thought of a free chair was nothing short of a miracle.

All too soon you saw the black spikes of Dabi’s hair and the way his long leg jutted out into the aisle, blocking people’s way past him. His gaze locked on to you as soon as you were close enough, and just from the way he sneered, you could tell he wasn’t happy that you’d tried to run off. You felt yourself start to shake. You clutched your handbag, feeling a tight knot in your stomach that made you want to throw up.

Two hours or so, that’s all you had to endure. You could do it. You had to.

You stopped in front of Dabi, hearing your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“E-excuse me.” You said, looking at your feet out of fear. “Pl-please could you move into the window seat?”

When Dabi didn’t reply, you had to look at him but instantly wished you hadn’t. He was smiling up at you, but it was nothing short of demonic, like you had fought against the devil himself and now it was time for your punishment.

“Aren’t you being selfish, little bird? Asking for the aisle seat when my legs are so much longer?”

You caught the threat.

“N-never mind. That’s okay. I’ll stand in the aisle. That’s okay. Please don’t worry. I’ll stay here.”

He sneered, talking to you like you were already his property.

“That’s rather selfish of you, little bird. Blocking everyone’s path.”

Before you could stop him, Dabi gripped your hand and yanked you in beside him -- only something wrapped around your middle, pulling you out before he could trap you.

“Please,” came a kind but rather desperate voice behind you, “Take my seat.”

Dabi’s jaw clenched, a threatening blaze flickering into his eyes.

The thing around your middle jerked you further back, away from Dabi, like it knew you were still in danger, until you bumped into someone standing in the aisle – someone who had not been there seconds ago.

“Please, I insist,” they said, holding you by the shoulders to steady you, then moved aside to let you into their seat across the aisle. To your surprise, it was the tail-guy, his tail wrapped tightly around your middle to pull you to safety.

“It’ll be okay.” He murmured close to your ear, blocking Dabi from getting into the aisle with his whole body. “I won’t let him bother you.”

Not that you didn’t believe him, as his tail was a set of muscles all in itself, but when you sat down, you shuffled across the seats and as far against the window as you could go, just in case Dabi was the type to start fights on busy trains.

“Oi, brat,” you heard Dabi say, and you were sure if you could see his face you would have whimpered, but the threat in his voice did nothing to faze the tail-guy, who looked much more concerned with your state of wellbeing. He ignored Dabi completely, jamming himself half way into the seat beside you with an ironclad stance that not only blocked Dabi from seeing you, but could hold back anyone who tried to get close to you.

“Are you okay?”

You felt sick and stressed, but compared to what you had just been faced with, you were touched by his concern and nodded so that you didn’t trouble him further.

Thankfully he didn’t say anything more, but held himself in place for your benefit, which gave you a chance to calm down. You pressed your hand to your heart and breathed, subconsciously flattening down your skirt as you replayed the events of your journey so far. You were never, never wearing a cute outfit again if you had to take a train—or bus—or plane—anything. You didn’t normally, and this was proof never to do it again.

It took you a while, but eventually you calmed down, slumping in your seat.

What a way to start your time off, you thought. Only you could start it off with something so dramatic.

Trying not to be rude, but rather wanting to take a proper look at your rescuer, you stole a glance at the tailed-guy while he stood his ground, looking along the carriage. He seemed older than you, not by much, and gave off the relaxed vibe of any typical beanie-wearing, skinny-jean wearing hipster. He looked quiet, like someone at peace with his own company. You appreciated the calming effect he had on you when quite likely, there was a screw-loose sociopath glaring daggers into him on his other side.

You wanted to thank him, but felt silly and embarrassed if he didn’t know the extent of the ordeal he had rescued you from. You would thank him, but maybe once it was your stop.

That was…

…unless he got off first.

Sneaking in amongst the calm, a seed of worry formed in the pit of your stomach. That was right. There was no guarantee this Good Samaritan needed to stay on the train for as long as you. You wondered what the chances were of Dabi and Toga leaving you alone if he alighted before you. The very least you could pray for was that he stayed on the train past the first stop, so maybe Dabi had a chance to either calm down or set his sights on someone else.

You pulled out your phone and messaged your friends’ group chat:

‘LOL having the train journey from hell. Get a stiff drink ready for me if I’m not abducted first x x x’

Perhaps now wasn’t the right time for humour, but it was all you could do to calm your nerves at the thought of being hunted around the train by two creeps and their clearly just along for the ride friend.

You were so caught up in a web of worry that you didn’t notice the psychotic blonde skipping her way down the busy carriage, not caring who she shoved out of her way to get back to her seat. You might not have noticed her at all, except your guardian swished his tail up to block her view as she got closer, drawing your attention to the top of her head before she disappeared into her seat.

“Where’s she gone?” You heard Toga ask. There was clear accusation in her voice, like you had no right to be anywhere else but under her torment. Hopefully though, that was the end of it. If they weren’t ready to harass the tail-guy in order to get to you, it was likely they would lose interest and move on. They didn’t know which stop you were getting off at. If tailman left before you did, you could follow him down the train, pretend it was your stop then find another place to perch, out of sight.

At least you could close the lid on this chapter of your trip.

Toga’s sudden and shrill laugh made your skin crawl, but that still did not prepare you for what she said afterwards.

“Dabi’s gonna get you, Dabi’s gonna get you, Dabi’s gonna—”

It was so sinister that you spluttered and choked. You were probably naïve to think she wasn’t aiming the chant towards you, so you clutched your hands to your chest and sank in your chair, hoping with everything you had that the tail-guy would stay beside you for the rest of your journey.

You dared to look at him again, trying to guess his chances should the trio actually try to forcefully move him at any point, and it was then, while Toga continued to chant, that you caught him giving you a sideways glance, clearly uneased by the hostility pouring in from his far side. His jaw was set tight and his brows were drawn inward, then when he caught you looking back at him he opened his mouth to talk. But then, he shut it. You could see an internal struggle as he debated what to do.

The guilt that hit you was uncomfortable, to say the least. You couldn’t let this carry on; leaving a total stranger to defend you. You had put him in a difficult position and it was wrong to have him fight your battle. If he was staying on the train past your stop, you couldn’t leave him stood up there until you alighted. It was selfish and rude of you to use him as nothing more than a wall. You didn’t even know his name.

“Excuse m—” you began, but didn’t finish your sentence when the guy looked at you one more time before he slipped down into the seat beside you, leaving his tail up to keep the two of you hidden from view.

“Sorry,” he said, passing you a gentle, reassuring smile. “I wasn’t going to get involved, but I don’t like what’s happening.”

With perfect timing, Toga chimed in with a maniacal ‘don’t think you’re safe behind that tail~’

“My name’s Ojiro.” He said a little louder, hoping to cut over any more outbursts from the trio. “Sorry. You don’t know me. I know this is weird. But please stay sat with me for as long as you want. Please don’t let them intimidate you. I know I don’t look it, but I really won’t let them do anything to you.”

After his declaration, he let out a breath, like he had rerouted all of his energy into saying something so embarrassing but heartfelt, and now that it was over he could function like a normal human and breathe again.

You had a lot of questions. He was saying everything you wanted to hear, and for someone you had only just met, he seemed unusually committed to your protection, but there was just something in his eyes that put you at ease. 

Unlike the ruffian trio who gave off nothing but the most sinister and repugnant of auras, it was hard to find a trace of malice in Ojiro’s expression. His entire presence, now that it was focused towards you, felt like one of the white knights of old, sworn by honour codes, chivalry and compassion. It felt almost criminal for him to be in a beanie and hoodie instead of paladin robes.

Never the less. You had to relieve this modern day knight of his duties before you took up too much of his time or he got himself in trouble.

“Thank you,” you said softly, feeling your heart wobbling giddily when he smiled in response, “But please don’t worry about me. As soon as the train quietens down, I’ll swap into a different seat somewhere. I’ll leave you in peace.”

You landed him with your most convincing ‘I’m okay’ smile but if anything, your words caused him to frown.

“It’s no trouble, honestly.” He lowered his voice and leaned in towards you. Realising he did not want to be overheard, you leaned in closer so he could say, “I saw what was going on before. I heard what was going on. Please. You can forget I’m next to you. But please don’t move seats.”

He seemed hesitant to tell you something, like perhaps he had overheard something while you were in the bathroom, but you were happy to respect the pleading in his voice without the whole story. You nodded, making a show of making yourself more comfortable.

“Okay, umm…”

“Ojiro.” He prompted again, smiling now that you were allowing him to keep an eye on you.

“Ojiro. Okay. Ojiro, glad to meet you, my gallant travel buddy.”

You held out your hand, genuinely happy to have stumbled onto such a knight in a floppy beanie hat. Though you couldn’t say your nerves were gone entirely, you faked a grin to show Ojiro that he had no need to worry about you. 

These next two hours together seemed like they were going to be a breeze.

------

[PART 2] Coming soon.

[WRITING MASTERLIST]

[cottoncandy-cult]

New Kind Of Home Pt 2

Zelman Clock X Fledgling! Reader

(Y/n) giggled from where she sat in her room, she was a fledgling black blood that had recently joined the "darkness" of the special zone. She lived in Zelman Clock's manor; she was one of the few maids who took care of the east wing of the second floor. This had been Zelman's wing, which thankfully meant it didn't get near as messy as some of the other areas since Zelman himself wasn't innately messy. Like the other maids she was paid nicely, so she often spent her money on food and her hobbies. One thing she had become really taken with was making candles, sure there were all kinds of things she could do in this day and age but candle making had just really caught her eye. She loved getting to pick the scents and make the designs, she even had a little shop online to sell her creations. Of course, everyone knew about her hobby, at any kind of gift giving event she often made custom candles for the people she was close to. Currently she was sat on her bed, a sketch pad on her lap as she doodled some ideas for some new candle designs. Though she was quick to put down her pencil when a knock at the door caught her attention, she looked up in the direction of the sound as she sat up straight. "Come in." She tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow as she saw her boss come in. "Hey there, Sayuka said you missed lunch, so I came to check on you." He stepped into the room, his hands in his pockets as he glanced around. Despite being seen as a villain by some, Zelman paid attention to those who served under him and took great care of them.

"Sorry, I got hit with some inspiration and lost track of time." The young woman sat the sketch pad to the side, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "You can sit down if you like Sir." She smiled sweetly as the red-haired old blood chuckled, moving to sit in the chair at her desk. "So, what kind of candles are you making this time? Those cupcake candles you did for Jura's birthday were pretty popular." Zelman leaned forward, peaking at her sketch pad. Something she happily passed to him, (Y/n) loved getting to talk about her creations. "I wanna do some pie themed candles, I was thinking of doing 3 kinds. Apple and cinnamon, Peach and Vanilla, and Mixed berry. I was gonna keep the design simple, layer 3 different colors each." She pointed to the designs, explaining her thoughts as she indicated to the colored layers of each candle drawing. "I see, simple and classic is always appreciated. I think the Peach one sounds best though, so make sure you make an extra for me, ok?" He had winked at the woman, not oblivious to her blush as she nodded her head quickly. "Of course, if you ever have any requests let me know. I like getting to make personalize candles."

The young woman scratched the back of her head in embarrassment, trying to talk away her flustered cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind, I'm sure you've noticed I always have a candle burning in my favorite rooms. So, it would be nice to get something personally made for me, having it be one of your products just makes it all the better." His words had (H/c) female stuttering and stumbling over her words, something that stopped with a squeak when one of Zelman's large hands gently cradled her cheek. He stared into her eyes, his grin never faltering. "Just as I thought, you're even cuter when you're flustered." His thumb stroked her cheek, and in her flustered state all she could think to do was hide her face. So, she turned it into his palm, closing her eyes as she listened to Zelman chuckle. "Would you like to have lunch with me (Y/n)? A new restaurant opened in the old sector, so I was going to check it out." He slowly sat back, removing his hand as she had finally met his gaze once more. "S-sure, I've finished writing down my ideas anyways…" She bit her lip, her hand fiddling with the pencil that sat on her bed. "Let me get ready first, I don't wanna go out in public in my maid outfit. That would draw so much attention." She blushed darker at the thought, having made the mistake of doing it once and there wasn't a single person that WASN'T looking at her. Though her words made Zelman laugh, nodding his head. "Understandable, I'll be waiting in the common room downstairs. Meet me down there when you're ready." He winked at her again just to see her flustered face once more, then moved to stand and exit the room. Once that door closed behind him (Y/n) flopped back on her bed, her hands resting over her racing heart as she took several deep breaths. She wasn't oblivious to how attractive her boss was, the other female workers were often desperate for his attention and fawned over the older male. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, despite his behavior she didn't want to assume this was a date and embarrass herself later by saying the wrong things.

Though she didn't spend long like this, after all he was waiting on her regardless of the reason why they would be sharing this meal. It didn't take long for (Y/n) to get changed, she didn't do anything too fancy. A simple (F/c) sundress with some black tights and a pair of flats, she had worn a few bracelets around one wrist and a chain necklace that had a red jewel which rested against her collarbone. Her footsteps were quick but quiet, not wanting to seem desperate or accidentally trip in front of him. Before she entered the common room, (Y/n) came to a stop and took a moment to brush out the skirt of her dress and adjust the top to make sure it was settled comfortably but nicely. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting Sir." She entered the room with a shy smile, he had changed as well into something a little less recognizable for him. Leaving his beanie off he had brushed out his hair, settling on wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Despite the relaxed look, he still brought color to her cheeks at the sight. "Not at all, I actually just set down before you arrived." He moved to stand, approaching her with his hands in his pockets. He stood close to her, offering her a fanged smile as his cologne engulfed her. "You ready to head out? I was checking the reviews, and this place is supposed to have some pretty good grilled food." He offers her his arm, grinning at her darkening blush while she slipped her arm within his own and nodded.

All she could do was swallow quietly; afraid she'd stumble over her words if she tried to speak in that moment. She took a slow breath, looking up at him as calmly as she could. "Thanks for inviting me, it's been a while since I've gone somewhere new to eat." She looked away from him after that statement as they made their way out the door, causing the old blood to chuckle and hold his head high. "It's no fun to try something new alone, besides you always make for interesting company." His bold words made her heart flutter, she had to focus on her breathing a moment as she looked up at him once more. "I enjoy your company as well, Cayne and Sei can be somewhat intimidating so I'm glad it's you I work under." This made Zelman chuckle, his head tilting as he gave her a fond look. "I'm glad you're so comfortable with me, I'd hate to think I scare you. I'm glad Sayuka brought you to my home, as a fledgling I can imagine it was quite lonely coming to the special zone on your own." His words held an understanding tone, Zelman had seen many people come and go within the special zone and within his domain. Most of those that came on their own found themselves feeling lost, the special zone was a big place and could be a little hard to get used to.

"I will admit it was overwhelming, I was beyond lost in the city and if it wasn't for Sayuka I'm not sure I would have found a place to live that night. I was a bit scared at first, I wasn't really sure what I should be doing but you made it easy for me being so naturally organized." She smiled softly at the thought as she stared ahead, she had been so afraid at first. But she had been given ample patience to get adjusted to her new life. "You reminded me of a kitten when you were first brought back, soaked in the rain and jumping at every noise. It was pretty cute, I felt bad for your cause you looked so out of place. So, I had you placed in my personal wing since I figured it would be low maintenance and easier for you to adjust to. I meant to adjust your duties once you had got used to the place, but there was no real need for it and since I needed someone to clean my wing anyways, I decided to just let you stay where you were. Plus, I got used to seeing you in the mornings on my way to breakfast. It was a nice routine, and I wasn't ready to give it up yet, I know you aren't a morning person but watching you sleepily waddle down the halls just makes my day." He chuckled as he looked to her, seeing the way her cheeks flushed as she looked into his eyes made his own still heart beat once more. "You aren't wrong, I hate being awake early but the sooner I get my chores done the sooner I can read or work on my hobbies." She turned her head to the side, subconsciously leaning into his side and not noticing til his arm slipped out of hers and wrapped around her waist. It left her flustered at first, though she had soon melted into his side as she took comfort in his presence despite how he made her heart race uncontrollably.

"You know, I'd like to spend more time with you if you're up to it. I'd love to see how you make your candles, if that's ok." He smiled down at her, one of his pointed fangs visible as they walked together. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she hoped it made it harder for him to see her face directly. "I wouldn't mind, no one's ever asked to see how I do it before. Maybe you can help me design a candle, you know pick out the colors and smells and stuff…" She bit her lip, fighting the urge to meet his gaze which she could feel focus on her. "Alright, it's a date then." He winked at her when she looked at him in shock over his wording, causing him to give into his urge and press a kiss to her cheek before watching her brain short circuit. They slowed to a stop as she stared at him as if he just laid the stars at her feet. Releasing her side he took her hand, raising an eyebrow as he pressed another more gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles and kick start her brain once more causing her to stumble over various words before giving up and hanging her head while hiding her face with her hand. He loved her reactions; it made him want to smother her with affection until she was a flustered mess. For now though, he held back, lacing his fingers with her own as he led the way to the restaurant for their planned lunch.

[stuairi675]

Mob Frogs on the Wave 

Word Count: 1095

The juddering creak of the door headed the arrival of the two men. The bar was clouded by a low-hanging miasma of cigarette smoke and an even-lower sense of self-esteem.

Fowler – a doughy, blithe man in a messy brown suit and crooked green tie – swaggered towards the bartender, indifferent to the icy stares he drew. Icy stares that were not lost on his companion, Simian; a taller, broader-framed man in a white shirt and waistcoat. His gaze drifted analytically about the room.

“You’ve done it now, boys,” groused the barkeep.

Fowler took a seat. 

“Whiskey. Sammy, anything?” He grinned. “It’s on me.”

Simian grunted: “It always is.”

“You’ve upset people,” said the barkeep, handing Fowler his drink.

“We’re criminals, we're meant to,” he shrugged, “They’ll get over it.”

“Your dead body, maybe," said the barkeep, shaking his head, "Not them.”

“And who are them, exactly?”

The sound of the door thundered through the room.

Fowler swivelled on his seat, “Oh them.”

Three figures sauntered into the light. The first was a woman with red hair and a pristine suit. The second was a blonde with an open jacket and loose tie, carrying a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. The third, wearing braces and a navy bow tie, was a towering specimen of a man.

“Alright, boys,” said the red-head to the room in general, “take a load off somewhere else. We’ve reserved the venue for business purposes.”

The bar emptied.

“Sorry, boys,” whispered the barkeep from behind, “good luck.” He left via a backdoor, which he promptly locked.

“Ahh, Clarisse,” greeted Fowler, raising his glass as they approached.  

“Lawrence,” said the red-head, “been a while. I actually go by Scarlet now.”

“Oh, because of the…” he gestured to her hair.

“No," she laughed, "actually because of this,” a knife ejected from her sleeve. She twirled it theatrically.

Simian tensed. 

Fowler looked impressed, smiling dreamily, “I see you got a posse now. Good on you, going up in the world. Makes me think of the old days, when it was just me and you. Do you think about them as well?”

“I try not to.”

“Aw, now don’t be like that. You must miss me a little?”

“Not really, no. You were actually quite easy to replace. You met Stacie?” Scarlet gestured to the blonde.

Fowler studied her, “You know the law don’t take kindly to that kinda thing.”

“The law doesn’t like anything we do. Never stopped us before.” She nodded to her right, “And this is Ollie.”

The man grunted.

 “So,” said Fowler, “what can we do you for?”

“Boss ain’t happy with your little stunt. We’re here to deliver the… how’d you used to put it?”

“Severance package?”

The glint of Scarlet’s knife matched her smile, “That’d be it.”

“That wasn’t our fault,” said Simian, "Certainly wasn't mine."

Fowler winked at him.

“Yeah,” Scarlet acknowledged, “but as long as you’re alive, it’s our problem.”

“Listen,” he said diplomatically, “We can make good. We’ll pay anything.”

“Good,” she said, “How’s blood?”

“Actually, we’re a bit tight on that,” said Fowler, sipping his drink, “Anything else?”

“Nope. Sorry boys, you’re out of options.”

“Weird,” said Fowler, drawing a revolver from inside his jacket, “because I count five. Ten if I get a chance to reload.”

“Lawrence,” Simian hissed.

“Do you have a better idea?”

Simian contemplated this briefly before scowling and drawing his own gun.

There was a blur of red and white as Scarlet lunged. She got in quick and knocked the gun away, the bullet biting into the roof. Fowler managed to grab her wrist with the blade inches from his neck.

Simian was forced to roll away, a barbed baseball bat slamming into the space he had previously occupied.

 “I’m not gonna lie, Lawrence,” Scarlet said, her blade working its way to his throat, “It brings me no small amount of pleasure to do this.”

“Yeah well, brings me the opposite to do this.” 

Fowler grabbed his drink and threw it in her face. She reeled. He headbutted her and smashed the glass over her head.

“And I was really enjoying that,” he said sadly before looking up into the eye of a semi-automatic handgun. He leapt away as fire spat from the muzzle. 

Running for his discarded gun, he huddled behind a pillar and thumbed the hammer back, “Seriously,” he shouted, “You had a gun and you start off with the knife!?”

"Basing on how you usually 'performed' during our relationship,” Scarlet hissed as she unloaded the magazine, “I wasn't expecting it to be all this difficult.”

“I’m so glad I cut it off with you.”

“I left you!”

“Well, we both had our problems.”

“Difference was you were in bed with yours.”

“Didn’t mean you had to pull a gun on her!”

“Then I guess things never change, cause I was always aiming at you.”

There was a lull in the assault and Fowler emerged, revolver cocked. 

Gunfire crisscrossed about the room. 

Scarlet was struck in the shoulder, Fowler in the leg. He didn’t even have time to fall before Scarlet was upon him, knife drawn. They fell together and hit the wall, the knife being driven ever closer to Fowler’s face.

"Look at this," Scarlet almost whispered, "Caught between a girl and a hard place; story of your life, eh Fowler? Ain't it poetic?"

“Clarisse, please,” he grunted. “We can sort this out. You know I’ve always been an advocate of women in the workplace.”

“Only cause then they’re within easy reach,” seethed the mobster, an unremitting hatred in her eyes.

There was a creak from the door. Fowler cast his gaze to watch as Ollie stumbled out the bar, seemingly injured.

There was a blast of bright light and Scarlet suddenly went flying. Fowler propped himself on his arms and looked about confused until he spotted Simian, a shotgun in his hands.

"Good shot!"

"Not really," said Simian, "I was aiming for you."

“Where’d you get it?”

“Benny keeps it behind the bar in case of emergencies. Forgot about it till I was thrown on it.”

“Well, ain’t that a- Look out!”

Simian only just managed to watch as the bat was lodged into his gut. He doubled over and fell as Stacie ran by, picking Scarlet up by the arms.

“I got you, boss,” she assured as they hobbled out the bar.

The door settled belligerently into its frame and silence descended.

“Fowler,” said Simian eventually.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take a scotch.”

“I’m sorry?”

“A scotch. If it’s on you, a scotch.”

[hvrtbroken]

NICO IS GLAD FOR THE DISTANCE . inside that cramped living room there was an abundance of static electricity . he'd always felt something vaguely alike it when he was around star , but tonight it feels dangerous yet SOLID . it feels like turning over a blank page and starting afresh . he exhales , softly , standing over the kitchen faucet , running the water for a few seconds ( making sure it's clean and filtered ) before filling up a cup for her . when nico returns ( that is , turns around , because the apartment is SMALL ) , he can really see it in the way that star must . claustrophobic and messy , with cracked walls , peeling paint , lights dim or stuttering . THERE'S ANOTHER POLICE SIREN , which is something nico is well adjusted to but through HER eyes and HER ears . . it all seems like a lot .

" here . " he offers , placing the glass down beside her , before clearing his throat and moving some of the clutter on the table away from her . " sorry again . . . about the mess . " IT'S SILLY to apologise about such a thing when it's so clearly not on her mind . nico never thought he'd have star in a time or space that wasn't STRICTLY work . he doesn't know what to do with his hands . he wants to touch her cheeks again . he wants to lean closer to her . he wants to do a lot of things . instead, he picks up his beer and takes a long draw from it . it immediately warms him , pooling all the way down to the pit of his belly ( or maybe that's just star being so CLOSE to him ) . " i like you too . " nico's words are said so delicately that he almost wonders if he was a coward and DIDN'T say them out loud to her . he wants to laugh at himself . ' i like you ' is such a small way to describe how he feels about star . he takes another long sip , yet lets the scent of her infiltrate his nose . he closes his eyes , mouth still on the lip of the bottle , but he doesn't drink again . " star . . . this is my job . " he feels he has to remind her , or remind himself . or both . " and this is my apartment . " nico adds , sweeping an arm around awkwardly . he has to hunch to ensure he doesn't hit his OWN HEAD on the doorframe to his bedroom . it's all SO MUCH and he has so LITTLE to give her , when really he wants to her so so so much more .

NICO EXHALES , before sitting down next to her . his knee grazes against hers and he tries not to focus on the fact that her knee is BARE . just skin , so close to touching his . he chances a quick glance at her , before looking in front of him , at his television running on mute , screen half static . " everytime i'm with you - " he stops . clears his throat . he looks down at his hands holding the beer bottle when they should be holding her . " i want to kiss you . " MORE THAN KISS YOU . devour you . swallow you whole . drink from you , while on his knees , begging for more . she is a god that he'd happily pray to . " BUT THIS COULD REALLY FUCK THINGS UP . " nico is aware that he's a seesaw , moving up and down , negative to positive , light to dark . he can't help it . this is how his brain works - he does not know any other way to be . " . . . i could really fuck YOU up . " nico's voice dries at that , because it's his biggest fear , worry , concern , all tied together with a wonky little bow over it . he shifts his weight on the dilapidated couch , so he can half - face her . HE NEEDS HER TO UNDERSTAND what he cannot put into words . he needs her to see what this ( his ) life is and why SHE matters and that's why it's all so holy . " do you . . . get what i'm saying ? " they're from two completely different worlds . they weren't meant to collide in the way that they did .

star's a preparer. usually, she'd take in every angle and be ready for anything. sure, she'd focus on the most likely, but still give some thought towards other possibilities, even if just to imagine the outcomes. this, however? she'd tunnel visioned into this, sure he'd reject her. sure he would never feel the same way. there was no other explanation after that night, the night she understood her own crush. but then nico steps closer and her eyes widen even more. nothing could have prepared her for this. she nearly, so very nearly instinctively steps back in time with him, parts of her brain anxious that he's mad for some reason. that her feelings were going to be met with disgust. but she stands still, a frozen statue, rigid and unmoving.

and then just as quickly, she melts. because his hand cups her face, and the warmth she'd been craving, needing for the past few weeks returns in that moment. all at once, the floor returns from under her but the world around them disappears ( and she's pissed at herself because how the fuck is she supposed to get over him when something like this gets her? ) her eyes widen, somehow larger than before, blinking up at nico in a type of silent shock. one of the tears that had been pooling in her eye falls to the side when he asks: why would i reject you? what? "because . . . i-" her voice is small, impossibly so and the words don't seem to come out. you said professional. you don't want me this way, right? replies jumble up into words into incoherent jabber in her head because slowly, she can comprehend is the warmth of him and she remembers how greedy she can get when it comes to nico.

"o . . . okay." what's there to talk about? the still coherent part of her snaps, but the majority of her is still struggling to compute what's happening that she nods dumbly. ( misses his touch immediately when he pulls away. ) star's a bit shellshocked, in all honestly, mind loud with static. moves over to his couch, but can't stop looking at him, afraid something might happen, that he'd disappear. maybe even realize he's saying the wrong things. when she sits down on the comfortable cushions, she's immediately covered in his scent, something she doesn't comprehend until right then that she wants all over her.

why would i reject you? his words echo in her brain again and again, along with the image of him so close to her face. doesn't want to keep her hopes up still, even if the implications of those words tell her otherwise. feels her heartbeat pick up in pace so quickly that it's worrying.

[luveline]

ive never done an ask before so sorry if i type it out wrong but could you do a eddie munson x reader where reader color's in eddie's tattoos i literally cannot stop thinking about it 😭 really just pure fluff and them goofing around

thank you for your request this is literally the sweetest idea ever! i didn't nail the goofing but he's a sweetheart and hot <3 0.9k

Eddie looks cute sitting in front of your desk in your soft backed chair. He's curious but careful as he picks over pen stands and coloured pencils. 

"Can I see some of your work?" he asks. 

You could kiss him right there for calling it 'work'. He's never once been dismissive about your art, though most everyone else in your life calls it a hobby or your 'little side job'. 

You stand up from the bed and move to his side. His arm wraps around your waist lightly, easy as you open the desk drawer for your current small sketchbook where you thumbnail paintings. 

"All my canvases are down in the garage," you say. 

"I'd love to see them." 

He opens your sketchbook with infinite care, arm quickly stolen from your skin. You hover anxiously by his side, waiting for his verdict. He's quiet as he turns each page, not patronising you in pretending that every single sketch is interesting, but an honest peruse of your talents. 

He stops on a drawing of him. Quite recent, you'd forgotten all about it. In his club shirt with the sleeves pushed up, a quick rendering of the planes and shadow of his arms, less detail but enough to make out his face through a curtain of curls. 

"Is it biased if I say this is the best one?" he asks, hands splayed over the page, face turned to you. He's grinning. 

"Very biased," you say. "I've messed up all your tattoos. You were moving too fast." 

He turns to the page and raises his eyebrows. "They look just fine to me." 

He's lying, of course. They're blurs of dark without detail. 

"You have to say that." 

"I don't have to do anything," he says. You shiver as his hand wraps around your back again, his touch featherlight. A ring scrapes your skin as he slips his fingers under the fabric of your t-shirt.

"If you'd only stay still," you whine. 

He tips his head back and pouts at you mockingly for a split-second before chuckling warmly. "You're tortured, bub." 

The pet name has your chest aflame with heat. You look at his shirt rather than his face, toying gently with one of his messy dark curls. "Whatever," you say, wanting to move on before he does something to tease you.

He pushes the chair back and encourages you into his lap. You sit tentatively on his leg, aware of every point of contiguity between you as his hand finds your soft tummy over your shirt. The other arm he lays flat on your desk.

"Take a look." 

You rub your face with your shoulder, unsure. Eddie squeezes you, reassuring. "Go on." 

Your relationship is new enough that you haven't seen every tattoo properly. You leap at the chance to study them. Despite your nervousness at this proximity you lean forward on his knees and take his arm into your hands. 

You like the first one over the smooth inner stretch of his forearm, it suits him, a demon of some sort puppeteered by a bony hand. Turning his arm over, you find his flock of bats tapering over his elbow. Familiar, you could likely draw them from memory. 

You're holding your breath as you turn in the circle of his arm, finger pushing carefully under his shirt sleeve to expose the scary bird/lizard amalgamation that you don't recognise, its frilled spines flared and its mouth open. 

"I like them," you say. 

He pulls you up his leg. "Yeah?" 

"Mm. Would you ever get something in colour?" 

"Sure, I'd love some colour. S'just expensive as shit, so…" 

He sounds embarrassed. It's not what you meant to do, and you rush to fix it with a spur of the moment thought. 

"Could I colour one?" 

"Could you?" he asks, voice low, laughing a laugh that's more breath than sound. 

You burn, shifting forward to take a marker into your hands. He keeps a good hold on your abdomen to keep you anchored. It's nice. 

You take a light red into your hands, slow and steady as you set it to his pale skin and fill in the majority of his demon. Then, with a slightly darker red, the midtones. You round it out with a dark purple in the shadows, giving the demon a more three dimensional feel. 

"Is it too cold?" you ask as you go, voice a murmur. 

Eddie rubs the tip of his nose against your shoulder. "It's fine." 

"You don't want to watch?"

"No way. Tell me when you're done, I want the full effect. Blow me away." 

You nod and flush with heat and finish up as the heat of his body soaks into yours, relaxing in his lap as time passes. 

"There," you say, capping a black fineliner. "I'm done, Eds." 

Eddie pushes his chin over your shoulder to take in what you've done. 

"Baby, that's fucking sick. Oh my god," he sounds sad, beggy, in that awful way boys do. "I want that for keeps." 

You smile because you're glad he likes it. You'd thought you'd done a pretty good job, too. 

"You have talented hands," he says into your ear, voice warped by a clear double entendre. 

You melt, a shiver coursing down your back as you lean towards him unthinkingly. 

"I'm not gonna shower. I need it forever." 

Spell quickly broken, you wrinkle your nose. "That's disgusting."

"That's punk rock, babe." 

[shirakumos-sandwich-shop]

🍂Zhongli x fem reader 🍂

🍂Single Dad, modern au. 🍂

Feat. Xiao as a kid cause why not.

(Idk why I wrote this, let me just die of embarrassment while I post it anyway.)

“Did you have a good day at school Xiao?” You asked the tiny four year old.

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Why not? Did something happen?” You crouched down to his level.

“Ajax was mean to me again.” The little one whimpered. “He said my hair was stupid.”

You made a mental note to tell the child’s father once he got home.

“That’s not nice of him.” You tousled the boy’s colorful locks. “Don’t listen to him, your hair is perfect.”

“You think so?” He gave you big round golden puppy eyes that made your heart melt.

“Yes of course I do!” He smiled at your words. His little arms held out asking for you to pick him up. You scooped him into your arms and carried him off to the car. He was tiny but still heavy.

“Y/n?” He questioned.

“Yes Xiao?” You smiled.

“Why doesn’t daddy pick me up from school?” He said sadly.

“Your daddy has to work.”

“Oh…” the little one sighed. “Why does daddy work so much?”

“He has a very important job.” You answered.

You got to the car and buckled him into the car seat.

“Ajax said my dad works for dead people! Is that true?”

“What?” It took you a second to realize he meant the funeral parlor. “No sweetie, he doesn’t work for dead people.” You didn’t want to traumatize him with the details at such a young age.

You got into the driver's seat and drove out of the school parking lot. He was quiet all the way home and just stared out the window. After a short drive you pulled into the driveway of the large house. You let Xiao out of his car seat and he held his arms out to you to be held. He certainly was a clingy child. You carried him through the quiet house to the living room and set him down.

“I’m gonna make you a snack, is there anything you want?” You asked him.

“Almond tofu!” He exclaimed.

“You can’t have that for every meal, Xiao.” You chided.

“Oh..” he thought hard. “Apples then… but can I have just a bite of almond tofu?” He persisted.

“Would you rather have some now or save it till dessert? Cause I know you’ll ask for it again after dinner.”

“Fine… I’ll wait.” He sighed.

You patted his head and went to fix him a plate of sliced apples, you added some crackers and juice for good measure and brought it to him. He nibbled on the snacks happily and then decided it was time to color.

Time went on like this till nightfall. Xiao drew a dragon that he wanted to give to his dad. He was really just the cutest. You checked the clock, Xiao’s father should be back soon. It was getting late and Xiao was getting peckish again so you decided to get dinner ready for them so they could eat when he came back from work. You went to the kitchen and started preparing a good meal of chicken, rice, and vegetables.

“What about almond tofu?” The persistent child asked.

“I’ll do that next.” You calmed him. You went ahead and got started on the dessert so it would be ready later. Cooking wasn’t really required in your job description but you did it once in a while. The boy’s father always seemed to be so tired when he got back.

You heard the door open and Xiao scrambled to run to the door.

“Daddy!” You heard his exclaim from the other room. “Look what y/n helped me draw today!”

“That’s amazing!” You heard him reply. “Let’s go put it on the fridge!”

Zhongli entered the kitchen with his son dragging him by the hand. He looked very tired but tried to be energetic for his excited child.

“Hello, y/n.” Zhongli said softly.

“Hello, I went ahead and made dinner for you.”

“Oh you didn’t have to..”

“It’s okay, I wanted to. There is enough for leftovers. Let me just finish Xiao’s favorite and I’ll be on my way.”

“Would you just like to stay for dinner?” He asked.

“Oh no I couldn’t impose.” You blushed nervously.

“You're not imposing, you made the dinner after all.” He smiled at you awkwardly. “We’d love to have you stay, right Xiao?”

The little one jumped up and down and ran to hug your leg.

“Please stay, y/n.” He gave you the irresistible puppy eyes again.

“Of course, I’ll stay. I can’t say no to you.” You ruffled his colorful hair.

Zhongli smiled to himself while he witnessed the interaction. No one had been able to get Xiao to open up like you had. He used to be such a quiet child until you came along. Maybe it was just his imagination but he felt that you were having a similar effect on him as well.

You felt a bit awkward at dinner, Zhongli had never invited you to stay before. Your crush on him was driving you crazy, thinking of all the reasons he could have asked you to stay. You were just Xiao’s nanny so you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Throughout dinner Zhongli grew more comfortable as the evening continued. It felt natural having the three of you there together. He wondered as he always did when he saw you, if you might be the answer he was looking for. Xiao had always been begging him for a mother. Zhongli wanted to make him happy, he tried to go on dates but no one seemed to fit. No one except you. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered asking you out, but every time he considered saying something it didn’t seem like the right time.

“Y/n! Come read bedtime story!” Xiao was already dragging you off by the hand to his room. Zhongli cleaned up the dishes and then followed you to the boy’s room. It would be a difficult task getting you out of Xiao’s clutches so you could go home and get some rest. He was also feeling the fatigue of the day and felt like he could fall asleep any second. He found the pair in Xiao’s room looking at books. The little boy already had a stack of all his favorites that he wanted to read with you. The little one looked up happily at his father when he entered the room.

“Xiao, I’m sure y/n needs to get home and rest. Why don’t you save the books for another time?” Zhongli told the boy.

Xiao’s eyes widened and nearly teared up. He looked at you for confirmation.

“Y/n? You don’t have to leave yet do you?” The little one whimpered. He gave you the adorable puppy eyes once again.

“I can read one book with you.” you looked up at Zhongli. “Is that okay? I’d hate to disappoint him, he’s so excited.” Zhongli smiled at you and wondered how he could possibly deserve someone like you.

“As long as your not too tired.” He agreed.

Xiao looked at his bed skeptically. It was not big enough for all three of you. He was accustomed to his father laying on his bed with him while being read to. With you there now there was simply not enough room. He came to a quick conclusion on how to fix the problem and grabbed onto both your hand and Zhongli’s and led you off to his father’s room. He climbed up on the big bed and waited expectantly. You blushed at the idea of even just sitting on his bed. Zhongli had similar thoughts and looked away awkwardly. Xiao had already opened the book and was sitting there expectantly. Neither of you wanted to disappoint him so you went and sat on either side of the child.

Xiao nestled into the crook of your arm and gave you the book to read. As you started reading you felt yourself get more comfortable and sleepy. You were so sleepy you became unaware of Zhongli’s arm behind your shoulders or the adoring glances he gave you.

Zhongli was drifting off as well, it had been a long day for him. And now with you leaning against him and quieting his mind with the story you were reading he felt at peace. Your head fell onto his shoulder and he sleepily pulled you closer. The scent of your hair was the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep. Xiao stood up on his tiny legs and patted your head and then Zhongli’s.

“Lumine said that only mommies and daddies sleep in the same bed..” his little brain tried to work out what this meant. He climbed off the bed and jumped on his own bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Zhongli woke to find you cuddled against his chest with his arms around you. He gently tucked your now messy hair out of your face and your eyes fluttered open. You gasped when you saw who you were snuggled against and jerked back from his touch.

“I’m sorry.” You squeaked. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I should go.” You scrambled out of bed and made for the door.

“Y/n wait!” He jumped up and hugged you from behind. You felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest. “Y/n, I really like you.”

You twisted around in his arms to look at him.

“I like you too Zhongli.”

He smiled softly at your words and looked at your lips. You melted into his arms as he leaned down to kiss you. It was short, sweet, and perfect. He pulled away and gave you an unusually mischievous look. You squealed as he scooped you up and carried you back to the bed. He peppered you with kisses and held you close. You snuggled against him as he pulled the bed covers up over you.

“It’s Saturday, I don’t have work. Want to stay here for a while?”

You nodded at his request and pressed a kiss to his lips. At this moment Xiao came in search of the two of you. He climbed up on the bed and you gasped in surprise. He bounced his way into your arms and giggled. The little boy snuggled between you and Zhongli.

“Does this mean you’re my mommy now?” He asked seriously. You blushed furiously but Zhongli just looked at you happily.

“I hope so.” He told his son.

You blushed even harder and hid yourself in his chest. And so the three of you cuddled in bed until Xiao announced he wanted breakfast.

[pippytmi]

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

[ihatebnha]

 deku + love notes

...where in which I am once again reminded that I am bad at introspection… although tbh, I never really forgot. Sometimes, when I have a headcanon about a character that is so vivid, particular, or strong, I flounder trying to figure out what I want to say. Deku and… being sorta… artistically well versed is one of them. Makes me emotional lowkey LOL... so I’m floundering. 

This was inspired by a note I found at work though and it just had to come out.

(warning: dunno. gendernuetral)

-

You knew, from the second you started dating Izuku Midoriya, that it wouldn’t be easy. In his own words, from his own mouth, he told you that he would never be around… not because he didn’t want to be, but because he couldn’t be. 

It’s fine. It sucks. It’s okay. 

You have long since become aware that this kind of love is a choice. That relationships worth fighting for aren’t built on aligning schedules, rampant, red-hot desire not enforced by how often you can see someone… and regardless of the fact, you, of all people, know just how deeply Deku loves. It’s fundamental in your understanding of him, and part of your acknowledgement that he is the strongest hero: having the ability able to shoulder what other people cannot. 

So it makes things worth it, when he comes home and reminds you of how little has changed despite his absence. That the him-sized hole in your being is even greater inside his. But he doesn’t relent or give up, doesn’t submit to the burden of missing you, because just as he should, just like he wants to, he always comes home. 

In his absence though, as a reminder, as proof, you find them sometimes. Notes. Squares of little, yellow paper marked with that familiar chicken scratch writing and scrawl. On them, proclamations of love in the form of tightly spaced letters and ink that blurs the post-it; haphazard, quick, and careless looking… almost as though someone didn’t want to but decided so anyway. Like time said ‘no,’ and yet he did not care. 

The first one is left on your kitchen table one morning, after you wake up and find yourself alone. You scratch your head when you read it, blink and let out a wry-sounding breath. It says, “Sorry I had to leave. x.” 

It’s typical of him. Familiar, almost, a reminder of what the beginning of your relationship was like, when kisses really were scarce, and mornings together even farther apart. You save the note anyway, put it in your nightstand and then swallow the bitterness down with your morning coffee. 

It should make you happy he even thinks of you, and it does, as just as soon, the second note arrives stuck to the laptop on your desk. It’s a story in four sentences, even if you hadn’t known that Deku had even been home. 

“Hi,” it says. Your name is scribbled. “I saw the ocean today and thought of you. Guess I’m always thinking of you. Let’s do something soon. Izuku.”

There is a smiley face next to his signature. A wobbly-looking heart, too, unsure in its rather naked stance: an apology, though you’ve never really needed on. In his hesitance, you have both seen Deku and you’ve missed him, woken up with him and gone to bed... so you tape the note to your calendar as a reminder that he’s trying, and of the fact that he wants to. 

It’s a handful of weeks later that you find the third note with a drawing.

In your bag, it’s tucked way down between a book and your water bottle. On it, a messy stick figure, with three fingers on each hand, lopsided hair, and freckles stands next to what you suppose is meant to be the beach. Above it, it says, “I love you. I miss you,” and below it, “See you soon!”

It makes you roll your eyes, smile, and laugh just a little bit... and you tuck it back into the pages of your book to keep it safe. He texts you, too, not too long after... and says he’ll be home for dinner. 

Deku can’t always be with you. You know this. He does, too. But that doesn’t mean he can’t remind you, in every way he knows how, that he is just as close as he is far. 

[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.

[hxt1b]

Know Your Type

Jaehyun x Reader 

Requested Prompt 21 "you want me to go out with him" 

Genre: Angst, College AU

Warning: Swearing, Smut 

WC: 2.3k

Masterlist 

Prompt List, for any requests you guys may have. I'm currently taking them again!

A/N: I apologize for the grammatical issues I did read it over but some things may have still slipped through. 

I hope you guys like this, please let me know what you think! Feedback is appreciated. 

"I know what type of guys you like." Jaehyun boasted. You scoffed at him, he most definitely did not. 

"Fine then point at a guy you want me to go out with. Since you know my type so well. If you guess right I'll ask him out." You challenged. It wasn't that Jaehyun didn't know you. He did, he just didn't know who you liked because you couldn't look at him and tell him it was, in fact, him. 

Too many thoughts would go through your head every time you thought about telling him. The fact that he could reject you and then you'd lose a friend was terrifying to you. So you stayed quiet. 

"Him," Jaehyun said and pointed at a boy across the room, he was tucked into the corner an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips as he tapped away at his phone. 

You knew him, Lucas was a great guy. A great guy with a girlfriend. 

"You want me to go out with him?"  You couldn't help but laugh, your shoulder bumped into his as you did. 

"He has a girlfriend." You said, "Plus he's not the guy I like." Jaehyun froze next to you. 

"You like someone?" 

Suddenly the couch you were sitting on wasn't big enough for the two of you. You didn't realize you'd said that, he'd just been trying to demonstrate your type. 

"No." 

"But you said you did." 

You couldn't reply to that. So you just stared at him as his face lit up. 

"Tell me who." He said his face getting closer to yours. 

"No." You deadpanned, and he frowned. 

"I bet you I can get you to tell if you have enough shots." You narrowed your eyes at his challenge again. Before you let him know that it was game on. 

This was how you and Jaehyun worked. Playful bets placed practically all the time, every little aspect of life was a game, and honestly, you liked it that way. You liked the way he laughed when he won, the dimply smiles that would adorn his face for the rest of the day. You liked the way he pouted when he lost, the complaining that would ensue was also something you wouldn't change. You liked the way he answered your phone and if he missed the call he called back within seconds. You liked that he called you randomly sometimes, a random 'I bet…' followed by something insane would leave his mouth and you'd always play into it. You liked him, everything about him and you loved your friendship. It was hard but you wouldn't ever tell him you liked him. Because you couldn't give him up. 

Jaehyun and you sat in a random room in the house, a huge bottle of vodka in-between you. The bottle was once full, you'd and Jaehyun had drank a considerable amount. 

"So Y/N, who do you like?" Jaehyun asked his words slightly slurred, the effects of the alcohol in full force. You stared at him, taking in the lift of his mouth as he smirked at you, the way his left dimple appeared as he did so. 

You unconsciously were leaning into him. 

"And if I tell you what do I get?" You asked your hand digging into the carpet in between you as your weight settled onto it. 

Jaehyun lowered his head to yours so that his nose was almost brushing yours. 

"You get to know that your best friend in the whole wide world will wingman you." 

"And what if that meant you'd be wing manning me for yourself?" You asked, your voice soft as the words left you. 

Jaehyun looked at you slowly registering the words that left you. Anxiety rolled in your stomach as you watched him blink at you. 

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

You knew you shouldn't have told him. 

Jaehyun cleared his throat as leaned away from him. 

"You like me?" He asked, you turned your head away from him. Suddenly all the alcohol in your system was gone. You slowly nodded, not being able to look back at him. 

He cleared his throat again, the silence was drowning you as the discomfort in the room grew. Eventually, Jaehyun pulled his phone out of his pocket. Tapping at his screen a few times as he got up. 

"So I- I just got a text from Jungwoo he needs me." You closed your eyes. 

Fuck vodka. 

"I'll see you tomorrow." 

But you didn't.

You didn't see him for a week. The first day you left him alone, the second day you thought maybe something had happened considering Jungwoo had called him that night. So you texted him, he didn't reply. You texted him again only to be left on read. The third day you tried calling him, that failed as well. You very quickly realized he was ignoring you. 

He came into your shared class on Wednesday followed by Jungwoo, and they sat with you. But Jungwoo sat in the middle and Jaehyun left halfway through the class. You didn't try after that, you didn't know how. 

Your head hurt that day because you couldn't help but cry. You knew you were right not to tell him, you knew you were right about the fact that the moment you told him you'd lose him. 

The opening of your apartment door drew you from your thoughts. Doyoung walked in holding a bag of takeout in his hand. 

"You look like shit." He said as his eyes swept over you. You laughed at his words. 

"Thanks." 

Doyoung set the takeout on the coffee table before heading into your kitchen to grab cutlery. 

"He ignored me in class on Wednesday." You said as you looked down at your hands. Your eyes stinging again. 

"You'd think that he would know how to act like an adult. If he doesn't like you back he doesn't have to cut you off." 

You nodded, but he had. Because that was how Jaehyun was. 

"Every girl I become friends with always ruins it by falling in love with me," Jaehyun grumbled as he sat across from you. 

"Humble." You muttered. 

"I'm not joking like I don't mean it as a prick. I just mean I want someone I can be friends with, without them wanting to suck my dick." You looked at him your eyebrows raising. 

Eventually, you rolled your eyes, a chuckle leaving you. "You want a girl to not want you for sex. How ironic."  

"Listen I sleep with girls," He started. 

"A lot go girls," You interjected  

"But I don't pretend to be their friend." He finished. 

"Such a saint you are Jaehyun." 

You weren't close back then, you grew close though over the year since then. To the point that you were inseparable. Until now. 

"Whatever forget him, let's drown in food," Doyoung said, he didn't make it to the couch before the apartment door was opening again. 

Only two people besides you had a key, one of them was already in the apartment. 

You stared at Jaehyun as he looked at Doyoung. 

"Oh, you're here." He said. 

"Yes, I'm here," Doyoung replied. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have just shown up I guess." He said and retreated out of the apartment. You stared at Doyoung, who let out a loud sigh. 

"Okay fine, go after him. I'm going to start eating though." You nodded as you shot out of your spot on the couch. 

Slipping into a pair of flip flips you charged out the door. The elevator closed as you rounded the corner. So you settled for the stairs. 

You looked crazy, you knew you did. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt with stains on it, you weren't wearing any pants you just had on your underwear. Your eyes were swollen from the crying earlier, and your hair was up in a messy bun. Well, half of it was. 

You stopped to breathe as you hit the main floor, your throat hurting from your lack of air. Somewhere in your brain, you were looking at yourself wondering what the fuck you were doing. But at the forefront of your mind was Jaehyun. 

You pushed out the doors seeing him walking to his car. 

"Hey!" You called running down the few steps as he stopped right beside his car. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You asked loudly, as you charged towards him. 

"I-" You cut him off before he could even truly start. 

"No actually, fuck you. You ignored me for a week. Then you chose to show up without a text, let alone a call. So what I told you I liked you and that's it? You forced me to tell you!"  

You were frantic, and angry and needed to yell at him because if you weren't yelling you would cry. You didn't even care if the people sitting in their apartments heard the commotion and looked out. 

Jaehyun stood silently in front of you fiddling with his keys. 

"Am I really that awful, that if I did like you the only option you'd have is; run away?" You asked, finally letting your voice quiet down as your confidence faded. Your brain being hit with the fact that he may have come to grab his things. The few things he'd left around your apartment. Like his hoodie, his many pairs of socks, the t-shirt you were in right now. 

"No," He finally answered. His eyes finally coming up to your face. 

"Then why have you been ignoring me?" You asked, your eyes stinging again as you tried not to cry. 

Jaehyun took a step towards you, grabbing your arm and pulling you into him. You let him. 

"I had to think. I needed to think about what you said." He said, his head resting on top of yours. You thought about pushing him away. You thought about storming back into your apartment and leaving him here, but you wanted to be in his arms you couldn't push away. So instead you grabbed his t-shirt tightly and pulled him closer to you. 

"I like you too, Y/N." He spoke softly, "I was just shocked when you said it to me at the party. I didn't know how to react so I ran. I'm so sorry for ignoring you. I know I'm a dick. I know I'll have to make it up to you and I will." 

"You were shocked so you decided that not talking to me was the way to go?" You asked, your voice muffled into his chest. 

"I never said I was smart." He said making you softly giggle. 

"You like me?" You asked turning your head up and looking at him. He nodded down at you. 

"Yes." 

Maybe you were too quick to give in, maybe you weren't. All you knew was that a week's worth of trouble boiled down to a few words and you weren't willing to draw it out any longer. You could talk about it more later if you wanted to right now you just wanted him to hold you. You hadn't seen him for a week and you hated it. 

He pressed his lips to yours gently, cautiously. But you quickly deepened the kiss, letting your tongue move across his bottom lip before letting him push his tongue against yours. 

You moaned softly against him, your arms snaking around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. Jaehyun hit the side of the car as you two continued to kiss, his hands moving to your ass and pulling you flush against him. You could feel him hardening between you both. Your hips moving on their own grinding against him. 

His lips left your mouth leaving hot kisses down the side of your jaw. 

"It's cold." You whined as the cold air hit the trail of saliva he was leaving in his wake. Pulling his face away from you he unlocked his car. 

"Doy-" 

"He can wait." He said as he pulled open the back door and ushered you in. He scrambled in after you pulling you onto his lap as he did so. 

"Fuck your so hot." He said. You giggled down at him. 

"I'm in a stained t-shirt." You said as Jaehyun's hands crawled underneath it finding your boobs. You moaned when his cold fingers pinched at your nipples. 

Your hands went to his crotch, palming him through his sweats drawing soft grunts from him. You looked up at his face as he moved his hands to your face bringing your mouth back down to his. 

You pulled his erection out of his sweats bringing him to your clothed core and rubbing the head of his cock against yourself. Jaehyun hissed at your actions, his hand moving to the nape of your neck. 

Jaehyun's other hand moved towards your core, pushing your underwear aside so that he could feel you on his cock. He bucked his hips up towards you. You moaned against him as he began to move between your folds coating his cock in your slick. 

The tip of his dick hitting your clit with every move he made. Your mouth moved away from his, panting you looked down at where he was moving against you. 

"Fuck." You muttered. Your head spinning with each of his movements. 

A loud knocking on his car window scared you, your hands pulling Jaehyun to you as you both look out the car window. 

Doyoung was staring down at you both. 

"I'm going home." He said loud enough for you both to hear. "You two can move upstairs." 

You laughed down at Jaehyun as Doyoung walked away. 

"Were you going to leave after you fucked me?" You asked as you moved off him. Your brain going back to thinking in overdrive. Jaehyun grabbed your wrist pulling your hand to him and forcing you to look at him. His cock tucked away now. 

"I'm sorry I ignored you. I do not plan on doing it again. I swear." You nodded at him and got out of the car, waiting for him to follow you. 

"So you know what type of guys I like huh?" You asked as he used his key to get into your building. 

"Yeah babe, you like douche bags." He said and smiled down at you, dimples and all. You bit the corner of your lip to try to not laugh. Yet you laughed anyway.