#V. Every Little Lie Gives Me Butterflies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sombreboy · 4 years ago

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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."

#fic: expensive doll #Mused Obsession #jikook smut #jimin smut #jungkook smut #bts mxm smut #bts mxm #bts smut #sub jimin #dom jungkook

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wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts · 2 years ago

Text

V. The Change and Desire

A/N: Here we go. Chapter five of Where Butterflies Never Die. I am so sorry for the wait. I have been having a hard time with inspiration recently, but I have been listening to music and then boom! While I was at work, I had an idea.

I realize that Royce’s temper is heavily hinted upon in his ghost file, so it was obviously a dominant trait of his personality. Which got me to thinking. What about Emily? Someone who is genuinely sweet and shy. With a sister like Emilia, she must be repressing some deeply rooted anger.

And I am not going to lie, I kind of want to give Emily a villain era.

RATED E for everyone. There is gooey sweetness.

Emily, Emily, Emily Has the murmuring sound of May All silver bells, coral shells, carousels And the laughter of children at play

Say Emily, Emily, Emily And we fade to a marvelous view Two lovers alone and out of sight Seeing images in the firelight As my eyes visualize a family They see Emily, Emily

Emily Frank Sinatra

April 10th, 1956 Pauly’s Diner

Emily grinned when she felt tiny arms hug her waist and cast her eyes down to see Elizabeth Clayton’s sapphire orbs gleaming up at her. Despite Emily’s own 5’1” stature, she easily bent down and scooped the soon to be six-year-old girl off the floor and into her arms, pressing a sweet kiss to her icy blonde curls.

“Bonjour ma petit.”

“Bonjour Emily.”

The bell on the door of the diner gave its telltale chime and both girls looked up to see Royce step through the door, his eyes locking on them before he strolled over. Even if it was only a second, Emily did not miss the way Royce’s eyes had swept from her head and down to her toes, lingering on certain aspects of her figure before locking back on hers.

Pleasant heat spread through her being and the chimes along the patio outside of the diner started tinkling rapidly, filling the air with their song as the April breeze picked up outside. Her ability to absorb sound waves and convert them to energy would be a lot easier to manage if it wasn’t tied to every tiny shift in her mood. Or if she knew its limitations.

Focus Emily.

The friendly voice of her Familiar filled her ears and she shook her head lightly.

She took a deep breath and focused on calming down her racing heart. As soon as her emotions settled, the wind died down and no one seemed to have noticed anything had happened to begin with.

Very good. You’re getting better at controlling it.

I’m sixteen. I went through the change. I shouldn’t have to learn to control it at all.

You heard your mother. Even when she gained full access to Witchcraft at sixteen, she still struggled to control the one ability the Goddess specifically granted to her.

Royce doesn’t have these problems with his.

Royce is a boy, Emily. And on top of that, he is only a half-witch. One of the stronger half-witches I’ve seen, I’ll give him that, but he still doesn’t hold a candle to a full blooded one like you, your mother, your sister, and your father.

“Pan is talking to you, isn’t he?” Emily blinked and looked at Elizabeth, still perched in her arms. “I get that far off look in my eyes when Hatter and I talk to each other.”

She nuzzled her nose against Lizzie’s.

“What did you and your brother do today?”

“We played hide and seek!” she leaned closer, as if telling a secret, even though Royce could clearly hear her, anyway. “He’s not very good at it.”

“Hey!” Royce gripped his little sister gently and pulled her from Emily’s arms, tickling her sides. “That’s not very nice.”

Emily leaned her hip back against the counter, watching the interaction between her boyfriend and his little sister. From the moment Elizabeth was born, Royce was smitten. He loved being an older brother and doted on her constantly, getting her a new teddy bear or doll and taking her out for ice cream whenever she wanted now that he had a car.

“She’s right, you know,” Royce looked up at his girlfriend and cocked an eyebrow in question. “You are terrible at hide and seek.”

Royce stuck his tongue out at her.

Elizabeth hugged Hatter to her chest and stared triumphantly up at her older brother.

“See! I told you Emily would agree with me!” she then turned back to Emily. “I like your eyes by the way, Emily. The old one’s were pretty, and I know you probably miss them, but mama says it isn’t uncommon for a Witch’s eyes to change color when they fully come into their power.”

Emily sighed but smiled none the less. It was true. She did miss her old moss green eyes. But Hecate had decided that when Emily came into her power fully that her eyes would be purple and that was the end of it. You did not argue with the Goddess. It never ended well.

Luckily, Royce got to keep his beautiful icy blues.

“Elizabeth convinced me to take her out for ice cream.”

Emily chuckled.

“By that, you mean she asked, and you folded like a paper airplane.”

He held up his hands. “Guilty.”

She shook her head and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before shooing him off to a table, throwing a wink at Elizabeth as she followed her brother, clutching his hand tightly.

“You know,” Becky materialized next to her at the counter, leaning on it. “If I was a stranger watching you two and Elizabeth, I’d think you were parents.”

She nudged Emily in the side.

“But luckily for you two, you look your age,” After a moment, Becky got a serious expression and reached out, tucking a piece of Emily’s black hair behind her ear. “How are you, bug? I hear the transformation to full Witch capability can be a little jarring.”

Emily looked at her friend.

“I feel different,” she chewed lightly on her thumb nail. “A constant thrum of energy is surging through my veins. Before the change, it was there but it wasn’t as noticeable. But this new ability? My ability? It’s a hair trigger. The slightest switch in my temperament and sound automatically converts to energy on its own accord. Just seeing Royce eyeing me made me set off the wind.”

She sighed.

“And then there’s the physical changes,” she lowered her voice. “My eyes.”

“Your hair.”

Emily looked at Becky in confusion.

“There’s more wave than curl,” she pulled a few strands up to study them. “And there is definitely more blue to it now than there was before.”

Emily chewed on her lip.

“I don’t feel like me anymore.”

Becky chuckled.

“The fact that you said that proves you are still you, Emmy,” she gripped her chin. “Stop overthinking everything and just enjoy the changes. There’s no going back now.”

Emily watched as her best friend flounced off and after a moment, she went over to a table that was flagging her down.

March Mansion 10 :00 Pm

Emily sat upon the medium-high wall of the porte-cochere. She felt like she was suffocating inside the house. Everyone was constantly pestering her about how she was feeling. How she was handling the change. She felt like she had answered the same question, phrased a thousand ways, at least seven hundred times. She just wanted her extended family to go back to England and France, respectively.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she looked up at her father.

Nicholas March was an imposing man with curled dirty blonde hair and intense dark blue-green eyes that contrasted heavily with his pale skin. He was well built with a delicate yet masculine face. He could be harsh and unforgiving to humans and to his fellow witches. But to his wife and daughters, he was soft as a marshmallow.

“I remember my sixteenth, you know,” he nudged her nose lightly with his index finger before gesturing forward with a “I can remember it like it was yesterday” expression. “Your great nan decided to bake a blueberry-chocolate cake, completely forgetting that I am deathly allergic to blueberries, mind you.”

Emily hid a chuckle as he paused.

“I spent the change in the A&E listening to my mum yell at her mum about blueberry cake,” he shook his head. “Completely overlooking the way the Doctors were eyeing me when my hair and eyes changed color.”

“Like magic.”

“Exactly, my darling,” he laughed. “I use to be a brunette with dark chocolate eyes.” He scrunched his nose. “This was quite a bit bigger, too. Can’t say I miss that.”

After a moment, Nicholas quieted down and his expression became more sympathetic as he gazed into nothing, remembering how lost he felt during his change.

“I know it’s overwhelming, little dove,” he rubbed her shoulder as he spoke. “You don’t look the same and you have more power than you know what to do with but that doesn’t alter who you are as a person.”

After a moment, he stood up.

“You have company.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading inside.

She did not have to look up to know who took a seat beside her. The steady thrum of Royce’s heart gave him away when he was at the end of the driveway. She leaned her head into his chest when he pulled her close.

“He’s right, you know.”

Royce nuzzled the top of her head with his nose, subtly inhaling the aroma that was uniquely Emily’s. After his change, his sense of smell had become much sharper, and he found that he could now identify the individual notes that made up Emily’s scent.

Starflower. Sandalwood. Sugared Tangelo. White Agarwood. Amber.

“Do I still smell the same?”

He chuckled against the crown of her head and nodded.

“Your eyes and hair may have changed but you’re still my Emily,” he tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you put up with me.”

“Stop.”

“I mean it, I’m egotistical, and bad tempered,” he could tell by the way her lips curved that he was reaching his intended goal. “I have gotten into six fights this week,” he held up a finger. “And it is not even Wednesday, Emily. We are two days in. Two!”

She burst into laughter, but he wasn’t done.

“I’m a nightmare, kitten, honestly-”

He was cut off by her lips. An odd sound he did not quite recognize escaped him when the tip of her tongue pressed against his bottom lip. He surrendered to it, tangling his fingers in her inky tresses as the pink organ stroked against his own.

“You may be a nightmare Royce Clayton but you’re mine,” a pleasant tremor ran up his spine as she tugged lightly on his lip with her teeth. Enough to sting but not truly hurt. “And I’d like to keep you.”

His icy blue eyes turned molten in the light of the moon as dark red energy pulsed under his skin at the possessiveness in her tone. Women could be worse than men in that department, it seemed. But his sweet Emily could claim dominion over his very soul if she wished it and he would submit.

“I’m all yours, doll.”

He took her lips in a hungry kiss.

A/N: I wrenched this chapter out of the bowels of my soul. And I think I’m living for the chaotic energy these two generate.

Reviews are appreciated as they feed the muse.

#thir13en ghosts #thir13en ghosts fanfiction #13 ghosts fanfiction #13 ghosts #royce clayton and emily march #royce clayton #1950's #where butterflies never die

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weasleyswizardpleases · 4 years ago

Text

Low Profile (reader x fred and george)

Summary: You and your best friends find yourself entangled in a secret polyamorous love affair, right under their family’s noses.

Warnings/Notes: Cw language, kissing (but no sex of any kind), family not accepting poly/queer relationship, bruising. This is for the wonderful and talented @lunalovecroft’s 2.7k trope-inspired writing challenge! It’s also part of my loose series of fics that take place over the summer when y/n stays at the Weasleys’ house. No twincest- v shaped poly relationship. Here’s my masterlist if you want more! Enjoy!

Ever since you and Fred hooked up the first night of the summer, you’ve been joined at the hip even more than usual, and since George is always with Fred and usually with you, he had to be told once it was clear that you and Fred were gonna be more than a one night stand. You were a bit sad, knowing that it’d probably make him feel left out, in a way. You noticed that George looked a bit miffed when the two of you told him you were dating, in the loosest sense of the word.

“What’s the matter, you jealous Georgie?” you tease, putting your hand on his knee flamboyantly. He blushes and you and Fred exchange a look.

“Oh my god, you actually are, aren’t you?” Fred asks, half-mocking. For once, George seems to be at a loss for words. He looks quite uncertain and a bit sad. You figure that you may as well break the tension and speak honestly; it’s more important to you to be frank and maintain your friendship than anything else. You clear your throat.

“George, honestly, if you’d been there instead of Fred that night, I’d probably have hooked up with you, too. We’ll all still be friends. That’s why we’re telling you, so we’re not keeping secrets,” you say, trying to goad him into speaking. He shakes his discomfort off and begins.

“Oh, I knew this would happen! We used to just be friends before the two of you started making eyes at each other all the time. Now I’ll barely be able to talk to the two of you- my two best friends, mind you- without all this lovey dovey shit. What an absolute nightmare!”

You open your mouth to speak, but George barrels on, looking at Fred this time.

“And you, some brother you are. You know how I feel about Y/N, I thought we had an agreement to keep it platonic all around?”

“It’s not my fault they’re interested in me!”

“George, I said I would have kissed you that night too! Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to say to both of you. I’ve got feelings for you, both of you.”

They stop bickering and turn to look at you, turning the idea over in their minds.

“What are you saying?” asks Fred, looking a bit hurt.

“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “that I’ve never been better friends with one of you than the other. We do everything together. I don’t want that to change. Besides, you two are identical. Did you think your birthmark was that big of a selling point, Freddie? Of course I think you’re both good-looking, look in the mirror for goodness’ sake!”

They blink at you, then turn away to confer with one another in whispers. You tap your foot impatiently, but when they turn around, they’re beaming.

“So what you’re saying is you’d be fine with us sharing you?” George asks.

“More than fine. I’d be absolutely chuffed,” you say, returning their smiles.

“It’s settled, then,” Fred says, and plants a kiss on the top of your head. You look up at George permissively, and he puts his arm around you and gives you a squeeze.

“One thing, though. Mum and Dad can’t know. Mum especially. She’s not the most open-minded when it comes to this stuff. Especially with us. At least, I doubt she is,” Fred says.

“Yeah, funnily enough it never occurred to me to ask what she’d do if my twin brother and I started a poly fling with our best friend who also lives with us and sleeps in our bedroom, but if I had to guess, I don’t think she’d approve,” George adds, smirking.

“That’s ok. We have a pretty good track record when it comes to keeping secrets,” you say, a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

That evening, you’re helping Molly fold linens when she steps away for a moment to take the kettle off. You feel four hands slip around you from behind and soon you’re pulled into a kiss, Fred on your left, kissing you hard on the neck and collarbone, and George kissing your lips, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You kiss them passionately but push them away after a second, regaining your composure.

“Not here!” you hiss, grinning. They exchange a cheeky glance and kiss you on each cheek before scurrying back to their room, giggling. You shake your head and turn back to folding sheets, just as Mrs. Weasley returns.

“My, my dear, that’s quite a bruise you’ve got there, what happened?” Mrs. Weasley clucks, gesturing to your collarbone where you’re surprised to see a dark, newly formed hickey.

“Oh, pickup quidditch match. I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” you say, the rush of the small lie filling you with butterflies.

“Well now, we are wizards after all. We can’t have you running about looking as if you’ve been sleeping under the whomping willow,” she says cheerfully. She extracts her wand and uses a quick healing spell on the spot, which fades quickly. You wonder if she really doesn’t recognize the bruise as a hickey, but you shrug. The twins have certainly gotten away with worse under this roof.

That night, you and the twins are in the kitchen having a midnight snack. The rest of the house is quiet. You’re sitting on the countertop, helping yourself to a biscuit, and George is leaning on the counter beside you. You feed him a little bite and he licks the crumbs from your fingers playfully. Fred is rummaging through the fridge across the room, and George peers into the fridge nosily. Something piques his interest, and he heads over, whispering to his brother indistinctly. You catch them giggling, and can hear snatches of their conversation. They appear to be working on something as they chat eagerly.

“Take the…”

“... and the… yes! Use a…”

“... that’s just bad…”

“...dare you…”

You hear the familiar sound of compressed air decompressing, and Fred whirls around with a pie tin full of whipped cream in his hand, grinning devilishly.

“No!” you whisper-scream, nearly falling off the countertop, but you’re not fast enough. Fred flops the tin into your face with a splat, and George laughs so hard he winds up on the ground kicking. You lick the cream from your lips, hungry for revenge.

You know Fred is secretly quite vain about his hair, and you waste no time sliding off the countertop and wrapping him up in a hug from behind. He suspects your ulterior motives immediately, but it’s too late for him to escape.

“Oh darling, give me a hug my sweet,” you say, making exaggerated kissy noises while burying your pie covered face in his nice clean hair. He flails about, and you tickle his ribs defensively, causing him to buckle. You fall to the ground with him, giggling and shoving at one another. Just as George joins in, trying to drag you off of his brother, kissing you all over as he tugs on your legs, you hear a floorboard creak.

Ginny, whose room is closest to the kitchen, stands at the foot of the stairs, gaping at you. You’re sure she saw the kissing, and, well, the whole situation does look a bit… familiar. You whack George on the head and nod in Ginny’s direction.

“Oh, hello Ginny,” Fred says, disentangling himself from his situation beneath you.

“Hello, big brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” George says, surprise straining his voice.

“Hello, other brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” you say uncertainly, standing up and wiping your face off with a tea towel.

“Hello, Y/N,” she says. “Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” she says, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Everyone speaks in hushed tones once again, having remembered that it is indeed the middle of the night. She nods curtly and scampers back upstairs, smiling cheekily.

“Did she see?” George whispers.

“Oh, she saw,” you assure him.

“But she wouldn’t say anything, right?” Fred asks.

“Surely not,” his brother replies nervously.

“But if she does…”

“We’re toast. No way mum believes us over her.”

“You guys are being too paranoid. Ginny isn’t a snitch like Ron and Percy, she wouldn’t blab on us for a bit of… roughhousing,” you say hopefully. The twins agree, and you help each other get cleaned up, George dabbing your face clean with a wet towel, giving you gentle kisses in between.

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. As far as you know, Ginny doesn’t say anything about what she saw, and life in the burrow goes on as usual. In the mornings, you and Hermione read quietly in the living room over tea. She reads the paper, you look at the comics, every once in a while stopping to remark on a thought you’ve had.

Then George wakes up. He’s quiet in the mornings, a bit slow, although not very grumpy. Then Molly gets up and usually whips up some sort of breakfast, and by the times everyone’s up you all gather round the long table and eat together. Then, if you’re lucky, you run off outside or to a neighbor's house or abscond to the attic with Fred and George, away from prying eyes and away from Molly’s commands. If you’re unlucky, Molly enlists at least one of you in some chores, usually out in the garden.

The next time the three of you come close to getting caught, you’re doing just this- de-gnoming with Fred, George, and Ron when Ron gets a headache and goes inside, complaining that it’s far too hot. In reality, the day is rather mild, although the sun is bright enough that Fred and George both have pink sunburns radiating across the bridges of their noses. You flick Fred on his sunburnt cheek and he winces.

“Ow! What’s that for?!” he asks, nearly dropping a gnome right back into the grass.

“I need your attention!”

“For what?”

“A kiss,” you reply devilishly. He obliges you and kisses you dramatically, dipping you low, holding you in his arms. “Like this, mi amore?” he asks in a silly accent.

“Lunchtime!” Molly calls from the doorway, causing Fred to drop you to the ground and George to leap in front of the two of you oddly, trying to obscure his mum’s line of sight. You brush yourself off and head for the house, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see anything.

“Fred Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly, and you all cringe. You hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Fred, did I just see you toss Y/n to the ground? That’s no way to treat a guest, especially when you’re meant to be doing housework!” You sigh deeply, relieved. “Come in, dearie, I swear, sometimes I don’t know who raised those two!” she says, putting an arm around you to guide you in the house.

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baby-dr1ver · 4 years ago

Text

woman

aaaaah part 2 of the HS1 series! v excited for y’all, it’s uuh smutty- I decided to make this smut instead of angst like the song because, i was feeling flirty!din. Like imagine when they are, ya know, the slow parts of the song- oh myyyyy goooooood. Tbh it doesn’t really make sense but, oh well?

Pairing: Din Djarin x innocent(sorta)!reader

Rating/Warnings: sex pollen!au, Din is helmetless the whole time, flirting, making out, slight fingering, p in v, dirty talk, Din being sweet, a little bit of innocent reader, slight choking, finger sucking, swear words, shitty writing.

A/N: y’all can thank @jedi-jesi because she motivated me to get this out-

Being Cara’s friend was great. You got to travel, meet new people, and even make friends. You also got to meet her friends, since you both were in the same line of work. That’s how you met Mando, or Din as he said to call him. You met him after a long, successful mission him and Cara went on.

Cara had sent you a hologram, filling you in on the latest, and you were ecstatic at the good news. She had told you that she was bringing a friend, and suddenly you were curious. You didn’t know this ‘Mando’ but, you were determined to be friends, that’s just who you were. “Okay Cara, I’ll meet y’all at the cantina!”

Before you got there, you picked some beautiful blue flowers to give to Cara, it was tradition!

When you arrived, you spotted Cara, with her broad shoulders, and what you guessed was Mando. He was dressed in his beskar armor, but without his helmet. The thought of meeting him brought butterflies to your stomach. Weird? Paying no mind, you walked right over to their table and sat down at the open seat. “Y/N you made it!” You gave her a shy smile before looking to the man across from you. “Uh, hi I’m Y/N uh Cara’s told me a lot about you.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She told you all about each mission she went on with him, and how much of a softie he secretly is.

“ hi, I’m Din, nice to meet you” He held his hand out for you to shake. Your hand felt sweaty as you reached for his. You don’t know why you were suddenly nervous. You felt sparks when your hands touched, gross. Since when were you this cheesy? “Pretty flowers,” he commented. “Oh! Thank you! They’re for Cara!” You exclaimed and handed them over. Cara took them and passed some over to Din, who took a big sniff. As he did, his body stiffened as if he was electrocuted.

Time went on and you and Din somehow sat a little bit closer. He would throw a suggestive glance your way, that implied much more. Din didn’t take you as the type of guy to have the cocky, confident attitude he was giving off, but you were liking it. “Y/N, wanna help me get some more drinks?” Din asked. You gave him a curt, shy nod and stood with him. Walking with Din to the bar, he stood close, and his hands would brush yours. That hand would run up your arm to your lower back, as if to guide you. If you could turn any darker shade of red, you would. His simple touch seemed to heat your whole body, and send tingles down your spine. You arrived at the bar and Din ordered three more spotchka’s before he turned to you.

“So, how do you know Cara?” It caught you off guard. “Oh uh, we’ve known each other since we were little, and just about 4 cycles ago we reunited.” You say with a smile, reminiscing on the past. You were sad when she left to be a Rebel shock trooper, you knew you wouldn’t see her for a while, the person you grew up with, who you’d come to love as a sister. “How about you?”

He lowered his head and chuckled, “I met her on Sorgan, uh we had gotten into a fight” He laughed. That went on for a while, the casual back and forth, as if you’d known each other forever. He’d share stories about missions, and the kid, and you, would tell embarrassing ones about Cara. You’d laugh, blush, and got lost in his eyes. You hung onto every word he spoke. The way his lips moved, the pink, plumpness of them.The way he moved his hands about, had you in a trance. You wonder how they would feel wrapped around your- You saw a hand wave in front of your face, the very hand you were fantasizing about.

“Hey! You okay? You zoned out for a minute.” You shook your head, and hoped he couldn’t sense your growing…..

“Yeah, sorry, just uh lost in thought I guess.” Din didn’t press further, just kept the conversation going. “So, any special?” You knew what he was insinuating. “Ah no, there’s no one. There hasn’t been for awhile.” You locked eyes with Din. The dark brown eyes, staring into your soul made you dizzy, and hot. He made your skin crawl with need. “I think I’m gonna get some air.” You said before you walked out into the cool breeze of the night. You couldn’t figure out what was happening to you.

Your skin felt like it was on fire. Your head swimming with need. Cunt dripping with arousal. “What is happening?” You said out loud. You didn’t realize that Din had followed you out. Watching your every move. The way you rubbed your arms, eyes, temple, stomach. Almost clutching it as if you were in pain. Little did you know, he was feeling the same. The same titillation, lust, buzzing, feeling. It was like you both had caught a- oh maker, the flower. It must have been a pollen of some sort.

“Ad’ika?” He asked softly as he approached you. His cheeks were red, at the thought of what he wanted to do to you. His confident act was long gone as he approached your trembling body. “Din-hurts-please” You say in broken fragments. Your insides feel like they were being liquified. Your body spoke before your mind did, and reached out for Din. He walked until he was inches from your body. “Y/N do you- do you feel it too?” At his question you frantically shook your head, yes. “Yeah Din, I feel it-please” He pulled his ungloved hand to your cheek and gently cupped your face. You leaned into his embrace, soothing the ache you felt for a second. “Oh cy’rika, you’re so hot huh? Need me to help you?” He wasn’t gonna tell her about the pollen, rather keep her sweet and innocent, thinking it was her body's natural reaction. “Please” You let out one last time, giving him permission. He pulled your face in, not giving you a kiss, no, just nose to nose, staring into your eyes. Your breathing picks up at the closeness of your bodys. You needed him, you needed him to soothe the ache, the fire, that was happening within you. He finally pushed his lips to yours. You let out a moan mixed with a sigh at the contact. Something inside you preened that he was finally touching you. You and Din made out sloppily before he pulled away and made his descent down your neck. “Mmhm you smell so good ik'aad. Just a needy little thing huh?” You only moaned a reply. He was kissing, licking, biting on your neck, creating bright red marks that would surely be there tomorrow.

It didn’t hit you that you were out in the open, granted it was dark and no one would see you in the alley way, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Din- oh maker- please I need more” You could feel his smirk against your neck. He pulled away, and started to trail his hands from your hips to under your shirt, trying to remove it. You lifted your arms up, to assist him, and he looked at you with awe, and suddenly was in a rush. “gota'la gar're mesh'la” He said before diving into your chest. Din bit and licked at your breast. He would grab at one nipple with his mouth while he had a hand on the other. He would pull away and watch a string of saliva come from your nipple, with pride. He would listen to the pornographic moans, and feel his ego grow. “Oh maker- Din feels so good!”

“Yeah? Are you ready for more mesh'la?” You nodded. He went to your pants, and shoved his hands in to feel your soaking wet center. He groaned as he felt you. You mewled as Din started to circle your clit with his middle finger, before he would trail down to your opening. “Gotta get you ready huh? Gotta make sure you're nice and wet for me.” Maker, the way he talked. The sweet vibrato of his voice, and the rough pads of his fingers were doing things to you. The fasterhis finger went in and out, the more his palm would rub against your clit, bringing you a little but closer to the edge. “Oh kar'taylir darasuum you like that huh?” “Hmm ye-yeah feels so fucking-” You were cut off by Din crooking his fingers just right, hitting a spot that made your back arch in pleasure. “Din I think I’m gonna- I think I might-” He stops. You stutter out in protest, upset that you were so close, and he just stopped. “Sshh ad’ika, I need to be inside you when you come.” Maker, you could melt into a fucking puddle. You didn’t care that people could walk by and see you getting your brains fucked out but the hottest man on the planet. You never wanted him to stop. Din unzipped his pants, just enough that he could pull his cock out. Gods, he was big, you didn’t know how he was going to fit. He pulled your pants all the way down before he turned you to face the wall, pulling your hips out. “You ready cy’rika?” You turned your head to him and nodded. “Are you sure it’ll fit?” You didn’t have time to think before he entered you with one swift thrust. You both let out a syncronizsed moan. Guess it does. The fire, the ache, the itch you felt, started to melt, just a little. He didn’t give you time to adjust, he started to hammer in you with no care in the world. “Maker, you're so tight. Feels so warm, and inviting.” The more he talked the wetter you got. “This what you need ad’ika, needed someone to fill you to the brim huh” Oh my- your pussy clenched, hard. Din felt it and about came on the spot. If you kept squeezing him like that, he wasn’t gonna last long. “Oh maker- yes Din- needed it so bad, need you to fill me- make me cum” You were panting. The way he fucked you, so sweet but so animalistic, he wanted to be gentle but, he was like a caveman. You savored the contact, you latched on to the careingness and dominance of Din. Your thoughts stopped when he pulled out, turned you around, lifted you up and filled you back up. This was more intimate, facing one another, legs warped around his beskar covered waist. You hid your face in his neck, hiding your red face. Moaning in his ear, leaving trails of spit and bites on his neck, wanting to leave marks of your own. You felt very possessive in that moment. Like you didn’t want anyone else touching him like you are. Din pulled you back by your hair, and kissed you. Like he was desperate for more contact. “Din, harder” You moaned out like you were in heat. Begging to be bread. It was filthy really, being fucked by a man you just met, in a dark alleyway. Begging him to ruin you, in a way no human has. Din pulled back to look into your eyes, when his hand came up to the base of your throat and lightly wrapped his fingers around it. My gods, this man was going to be the death of you. You gave a small nod before Din squeezed just a little tighter. “Such a good girl for me, letting me use her like this, for anyone to see…see you squeezing the life out of my cock” More moans flew out of your mouth. You were babbling at this point, to cock drunk to properly respond. “ge ogir ner kar'taylir darasuum” “Din please I need-” You tugged at the hand on your throat. He titled his head in worry, thinking he was hurting you. That thought disappeared when you brought his hand to your mouth. He rested his thumb on your lips and smirked, “Oh ad’ika, you need my fingers? Just a dumb baby huh, can’t even talk” You whined. He finally pushed his thumb in, at the exact same time he tilted his hips and hit your g-spot. You wanted to tell him you were close, how good he felt, how beautiful he looked fucking you. He beat you to it, “Look so pretty like this, drooling, spaced out and ready to come, ” You nodded, hoping he understood that you were close. Your moans got louder, as they ricoshade of the walls. Gods, the things he did to you. Your body was heating up, and started to shake. He must have sensed that you were close, you couldn’t tell if it was the way you were squeezing his dick or your loud moans. “You close?” He questioned, and you nodded. He took his wet thumb from your mouth, and pushed it onto your clit. He was rubbing harsh circles, praising you, waiting for you to cum. “Yeah gonna cum, gonna cum for me ad’ika- go ahead baby, cum for me” And you did. Your mouth opened in a scream, and you clutched at anything you could grba, at the time it was Din’s cape. “Din!” That’s all he heard, Over and over, like a mantra, the only thing you could remember. There was no time to come down before Din was thrusting again. He grunted and panted, trying to chase his orgasm. You pulled his face to yours so you were nose to nose again. “C’mon Din, want you to cum- want you to cum in me, don’t you want that Din?” He let out a broken moan, and thrust one more time before you felt a warm feeling deep within you. He dropped his head into your neck, and you played with the curly hair at the back of his neck. “You can’t say things like that and not expect me to blow my load like that '' You giggled at his exaggeration. You didn’t verbally respond, just a slight hum. No one said anything for a while. Your fever had broken, and you were no longer trembling. You’d hope that you would see him again. That you wouldn’t have to see him touch another woman. You wanted to wear his clothes, and parade his marks around. You wanted him to call you everyday, so your phone was never dry, and lonely. It didn’t matter that you just met Din, you wanted him. You wanted him to make you his, his woman. “Din?” He hummed back, still inside you. “Will I see you again?” He pulled his head away from your neck, and smiled. “Do you want to?” You nodded at him, and blushed. Di-d you- Did you want to?? He didn’t say anything, just pulled you in for a kiss. A kiss of a new beginning, under the stars of Nevarro.

#din djarinx reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin imagine #din djarin oneshot #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female oc #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fluff

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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I see that you are taking NSFW requests. Would I be able to request a Johnny/fem!V size kink smut? (i.e. V suddenly realizes that Johnny was *not* exaggerating about his 'impressive cock.' :p )

Sorry that I took so damn long to answer but here is your request, I hope you enjoy it and yeah you guys can send in asks, I just take a while sometimes or have to have the inspiration to do some of your asks so ask away!

"Are you picky or just broke? Fucking pick a joytoy V, it's annoying as fuck watching you get all jittery and nervous about a fucking joytoy of all things." Johnny moaned, letting his head repeatedly hit against the dark red brick wall, pure black glasses resting upon his nose and a sour expression that never failed to somewhat put V in a shitty mood. "Just don't want the night to be shittier than ever or just plain boring but even then don't wanna be fucking crazy with whips and shit. So yeah I'm picky." V responds, shoving her hands into her pockets as her feet move forwards, the heavy smell of musk, greasy food, and motor oil the familiar and disgusting smell that could only roam in Night City. V's lustful desires had of course gotten the best of her and here she was lurking on Jig-Jig street, bright contrasting lights, the smell of cheap latex, and the odor of sex just lingers at the end of every scent. Fake smiles. Fake happiness. And fake desire. But a true and even more real need for money. That was Jig-Jig street described for V in one sentence, licking her lips her eyes move to see joytoy of all sorts on the street, all eyeing her and grinning. "Too fucking picky ... you either want vanilla sex or you want kinky ass sex, can't have both V. Not like you'll find someone able to leave you sore in the mornin' ... wake up thinkin' of nothing but him and his cock. Hm ..." Johnny groans, his voice rumbling deeply at the end as V can feel his gaze upon her and the implications that she thought he was making, ugh. "I know you're not talking about yourself ... from what I saw that was some piss poor sex you gave Alt, no wonder she was pissed as all hell, Johnny." V teases, smirking devilishly at Johnny, his grin had disappeared into a bitter expression that almost matched her at the beginning of the night. "My partners aren't ex-cops and corpo-cunts, besides none of your partners will ever compare to me or mine, hell out of all of your partners I know I have the biggest cock out of all em'." Johnny chuckled, his laugh comes out confident and prideful, V lets a scoff part her lips and she crosses her arms and it's like her body does a full eye-roll at his words. "Oh yeah, the impressive cock that takes up so little space in those stupid leather pants of yours." V chuckles, grinning from ear to ear as she watches his grin fade away and almost like his ego was beginning to shatter. "Then why the fuck you staring at my dick so much, V? Perverted much or just horny for me?" Johnny questions, crossing his arms and glitching right beside her with a devilish smirk that she wanted to wipe off his lips, the asshole actually made her question if he had this "impressive cock". "Just simply curious if you're full of shit or if you're not lying to me," V responds, a hum at the end of her words as her eyes turn to him and she stops herself at the side of an empty closed store near an alleyway.

"Did you not see enough of my memories to know or do I have to prove you wrong, darlin' ...?" Johnny chuckles, his words are smooth and sound like a purr to V's ears as he leans right beside her, a heavy and wide grin on his lips as his glasses remain sitting on the bridge of his nose. " ... I'll do it myself ... know that you think of me more than you should, darlin' ..." V purrs and when she says his affectionate nickname she forces her voice to become deeper and winks at him with a smirk curled up onto her lips, Johnny chuckles, running the tip of his tongue around the ring of his lips. "Then why don't you do something about it, merc ...? Impress me ... show me what you feel for me, darlin' ... " Johnny purrs, his eyes burning into her own as he turns to meet her eyes, he can see the slight blush that clouds V's cheeks as she crosses her arms before standing up straight as Johnny glitches out of her view. V's eyes meet a nearby club with many people dancing, drinking, and just enjoying themselves but what V really wanted to do was get on that dance floor, wanted to give him a show. The club is decently sized, it's cozy and full of warm colors such as reds, blacks, and oranges and the overall vibe just felt warm and sensual. V grins to herself, making her way into the club as she pushes through the amount of the people drinking, making out, and getting high out of their minds. She manages to finally make it onto the dance floor and waits for a good song to blast throughout the club in which V proceeds to smirk to herself, hoping and praying that Johnny was watching her because she was gonna put on a show for him. Johnny glitches into the world and is found leaning against one of the crowed walls with arms crossed but his eyes remained glued to the sight of V, to the filthily sensual show V was putting on for him. His eyes explored her figure, where her hands moved all over her body, and not to mention she was wearing a short red silk dress that fit her like a glove, her legs were just amazing and the urge to have his head in between her thighs came almost immediately. He felt his mouth salivate and his breath stopped right in his throat, hazel brown eyes remained locked onto her and the way she swayed her hips to the music. How a warm smile remained on her warm and luscious looking lips, the way her hands explored her figure, her hands move up to her breasts as she feels and clutches at the silk that covered her body. Oh, fuck ...

Spinning her heels, she begins to sway and grind her hips in a slow motion and her hands go back to exploring her figure, her hands run up to her neck as she can imagine the metal arm against her throat, she can imagine his metal fingers against her lips. "Hot damn ... I didn't know that my sweet little merc could be a little succubus ..." Johnny purrs, a chuckle rumbles at the end of his sentence as a devilish grin curls onto his lips and he takes his glasses off, V could feel his lustful gaze upon her body. V can feel his eyes on her body and V can already feel pride bubbling up in their body, even going as far as to raise her silk dress showing more of her smooth thighs before her eyes fluttered closed. V let the music take control of her body, swaying her hips to the music and she let the beat inspire her body to move to its beat, she can feel the eyes of other men on her, ugh she groans in her mind. All V wanted was his eyes on her, other men usually just see her as another fleshlight, as something to use for their own ecstasy. Johnny knew how to share it with the women he was interested in, sex with him was always something between equals no matter who you were, that's what he saw sex as. Something to enjoy, to relish in. It's not long before V can feel a pair of familiar hands resting upon her hips, his fingers are there yet they're not almost like the feeling of cool air against your skin. The aroma and the strong scent of nicotine wafted around the air, liquor clung heavily to his form, his lips bury themselves against the skin of V's neck, he inhales in her warm, human scent. She smelt sweet enough not to cloud his senses with whatever scent clung to her smooth skin, grinning warmly into her skin he lets his hands move up to her waist as he leads her body to his waist, to his hips. "A- ..." V nearly yelps, eyes slightly jump at the surreal sensation of his hips pressed against hers, she can feel his arousal pressing against her behind. "Slowly. ... Take your time, V. Hmm ... you feel that? Don't lie." Johnny purrs right in her ear, she can feel his heavy breaths against her cool skin, licking her lips a familiar warmth plagues the pit of her stomach, and butterflies crowd her stomach with hormones and sweetness.

"I can ... woah ... that's all you? Shit ..." V gasps in a short breath but bites her tongue before those stupid words can fall from her quick tongue, she can feel him all against her body, he's thick and lengthy. She can imagine he's nearly bursting in those leather pants of his, she finds herself imagining the mere sight of him in front of her, throbbing, eager, and selfishly hers. She's never been one to be selfish over someone but she'll be damned if she doesn't allow herself to indulge herself in him, indulge herself in whatever comes next for them. She grinds her hips against his, slowly swaying them against his eager hips that follow the movements of her own, both of them are eager to see where this goes. Both of them are eager to see each other's bodies, to admire their bodies, and to indulge in physical ecstasy. "Teasing me, are you ...? Come on, V ... be selfish and be greedy. Let's be greedy and selfish for one pitiful night, V. I know you want to." Johnny purrs, rugged slurred words entice her and her greedy need for him inside of her, her greedy need to have him and him alone. Turning around and snapping her gaze onto him, her eyes are hazed with lust and greed and become dark with need, her cheeks are flushed and she's moving her arms around his waist, she needs him. He needs her. She finds herself leaning swiftly into his lips, devouring and indulging in her need for him as her entire body is on overdrive, her entire body is bursting with adrenaline and it's getting hard to control it. Groaning into her lips, the warm feeling of her lips against his is a sensation he's missed, a sensation he's craved for a long time. His hand slips behind her neck as she devours his lips, her tongue parts his lips and they dance together sloppily and erratically. Moaning against his lips, V's hand rests and lingers against his bearded cheeks as they indulge in the ecstasy of the human body. Moments later, V pulls away with brightly flushed cheeks and slow yet heavy breaths leaving her heavy lungs. Everything is pulsating in her body with need, her heart, she hates how he can turn her into a puddle of mush with his words, with such ease. And he knew it too. "Ain't gonna make it home. The bathroom is the best place right now, V ... not the best or ideal ... but I'm gonna take real good care of you. Just watch." Johnny purrs, a devilish smirk resting upon his lips and a hand resting upon his hip before he glitches out of your view with a short chuckle leaving his lips. V's teeth grind against her bottom lip as she acknowledges how soaked her panties are, how he's made her feel and it's so humiliating but so embarrassingly arousing. V rubs her lips and quickly makes her way to the nearby bathroom across the club, she licks her lips and shuts the door behind her. The bathroom is fine for a public one but still has your fair share of beer bottles, bright blinding lights, and drunk passed out people in one of the stalls. "The stall ... not willing to it in front of some drunk girl," Johnny states in V's head and teleports into the slightly ajar stall, a smirk waltzing at his lips and wide legs with a heavy bulge in between his thighs, she could clearly the outline of it.

"Perv ... not that I don't mind you staring though ... just wanna hear you admit that you were wrong about my cock, V. Or are you still too stubborn to admit that ...?" Johnny taunts her, his words smooth with an edge that clings off every one of his words, he was such an ass but there was that part of her that valued that about him. "Keep the snark to a minimum or I swear to god Johnny-" V goes on, crossing her arms before Johnny chuckles and breaks her line of words. "Or what ...? Come on, darlin' ... come see my impressive cock. Admire it." Johnny purrs, words slurred and husky yet so ... commanding as he sits there, eager for her to give him some affection, and in return, he'd prove her wrong. V lets a heavy breath leave her parted lips before she enters the somewhat crowded stall with Johnny, she licks her lips before engaging in another heated kiss with the construct. "Mmh ..." Johnny groans, relishing in the sensations of her lips against his, he rests his metal hand upon her chin and he stares up at her, devilish dark eyes eager and prideful like always. "Don't you wanna see it?" Johnny purrs, hinting that she could always refuse if things were getting weird but V wanted him and he wanted her, it's very simple and yet so complicated. "I do." V strongly states before positioning herself on her knees, her mouth salivating at the mere thought of him in her mouth, she begins to undo his belt and she swiftly unzips his pants and her eyes slightly widen. Woah. Goddamn. He goes commando of course but it's there. It's pale with a flushed rosy head, veins all pumping through his lengthy leaking cock eager for any kind of warmth, he's grinning devilishly as he watches her expression of shock and slight amazement. Licking her lips once more, she wraps her entire hand around his cock, her hands look so small compared to his thick meaty cock and she moves her hand up and down and is still in amazement at how he hid it. She strokes his thick leaking cock, her eyes remain fixated on the mere sight of his cock that she can barely wrap her fingers around. His heavy lashes flutter close as he can feel sparks flood through him, he can feel her hand travel from the base of his cock down to his untamed bush of black curly hair. A short hum exited his throat as V continues to stroke his thick and lengthy cock, she continues to do so for a few moments before running her to along the sides. A shiver travels up his spine and the mere sensation of her warm moist tongue gently pressed against the sides of his throbbing cock, her curled thick eyelashes rested upon her eyelids, he watches as they flutter with the movements of her eyes. V's eyes remain fixated on the sight before her, she slowly runs her tongue along the sides before her eyes drift upwards to meet his, her eyes are gazing into his, the pure lust that clouds them is just plain arousing and tantalizing. "Fuck ...~" Johnny gasps, the heavenly curse falling from his sinful lips as he can feel V's lips wrapped around the head of his throbbing erect cock. Oh, Christ ...

"Hah ... V ... that's it ... oh, fuck just ..." Johnny groans, a short series of deep groans rumble from his throat at the warmth that consumes him, the warmth that sparks ecstasy that shoots through him like fireworks. V can feel Johnny's hands entangle themselves in her hair, running his thick ringed fingers through her locks of hair as she continues to softly suck on the throbbing flesh in between her lips. Earning groans and grunts of approval that only encouraged her to make him fucking moan her name, moaning she wraps her hand around his length, stroking and massaging the area. "Fuck ..." Johnny curses in a shallow breath, jolts and nerves of pure ecstasy course through him, it's been so fucking long since he's had someone, it's been so long since he's had the affection of anyone. He's a bastard. Selfish one at that. He's greedy and drunk off the touches V gives him, the mere sensation of her warm moist lips wrapped around him, the familiar sight of lust-filled eyes, eyes that darkened with an urge. Clutching at her locks for a few moments, his hands move down to her face, wrapping and placing themselves on her warm cheeks, caressing and gently stroking at her skin. "Take more of it. Take it all." Johnny growls in a ragged breath, greedy for more, and V is willing to indulge in his urges if he returns the favor. "Mmh ... patience, Johnny-boy ..." V purrs, his cock out of her lips before she wraps her lips back around the head of his cock before lowering her mouth even lower on his already generously sized cock. She can fill his cock, fill her throat almost entirely but she devotes herself to making him release so she does so, slowly bobbing her head up and down as she can feel tears swell in her eyes. Gripping his thighs firmly, she firmly shuts her eyes before firmly sucking on the throbbing pulsating flesh penetrating her mouth the reactions from Johnny are worth it though. The way his expression twists in pleasure, how he gnaws at his lips at the ecstasy that overwhelms him almost entirely and leaves him vulnerable to V, the way he runs his fingers through his hair before planting his fists in her hair. He's now clutching firmly at her hair, a smirk plastered on his lips as heavy breaths leave his lips along with ragged moans that fell uncontrollably from his lips. "Oh, shit ... hah ... oh, christ ..."

Suddenly he pushes her head off of his cock, pulling her swiftly into a heated kiss for a few moments, sharing a few moments of bliss before he's pulling away from her lips, eyes unable to look anywhere but her wondrous eyes. "On top, V." Johnny says, ushering her to his lap and V listens straddling his lap with her hands resting upon his shoulders and his hands slither their way down to her hips. It's not even a minute before you can feel his thick calloused fingers caress and circle around her throbbing clit, his fingers caress the sensitive nerve earning a whimper from her. He's talented with his fingers alright, he knows how to move his fingers around her clit, rubbing his fingers in continuous circles had her shuddering on his lap, gnawing at her lips, and falling prey to the heavenly sensations that shot through her. "Ugh, Johnny ..." V shudders, she can feel him bury his face into her neck, peppering multiple kisses all over her skin and it's not a minute before he sinks his fingers into her sopping, soaking heat. Moving his fingers lightly in and out of her, he's trying to prepare her for what's to come, she can feel his fingers glide without ease in and out of her before he curls his fingers into her sweet spot. "That's it ...! Hah ... fuck, oh fuck ..." V repeatedly curses, ragged breaths soon falling from lips she grinds her hips against his fingers, aching and racing to finish. "Patience, princess," Johnny mumbles into her skin before sucking firmly on her neck, leaving V breathless and gasping as she clutches firmly onto Johnny her thighs tremble and everything is throbbing with a need. "Hypocrite ... just ... mmh ... keep going." V pants, her words are slurred and she's nearly humping Johnny's hand as his fingers move almost perfectly in her, gliding at the perfect pace and he's hitting her sweet spot just right. Why hadn't she fucked him earlier? Ugh. "Fuck ...!", his fingers repeatedly hit and curl against her sweet spot, his fingers are now sliding swiftly into her and without much care. Her body is shuddering in bliss, her thighs tremble against him, her heart's pounding like a drum in her chest, and everything at this moment is perfect for her. "Really thought I was gonna let you cum, princess?" Johnny teases, his fingers slip out of her as he turns his attention towards her and a devilish grin rests upon his lips before his fingers enter his lips and he licks her juices clean off his fingers. "Wanted to keep you ... pleased enough to wait for the real fuckin' show ... to show you what it's all about fucking Johnny Silverhand." Johnny grins devilishly, firmly smacking V's ass earning a yelp from her before he's ripping V's panties off of her body, greedy to feel her on top of his cock, eager to feel that warmth you can't get anywhere but from a human. He missed being ... alive. Being human.

"Could've said that first asshole ..." V pouts, her eyes roll away from his as she wraps her arms around his neck, she can feel him rub himself in between her soaked slit, sucking in a breath he pushes V's hips down onto his large throbbing cock. "Oh, fuck ..." The words fall from your lips sinfully well, fullness and almost a complete sensation washes over her, her cheeks are flushed and almost as warm as the sun. She's so lovely. Johnny thinks to himself, his hands caress her waist and his dark brown eyes fixate on hers, and a weight is lifted off of V's shoulders. Peace. She inhales, taking in a breath before she begins to grind and roll her hips back and forth against his lap, heaviness fills her lungs as a whine slowly rolls off her tongue. Groaning, he rests his cool silver hand against her cheek, cupping and shaping his hand to outline her jaw before his fingers gently caress her flushed warm cheeks, her eyes flutter close as she bites her tongue. "Fuck ... you're .... so fucking ... big." V whines, sucking in a breath as he stretches her warm silky walls and fills all the space inside of her to the point she feels more than full, but the way another whine slips from her lips tells him she's enjoying it. "Told you so ... didn't I, doll?" Johnny huffs, a chuckle coughing out at the end of his words before he wraps his fingers around her throat earning a gasp from the woman above him, her eyes widen for a moment before she wraps her hands around his arm. "Don't make love to me. .... I'm begging you to fuck me." V grins devilishly at the man underneath her, she begins to move her hips up and down, taking in all of him inside of her with ease and bliss boiling up inside of her. His hand slips away from her throat for a moment before he decides "fuck it" and wraps his hand around her throat once more, lightly squeezing against her throat, a gasp falls from her lips once more before his name falls from her lips. "Johnny ..." It sounds so sinful, so sweet, so arousing, the way she says his name, his body perks up at the sound and it's not long before he's chuckling devilishly and gazing intensely into her eyes. The pure lust, the bliss, everything that he was feeling she could see clouded in his dark brown eyes, the way he gazed into her eyes set her body ablaze with bliss. Fuck it, she wastes no time in slamming her hips down onto his lap, his throbbing cock curls into her sweet spot, repeatedly hitting it and sending waves of bliss shooting and bursting through her. Groaning at the ecstasy that pulsates and throbs through him, he pulls her in by the throat and firmly entangles her into a sloppy kiss that has saliva on the sides of V's mouth. "Johnny ..." V moans once more, slamming and throwing her hips down onto his throbbing cock, she's so full and his cock is all that taints her mind. "Hah ..." Heavy breaths and low murmurs of his name are the only things that roll off her tongue, his hand trails down from her neck to her breasts that move along with the motions of her body. He squeezes her breast and can see the way she shys away from him, turning her head away from his gaze as she continues to ride him, chasing and aching for sweet release. It's not far ...

"Goddamn V ..." Johnny growls, biting at his tongue as burning bliss boils up into him, it's bubbling and boiling inside of him, it's hot, passionate, and fucking intense. Grabbing at V's hair, he yanks her in his direction, almost demanding she keeps eye contact with him, moans of ecstasy fall from her parted lips as her lips rush at his, groaning and moaning against his lips she is in pure heaven. Only pulling away when she can feel him thrust his hips upwards into her, bliss and ecstasy become one and it leaves V nearly screaming his name at the top of lungs. The sensations that move and course through her being are hot, intense, and everything in between, her insides are hot, warm, and mushy. He's all that is on her mind, his bliss, her bliss, it's all she can fucking think about and she doesn't care how fucking insane she may seem. "Johnny ...! Oh!" V gasps breathlessly, clinging to him and wrapping her arms around him, he's moving ruthlessly in and out of her, repeatedly hitting her sweet spot that sends her nerves into a blissful frenzy that leaves her aching for more and more. She's getting wetter and hotter with each moment of ecstasy, her hips continue to slam onto his lap with the sounds of her body slamming onto his echoing through the stall. "Gonna ... gonna fucking ... cum soon! Oh, shit ...!" She whines, moan after moan leaves her red and almost swollen lips as she wraps her arms around him firmly, her hands clutch a fistful of his black hair as many curses fall from her lips, she can feel her body burn up like a fresh fire is inside of her. Johnny can feel it too, he's panting like a dog in heat as heavy breaths leave his lips, he can feel her hot silky walls cling to his throbbing cock, she grips him firmly and takes the breath out of him. "Shit ... shit, shit shit ... come all over my ... thick cock, doll ... don't stop until you can feel me ... in your guts ..." Johnny purrs in a heavy breath, his hands move from her back and trail down to her ass, squeezing firmly at the round flesh. It happens. V boils over, her thighs tremble and jerk against him, as a continuous and brutal wave of ecstasy washes over her, it's exactly what she fucking needed. She nearly tears out his hair and he can feel her grasp soften on his hair as he clutches onto her, growling into her neck and into her smooth skin. It shoots through him, in a powerful heated wave that comes at once, he presses himself deeper into her, stretching and driving as deep as he can into her. His warm semen coats her insides or whatever kind of semen a construct can give you but it's hot and warm and leaves her shuddering at the heat that fills her. She gets off of his lap, her thighs still trembling and her cheeks still flushed, she gets up and finds herself against the door before she positions herself onto the floor, legs all wide and dress ruffled.

"Damn ... not even fucking alive ... yet you can still give it like it's nobody's business ..." V chuckles, grinning warmly at him, strands of hair are in front of her eyes as she can see him pull a cigarette out of pocket before he lights it up, inhaling the toxic stick of nicotine that he was undeniably addicted to. "Course' I can, V ... whether I'm dead or alive, I can fuck the shit out of anyone ... is that proof enough for you that Johnny Silverhand has had an impressive cock, or do I need to prove it to you once again ...?" Johnny challenges her with a taunting smile that curls onto his lips, a heavy wave of smoke leaves his lips before he presses the cigarette into his lips once more. " ... Yeah, you were right, dickhead ... now home I guess? I am more than exhausted ..." V huffs, getting up from off the floor and fixing out her crimson red dress, a cigarette is wedged in between his fingers as he fades away out of her view, glitching back into 1's and 0's. A deep sigh leaves her lips as she exits the bathroom stall, she can feel eyes glaring at her and staring at her only to add to her shame as she quickly scurries out of the bathroom. Immediately gets back home and smiles when she finally makes it to her bed, clutching at her pillow as her eyes flutter for a few moments before closing. Goodnight, doll ...

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny/v #cyberpunk johnny #johnny silverhand #johnny x v #cp2077 #johnny x reader #cyberpunk 2077 smut #johnny x reader smut

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djarinbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

estoy caliente - javier peña

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

summary: taken in for ‘questioning’ after getting caught dealing information, you’re left with an ultimatum.

pairings: javier peña x female reader (just a little police au - not *fully* dea)

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+, smut, age gap (reader is of age), drinking, smoking... mentions of drugs... office sex, javier’s dirty spanish, reader’s dirty spanish, maybe a little feels...

a/n: this is my first time writing for Pedro. don’t mind me! let me know how you liked it...😇 btw, I am not fluent in spanish. I took three years in high school and occasionally speak it today. let me know if there are any errors.

a/n v.2: the message reader delivers is code, just like the cartel used to use. translation: there’s an order on Blue (Friday) on 300k. I’m on my way back and the transaction is completed.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The music was blaring through the club, sweaty bodies moving against one another and drugs were scattered all over the tables. To say that the dealers were keeping a low profile would be an obvious and blatant lie.

It was easy to tell who was under the influence, when you weren’t under the influence yourself. Which made every other person in the club stand out to you as high off cocaine. You walked around the smokey, the stuffiness of the snug club making your insides churn with disgust.

Deliver the message and get out of there. Your mind was screaming at you as you looked around the club once more, sighing when you couldn’t find the man you were supposed to meet. The disco ball suspended from the ceiling blinded you for a short moment as it turned, casting off the lights of the differently colored projectors.

You bite your lip as you scout for poli, making sure to overlook every entrance and every exit. You know by now that having a quick escape is a favorable thing when dealing information. When your ‘date’ finally appears on the dancefloor, you relax your shoulders with a sigh of content. Finally, you were one step closer to getting out of there.

You make your way towards him slowly, making sure to let your presence be known, not to take him or his men aback. “Señores,” you smile and watch as your date dismisses them with a wave of his fingers.

His hands find your hips, pulling you close to divert attention from the two of you, now lost in the sea of dancing individuals. You wrap your arms around his neck, both your bodies starting to move together, following the rhythm.

You lean, grazing your lips along his jaw, all the way up to his earlobe. El azul tiene un pedido de 49 62 62. Estoy con mi esposa, viajando por Mercedes… His hands tightened on your hips, alarming you slightly. He had definitely picked up something you hadn’t. Before you could register anything, the music cut out, the sound of gunshots filling the air in its absence.

“Manos arriba!” you freeze in your spot as the loud voice booms through the club. You barely make time to notice what’s happening other than shots ringing around your ears, before you’re making your way out the back door, running light on your feet in the god forsaken heels you chose to wear.

“Stop!” you hear from behind you, along with pounding, following footsteps. You continue your sprint, though your lungs are close to giving in. Looking back over your shoulder, you see the shadow of him gaining in on you.

You yelp as you topple over, landing in a patch of grass by the side of the pathway you’d made your way down. He’s on you in an instant – whipping you around, locking the cuffs of metal around your wrists. He mutters out an apology, which you answer with a grunt.

The roundup in front of the club is painstakingly slow. If it weren’t for him, you would be in bed. Without him, though. So, you figured this was the middle ground, and as long as he was the one who took you in, you didn’t mind.

“Ow, fuck! Get your fucking hands off me!” you try twisting out of the firm grip around your upper arm. The short, tight skirt you were wearing combined with the heels you'd settled for, made it hard to stay upright with the power he was pulling you forward with. The handcuffs on your hands behind your back made that task impossible as well.

“Càllate, hermosa.” His breath was hot against your neck, his face not far from the back of yours. With a roll of your eyes, you came to a halt in front of a table, biting the inside of your cheek as you felt the handcuff on one wrist come undone, before the cop turned you to face him.

Out in the dark, you were barely able to make out his face, but you knew him by smell by now. Under the lights of the office you found yourself in, you could now clearly see his face. It was so familiar to you by now, with all the times you’d woken up next to him. And damn, if that face didn’t turn you on, who were you to call yourself a woman?

"Sé cómo podrías hacerme callar, hermoso." You boldly pushed your chest against his as he leaned against you, feeling his hands reach behind you. His proximity let you inhale his scent of tobacco mixed with whiskey, cinnamon and just the right amount of him. You were somewhat surprised about how close he was given your location, your body easily absorbing the heat of his.

You sighed as you heard the clicks of the handcuffs locking around a bar on the table, slouching against his body with a pout. "You're really gonna keep me locked to a table, Javi?" Your eyes followed him as he moved swiftly around the small office he'd taken you to.

He poked his head out of the door to the office shortly, before shutting the door with a kick of his foot. He watches you as he shrugs off his leather jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair, pulling his gun out of the back of his pants before leaning over a desk, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. You push yourself up on the table slightly.

"You're causing me quite a bit of trouble, loba." you watch as he pulls a chair in front of where you're now seated, eyes on your face like you're his prey. "It's the fourth time I’ve had you in here this week." You watch as he brings the bottle to his lips to take a sip, his lips under the moustache wet with the alcohol. "You're gonna need to pay rent soon."

"Only if I get to stay in here with you, Javi, papí." Leaning back on your hands you feel one of the straps of your shirt fall off your shoulder. “Oops.” With a tilt of your head, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. “Surely you can find someplace else for your partner.” You giggle as his eyes turn to the sky, damn well knowing where he could find you when he came home.

“Estoy caliente, Javi…” you tease, lifting your shoulder just enough to let the other strap fall off on the other side, completely baring your clavicles to him. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he’s taking another sip of the whiskey, setting the bottle down on the floor beside him.

"Puedo pensar..." you kick off one of your heels, sliding your feet up the back of your calf, "en algunas cosas sucias..." the other heel follows the first one to the floor before leaning back, your free hand coming to the front of your skirt, lifting your hips to pull the hem up slightly, "que podemos hacer juntos..." you spread your legs lightly, showing him your glistening sex, "para pasar el tiempo."

Your heart leaps in your chest as you watch him swallow past a thick lump in his throat, his eyes still trained on your face. You let your eyes trail down your body, occasionally flicking up to meet his gaze. His teeth are chugging at his lower lip when he finally lets his eyes fall south, coming face to face with your pussy.

With a mere 3 feet between the two of you, the sweet smell of your arousal filled that gap quickly. "Sin bragas?” his voice has clearly dropped an octave, making your stomach flutter and your pussy clenches around nothing, faintly recalling the sweet pain he’d inflicted there that very morning. He raises one eyebrow before reaching back and pulling a cigarette out of one of the pockets on his jacket.

You nod slowly, watching as he lights the tobacco before leaning forward, propping his arms on his knees and resting his chin on the palms of his hands. "y ¿qué quieres que haga?" The cigarette hangs in the corner of his mouth as he speaks, occasionally lighting up as he sucks the smoke into his lungs.

“Like I said.” You stretch out one of your feet, placing just under his knee, before softly moving it up the inside of his thigh. You watch him think over possibilities as your eyes move over his face, scanning the widened pupils, the bottom lip tugged in between his teeth in the opposite side of where the cigarette rests. “I can think of a few things.”

His fingers are gentle as he clasps your calf in his hand, caressing your sensitive skin gently. He moves just a bit closer on the chair, lifting your leg onto his, placing your foot on top of his thigh. His nose grazes against the inside of your knee, his breath hot against your skin.

He takes a long, last drag of the cigarette before twisting his upper body, stubbing it out into an ashtray. “You’re gonna get us in trouble, you know that right?” He exhales before turning back to you, the doubts written clearly across his face. His eyes dart to the closed door before he rises from the chair, stepping closer to you. “No one knows about us. I could lose my job…”

“Javi it’s close to four in the morning. You saw how many people were here when you brought me in. We’ll only get caught if…” his body is against yours in an instant, making you halt in the middle of your sentence. His hands are on your ass, gripping the pulp skin harshly, sure to leave marks in their wake.

His hips are pushing against yours, letting you feel the hardness of his cock through the rough denim of his jeans. His lips ghost over yours slightly, nose touching yours before traveling down to leave a butterfly kiss on your shoulder, mustache tickling your skin.

“If what?” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear it, nonetheless. Your heaving chest flutters as his left hand runs along the outside of your thigh before caressing over the top of your skin, pushing your skirt up further. Your head is barely able to piece together a full sentence as his proximity overtakes you.

“I…” It’s shaky, trembling as the word spill from your lips. “We…” you let your head fall back as his lips attach themselves to your neck, sucking a bruise into the skin right over your pulse point, making you gasp. “Javi…” You can barely keep yourself up on your hands as his lips travel down, his hands roughly free your breasts from the shirt you’re wearing.

“No bra either? Dios mio…” You watch helplessly as his lips and teeth tug at your nipples, sucking hickeys into the pulps of your breasts. His hands are rough as they lift you slightly, pulling the skirt up and around your hips.

“Javi, take off my handcuffs…” you moan as he grinds his hips into yours, your arousal leaving a shameless wet patch against the fabric of his jeans. Your free hand travels between the two of you, unbuttoning his shirt with your fingers with a light struggle. You push the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor before unclasping his belt, popping the button on his pants and sliding the zipper down.

“No can do, hermosa…” With a frown you push his jeans down slightly, biting your lip as Javi pulls back just a little bit, letting you see the patch of pubic hair spilling over the opening in his jeans.

“Sin bragas, papí?” you tease with a bite of your lip, letting your hand run over the front of his stomach, before quickly letting them find their way into the front of his pants. Your hand wraps around the thickness of his length, the inhale of a breath getting stuck in his throat.

“Fuck.” There’s an uncertainty to whom of you had spilled the word, your eyes meeting briefly before your lips finally meet in a hard, bruising kiss. His tongue slides against yours as his hands push down his pants just far enough to let himself free.

“Can’t stand it when other men look at you.” He grasps his cock in his hand, swiping it through your folds before he pushes into you. His cock stretches you ever so deliciously, though the angle makes it difficult for him to fully push into you. With a flick of his wrists, your hips are angled to his liking and he’s sheathing himself fully into your heat. “All mine,”

With a wanton moan and a struggle of your left hand, your right arm clasps around his neck, whimpering as his hips ruts against yours. His hands dig finger-shaped bruises into your ass as he keeps a tight hold on your skin, groaning into your shoulder as his teeth sink into the muscle.

The drag of his cock against your walls is making your head spin, his strong hands holding you is turning you on so indescribably, his grunts of pleasure making you feel hotter like you’d ever felt before.

“Mm, ¿te gusta eso?” he whispers, drawing out the force of his thrusts and you whimper, your fingers intertwining in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He growls into your skin before coming up to face you, resting his forehead against yours.

“Sí, Javi!” you moan out wantonly, your tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He growls into your mouth as he picks up the speed of his thrusts, his hips slamming against yours animalistically, his hands holding your hips in place.

Your body jolts as his cock hits your insides perfectly, his thrusts encouraging moans from your lips. “You close, huh?” Javi groans into your mouth before sucking your lower lip into his mouth, biting and tugging at the tender flesh. You nod slightly, lip still trapped in between his teeth and you mewl when his fingers come into contact with your clit.

“Only I get to make you feel like this,” His hand briefly leaves your clit to come under your leg, fingers curling around the back of your knee as he lifts your limb up to rest on his shoulder. You let out a whine when he slides deeper into you, his cock hitting spots you didn’t even know you had. “Say it.”

Your moans are a whirlwind of yes, please and oh my god before his lips are against yours once more, silencing your whimpers from the undeniable pleasure the new angle is bringing upon you.

With the punishing pace of his unrelenting thrusts, you’re almost certain your soul leaves your body for just a short moment, as your orgasm crashes into you at full force. Your nails are painfully digging into the plump flesh of his shoulder as your cunt violently convulses around his length.

“Fuuuuuuuck..” Javi groans into your mouth as he stills deep inside of you, his cock pulsating ever so deliciously against your warm, contracting walls. His cum pumps through his shaft, coating your insides with the warmth of him, his breaths sharp and labored against your lips.

He pulls back slightly to look up at you, his arm lowering your now limp leg from his shoulder ever so carefully. His hands are soft against your skin as he caresses you, letting you come down from your euphoric high. He pulls out of your warm cunt, letting out a breath from the loss of contact.

You watch with hooded eyes as he pulls his pants back up, tucking himself back into the denim confinements before he pulls your shirt up over your breasts. He turns and grasps a few tissues to dry you off between your legs before helping you down from the table, pulling your skirt down to cover you.

On shaky legs you watch as he leans down and pull his shirt off of the floor, admiring him sliding his arms into the shirt before you watch him button it up, slowly leaning in to place another chaste kiss on your lips when he finishes.

“I don’t want you as an informant anymore.” He says as he turns, grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the table, before placing one between his lips. He turns back to you as he lights it, catching your dumbfounded expression, urging him to continue. He sighs as he looks down, holding out the pack for you.

You hesitantly take a cigarette for yourself, placing it between your lips watching him as he lights it for you. Javi knew you stopped smoking a while ago, yet he offered you one, just like when you started fucking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sit back on the table and watch him, inhaling the smoke deeply. You feel your fingers starting to tingle, letting you know the nicotine was doing its job properly.

“Me importas demasiado.” He bends down and grabs the bottle, unscrewing the lid before taking yet another sip of the strong alcohol. His hand comes up and straightens a furrow in his brow, sighing before approaching you again. His brown eyes are soft, warm, pleading.

His admission makes your exhale catch in your throat, making you cough harshly, and you grip the edge of the table to stabilize yourself. You look at him with wide eyes, not truly believing in his revelation. “Javi, you can’t just say something like that.”

The cigarette is back to your lips, your lungs inhaling the toxins greedily, trying to gain back control over the heart hammering in your chest. Javi steps around the table, finally freeing you from the handcuffs locked to the bar, and you grasp your sore wrist in your hand.

His warm hands find yours, taking a hold of your wrist. He brings it to his lips and kisses the angry red marks tenderly, making your heart flutter in your chest. That feeling – you’d felt it before.

Early mornings, the muted orange and pink light casting shadows on his tan skin. His lashes resting peacefully against his cheeks.

His warm eyes boring into yours when he’s on top of you, giving you the pleasure you so desperately longed for.

The safe place you found to be his apartment, the laughs, the longing looks. His lips against yours, whispering everything from the dirtiest words he knows, to the sweetest. The roughness, the softness.

That one time he let it slip, that one te amo that had knocked the air out of your lungs.

“Can’t live with myself if anything happens to you.” Your eyes find his and you feel your heart pick up the speed again. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. It was your one condition, and you’d broken it. How couldn’t you - seeing him like that, his tough façade gone...

Your hands came up to cradle his face, your thumb stroking his cheek as his eyes sought yours for something – anything at all. A few moments passed in silence, the only sound present was your breathing and a phone ringing somewhere in the distance. Javi sighed and let his eyes drop, biting his lip.

“Okay.” It was barely a whisper, but you know he heard it. His eyes shot back up to look at you, mouth slightly open… and then he kissed you. Soft, delicate. Just like the ones he would leave against your collarbones when he thought you were asleep.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena #Javier Peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #Pedro Pascal x reader #Javier Peña x you #pedro pascal

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itsumoegao · 4 months ago

Note

❝ you have so much potential but you’re wasting it away all for THIS . ❞ (For Black Swan verse) (nuravity)

Vs. the Villain

@nuravity

📗 Where did the Ace of Clubs see his potential when no one else did? Were her touching words a new tactic to win his favor and release her from the prison? No. Deceit was not her angle. He slipped the food tray onto the small window, sealing it shut before her side opened, presenting the hot meal of tempura and strawberry mochi for dessert.

Potential... She still didn't know he was quirkless. Something he could reveal to the newly missing Uravity however, discretion was key to his success. As much as he wanted to prove her wrong, [[ I am wasting nothing away ]] he was smart, not prideful and kept his thoughts where they sprouted. To himself.

The Black Swan at least gave her the courtesy of his attention, bleak eyes at half mast. Oh, you sweet, winter child you. Winter as he knew her birthday, December 27th. He took a seat by the glass wall dividing them, waiting for her to eat. Perhaps she saw he could have been in the same role as her? Would she have felt the same had she known his lack of any powers? He would never know.

"I will cease once I have defeated the Ace of Spades." His only real life goal as he couldn't be a hero, given the circumstances. "I can't be wasting anything if I have the symbol of victory in my hands. By then, you should understand." He leaned back. "Now, eat up. I even made your favorite mochi." Yes, the Swan knew her favorite foods as well.

#nuravity #V. Every Little Lie Gives Me Butterflies #Resolved Action ◾ Answered Asks #Thank you v much #I will always enjoy writing Black Swan !!! <3

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starrynite7114 · 4 years ago

Text

roommates: four

A/N: Hello everyone! Happy weekend! Hope your week has been a good one! So my brain has been going 100mph. I’m trying to calm it down and focus on one thing, but that’s proving to be hard. LOL BUT I’M TRYING. Sorry the updates are taking longer, I’ve been getting ideas and it just takes over my brain. School is starting back up next week so I’m going to try my best to go on a writing spree this weekend so I can try and update every week. Emphasis on TRY. But thank you for continue to support me, you all are just too lovely.

Also, I have two Angel request I’m going to try to post since they are half way done along with the EZ request. I’m really lagging on EZ, but it will be posted.

EZ request

Dance (Angel)

Always you (Angel)

Lake Part Two

Sex Guru Angel

Everything is you: part 12

Graduation (EZ request)

Rio request

Two Daddy Angel request: Snuggling and Trip to the aquarium

Groupchat for updates! Please join since the tags could be a bit iffy at times!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! My tag list is a little messy, but please let me know if you want to be added!

Masterlist

roommates

Word count: 7697

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, smut, angst

You looked at your closet, thinking of what to wear tonight for your date with Angel. He suggested that you wore something comfortable, casual, no dressy outfits.

‘But if you want to wear a skirt for my benefit, by all means mami, go right ahead.’

Angel was too much, but you weren’t complaining. Ever since you agreed to go on a date a few days ago, Angel has been occupying your bed. He always reasoned that it was due to the fact that your bed was comfortable, but you’ve slept on his bed before and it was equally as comfortable. You stopped trying to kick Angel out of your bed since you enjoyed his company. And you figured it wouldn’t be long till Angel got over this need to be with you. You felt like he was just scratching some itch about going down memory lane. You didn’t think Angel was interested and you figured this need he had for you would fade. You had no plans on furthering your relationship and it was to protect yourself and Angel. Agreeing to this date, you didn’t regret it, you wanted to go on a date with Angel, see how it was after all these years.

“It shouldn’t be this difficult to pick out clothes.” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“You don’t have to try and impress me, I’m already impressed.”

You jumped hearing Angel’s voice. You turned and found him leaning against your doorframe, looking sinfully good. His kutte was not on him for once. He was wearing a short sleeve black button up, jeans and boots. His hair was slicked back, newly trimmed along with his beard. But you had to remain strong, you couldn’t let Angel know that he made the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Or that whenever he smiled at you, you found yourself flustered since even when you were younger, Angel’s smile was your favorite thing about him. You made it your mission to keep that smile on his face. Whenever Angel was with you, you noticed how carefree he was and that’s all you could ask for.

You and Angel were always able to be yourselves around one another.

No bullshit, nothing.

“Impress you? Absolutely not, I dress for me baby.” You blew him a kiss before turning back towards your vanity. “Besides, just in case I see some other good looking guy wherever we go, at least I’m dressed to impress.” That was a lie, your eyes wouldn’t leave Angel’s tonight, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Look at you talking shit again.” Angel walked over to you just as you stood up from your vanity. When you turned around, you ran into Angel’s chest. One of his arms wrapped around you, while his hand cupped your face. Without any warning, Angel kissed you, which took your breath away as always. You thought that if you kept kissing Angel, the effects of his kiss would wither away, but you were wrong. It was like every kiss was different on a miniscule level, but it was and it always took your breath away. “This ass is mine baby.” He grabbed your ass, a moan escaping your lips. “God, let’s just order pizza and let me show you who that pussy belongs to.” He bit your ear, another moan coming out of you.

You bit your lip and looked up at him, your fingers began to unbutton his button up. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“No, no, don’t tempt me.” He captured your lips again, his hands stopping you from further undoing his buttons. “I got a night planned for us, but we can definitely have a happy ending later.”

You laughed. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Somewhere nice, fun.” He pulled away from you to stop the temptation he faced.

“So we’re going to a strip club?” You teased.

“Listen, if you want to go to a strip club baby girl, I’m down, but I would rather you strip this outfit for me later tonight.” He twirled you around, your skirt flowing along with the twirl. You wore a white v-neck for your top and a navy blue skirt, shorts underneath.

“Hmm, maybe.” You held up two pairs of shoes, one were heels, while the other were Air Jordan’s.

“Heels or Jordan’s?”

“Jordan’s, you don’t need heels where we’re going.”

“Can you just give me a hint?”

“It would defeat the purpose of a surprise.”

“You’re annoying.”

Angel chuckled. “Learned from your annoying ass.”

Angel had been driving for forty-five minutes and the sun had setted. It was nice to watch the sunset, listening to some old school jams, and with Angel’s hand was intertwined with yours. You could get used to this, but at the same time, you had your reservations. While Angel made it clear that the scars didn’t bother him, it was still an insecurity for you. Why would he want damaged goods? It was a thought that Carmelo basically embedded in your mind. Why would anyone want damaged goods? Why would anyone want to touch a woman who had someone else’s initials carved on them? He wanted to mark you up so that no one else would want you, so he could have you, you would have no choice. It was all about choice with Carmelo. He would be your choice, your only choice. He isolated you, made sure that you had no choice but to stay with him.

But then Medina came along and gave you a choice.

At first, it was just an escape from your reality.

Then the outings with his wife came about and Carmelo didn’t mind since he was mildly afraid of Medina’s wife.

Then eventually he helped you escape Carmelo.

You never asked for details, you didn’t want details. All you cared about was that Carmelo was gone.

“Baby, I lost you.” Angel softly squeezed your hand.

“Sorry,” you offered him a smile and you noticed that he had stopped driving. Looking at the place before you, you smiled. “Angel Reyes, you want to get your ass kicked on our first date?” He brought you to your favorite mini-golf place, a date you two had plenty of times when you were still teenagers.

“This isn’t our first date and kick my ass?” He scoffed. “Baby, daddy’s winning this.”

“Odd term to refer to me as, daddy, but I mean, whatever floats your boat.” You shrieked as you exited your car, grabbing your stuff.

You closed the door and Angel made his way over to you, backing you up against your car. “You’re such a shit talker today.” He smirked. “We should make this interesting.”

“How so?” You were intrigued.

“Let’s make a wager, if I win, you left me fuck you in your car after we finish, but if you win, you could have your way with me.”

“Ooh, or, if I win, we go home right after this, forget the rest of your plans and you can fuck me at home.” You whispered this in his ear, making Angel groan.

“Fuck it, you win, let’s go home.”

“No,” you shook your head. “We just got here, let’s play, just so daddy can hand your ass to you.”

Angel chuckled. “Keep that energy up.”

You were currently at the last hole for mini-golf. Angel was kicking your ass, which didn’t surprise you. You always knew he let you win when you two were younger.

“I can’t wait to have those legs wrapped around me.” He whispered into your ear as you made your way to hit the golf ball.

You scoffed. If you made a hole in one, you could win. But of course, the last hole was rarely the easiest.

“You look good sticking your ass out like that.” Angel licked his lips, the gesture was not amiss by you.

Looking over at Angel, you playfully glared at him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Is that your excuse of why you’re doing so terribly?” Angel smirked.

“Fuck you Angel.”

“That’s the plan baby girl.”

You rolled your eyes and hit the ball. And much like you predicted, you lost. Angel walked with that damn swagger towards you, but it seemed to have grown tenfold. His confidence made Angel so much more attractive. He was already an attractive guy, but this swagger, the smirk on his face, that shirt that accentuated his newly sculpted body, it was sinful.

How could you keep resisting him?

“I’m glad you wore the skirt.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“Easy access.”

You moaned, your fingers became entangled in Angel’s hair, your back arching as he continued to eat you out. His lips parted from your nether lips, the devilish smirk on his lips, your juices make his beard glisten.

“Fuck,” you breathed out. You would never tell Angel he was the best oral sex you ever had. Best sex you ever had, period. “I’m so close daddy.”

“I know baby,” he spat down on your pussy, the added lubrication was not needed, but the mere act of it turned both of you on. Angel slid in two fingers in you, your skirt was bunched up above your stomach, Angel watching his ringed fingers disappear in you. His rings would bump against your entrance, the cold metal making the experience that much more erotic. “So fucking tight like always.”

“Uh huh,” you panted. “Daddy please let me come, let me come on your dick.” Control was something you rarely gave, especially with everything that happened with Carmelo. But with Angel, it was almost natural.

Angel bit your inner thigh. “I told you that you would be begging for daddy’s dick.” His mouth was back on you once again, adding a third finger sliding in and out of you.

“That feels so good.” You whimpered, moving your hips to meet his.

“Don’t move.” He held your hips down, he sucked your clit in, the added sensation felt so good. You felt your legs shaking, the tears welling up in your eyes. Angel had already made you come three times prior to your impending one. “Look at you, my pussy is just clenching my fingers, wishing it was daddy’s dick. You want daddy to stretch his tiny pussy out?”

“Yes daddy,” you begged, your hand resting on his hand that was holding your hip down.

Angel chuckled. He increased the pace of his fingers and before long, you were arching your back, seeing stars as you screamed out Angel’s name. Angel continued moving his fingers in and out, your walls sucking him in, keeping you feeling full. Pushing him away, you moved down your folded middle seats and took a deep breath. Angel’s eyes were locked with yours, licking the juices that were on his fingers. He pulled you towards him, cupping your face as he kissed you, his tongue massaging yours, your hand drifting under his shirt. His lips hovered above yours as he stopped your hand from moving further.

“Not yet baby, let’s eat and then I can fuck that pretty little pussy.” He gave you one last peck and moved down to sit at the edge of your trunk. You two had gotten some In N Out burgers with fries and a shake. Once you were at the lookout that rarely anyone frequented at night, Angel tore your panties off of you and ate you out. Your food was cold now, but you didn’t give a fuck, Angel gave you some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had and you hated him for it.

You sat next to him, the wetness in between your thighs should have made you feel disgusted, but knowing it was due to Angel, it made you wetter. Angel handed you your burger. You didn’t realize how hungry you were till the burger was in your hand. You two quickly ate your burger and fries, the melted milkshake still hit the spot. Angel moved to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his chin on your shoulder.

The view of Santo Padre below you was breathtaking. You always enjoyed the peace and quiet, something Angel always tried to provide for you. Whenever you were stressed out, Angel provided the escape for you and you always appreciated how well he could read you.

“Why’d you come back to Santo Padre?” Angel always meant to ask you when he first saw that you had come back to this little town of his. He didn’t understand why you would come back, there was nothing here.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. After the whole thing with Carmelo, I wanted to disappear. Being up north just had too many memories and I was just embarrassed for everything that happened.” You leaned your head back against Angel’s chest.

“Embarrassed?” Angel’s head lifted, looking at your side profile.

“I was always so strong willed and wouldn’t take shit from anyone.”

“Say that again.”

You playfully elbowed Angel and he laughed, kissing your cheek. “I was embarrassed, I shunned my family and friends. Then when I finally opened my eyes, I could barely open them.” The memories of Carmelo’s abuse never waned, it was always present like it occurred the previous day. It was easier to mask your feelings or the fear you felt during those times. The scars on your back were nothing compared to the scars he inflicted within. How low you felt always came to hunt you. Confidence was always something you possessed, it was reinforced by your family along with your friends. Cheating was a deal breaker and abuse was above that. After the first hit, you always questioned yourself why you didn’t leave, then you realized that the emotional abuse started before the physical. Carmelo caught you in a low point, a patient had died on you, a nine year old and he swept in. The way he belittled you, it made you feel like an inadequate nurse and that’s when the abuse truly started. He knew how to make you feel low, reminding you that due to your inadequacy the nine year old passed.

But you realized now that it wasn’t your fault.

But Carmelo already had done his damage.

It took you some time to recover, but being up north suffocated you. The further south you were the better and for some reason, you ended up in Santo Padre. Your mentor, Pierre, an older ED physician took a job in Santo Padre Medical Center and you followed. Santo Padre always held special memories for you and a change of scenery was needed. You didn’t think you would run into Angel, but fate had another thing planned for you.

“This wasn’t your fault you know.” Angel hated hearing the defeat in your voice, the embarrassment. A man who was supposed to cherish you and protect you was the one who did such incredible damage to you. Angel could not forgive that. He had to find Carmelo and kill the mother fucker. He didn’t deserve to be walking on this earth after what he did to you.

“I know that now. He got me when I was in such a low place. He made me feel like a million dollars, but he also made me feel like I was the lowest scum in the world. I loved him, all I wanted was for him to love me. He always told me he did, that when he hit me, he was trying to correct bad behavior so that I would remain perfect.” You felt your chest tightening up thinking of Carmelo’s words. How he sunk his claws into your brain was something you never understood, but it happened.

Angel didn’t want to indulge in going down memory lane about Carmelo, but he wanted to know just how much he hurt you. Though, Angel realized that this may not have been a good idea since he felt his blood boiling. This was supposed to be your date, he shouldn’t be fucking worried about Carmelo. But he was going to find this man and make sure he endured the pain you went through, even greater than.

“He’ll never be able to touch you again.” Angel whispered against the side of your head.

“Medina took care of him.”

“I know baby, but you’re with me now. He will never go near you again.”

And you believed Angel. As long as he remained your roommate, you felt invisible, untouchable. The Mayans were well respected, well feared in Santo Padre. They didn’t need to be like, their presence invoked different types of emotions from everyone.

“When you get married, you should let me rent out a room so you can assure I would stay safe.” Angel knew your tactic. You were subtly trying to put him in the friend zone by mentioning his future without you by his side. It was cute, but that wasn’t going to work on him. He would show you that he was worth a second chance.

“Why would you need to rent a room when you’re going to be sharing a room with me?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You’re too smooth Reyes.”

“Maybe, but don’t act like I didn’t just give you a couple of mind blowing orgasms. You can keep trying to push me away, but it’s not going to work.” Angel turned your face towards him, kissing you.

You pulled away, your eyes closed as you relished the feel of Angel’s lips against yours. “Has it always been this intense between us?” Your forehead rested against his.

“Do you just try not to remember our relationship?” He gave you a quick peck again.

“Shut up, I do, but I don’t know.” You turned to face Angel, wanting to see his reaction to your conversation. “Sometimes I look back at our relationship and wonder what would have happened if we had stayed together.” It was a thought that was always at the back of your mind. The what ifs scenario.

What if you stayed with Angel? Where would you two be? Would you two be together? Would you two have fallen apart?

What if you decided to come back to Santo Padre after you became a nurse? Would you two have reconnected?

For years after you left, you thought of Angel often. Your connection was always strong when you were younger and at times you felt it may have been too early for you two. That if you met at a later time, things would have been different. You remembered when Angel would sneak into your room, sleep over and pretend he was coming to pick you up in the morning. It wasn’t often but you enjoyed those late nights, talking about your future. He always spoke about your future, how you would be together. Yet when you told him you love him, he just said thank you.

He was your first love.

And they always said you’ll always love your first love.

It irked you how true it was.

Ever since you came back, seeing how Angel grew up after all these years, the love you had for him resurfaced and it grew stronger. But you weren’t willing to take the risk. Angel never seemed interested to rekindle your relationship till recently. At times, before this whole thing when you would share a bed, you would watch Angel sleep. He had no worries in the world and had to always be touching you while you were asleep. His arms and legs didn’t have to be around you, at times, his fingertips were just touching your arm and he was good. Or his arm would be against yours as he slept on his stomach and it helped his craving to be always touching you.

Angel wasn’t sure when it started, maybe it was after the first time you two shared a bed, but regardless, Angel craved your touch. It was his love language.

“We’d be married by now with at least three kids.” Angel’s answer was so firm and sure.

You grinned, shaking your head. “Yeah? You’re so confident about this.”

“Listen, just because we broke up or we were young, it doesn’t mean our relationship was nothing. I knew that I wanted you for the rest of my life then and it hasn’t changed now. You came back to Santo Padre in your own accord and I knew that meant that this was our second chance and I wasn’t going to fuck it up.” Angel took your hand in his, intertwining it. “I know you’re not ready, I know the wounds he left you are still fresh, but I’ll wait. I’m inpatient, but you’re worth the wait. So all these doubts in your mind? About me not wanting damage goods or your choice to not rekindle previous relationships? That’s well and fine, but I’m here to shut those thoughts down.” He didn’t want to tell you he loves you, not yet. He would wait because he knew when things became too much, your default was to just freeze everything out.

“I’m scared.”

“You have no reason to be.”

And you wanted to believe him, but it was going to take time. You just hoped he didn’t get tired of waiting.

=================

As soon as you stepped through the door, Angel was all over you. Once you managed to lock the door, he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his body. He made his way to your room, softly placed you on the bed. He unbuckled his belt and removed it, your eyes never leaving him. Biting your lip, you stood up and maneuvered him to sit down. Unbuttoning his pants, you kissed him, pulling away so you could help him remove his jeans and boxers. Once they were pooled around his ankles, you got on your knees, wrapping your hand on his cock, your thumb spreading the precum on the tip of his cock. Spitting down at his cock, moving your hand up and down causing Angel to close his eyes. You proceeded to give a few kitten licks on the head of his cock before you engulfed it in your mouth.

Angel groaned, holding your hair together as he watched you hollow your cheeks as you moved up and down his length. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning out your name.

“Fuck baby, you look so fucking hot like this.” You moved away from him, sliding your hand up and down his hard length. You take him all the way in, swallowing around him making Angel groan once again. He was trying hard not to fuck your mouth, but you were making it difficult. Dipping your tongue at the slit on the top of his length, Angel caught the smirk on your face as he lost himself watching you engulf his length back into your mouth. Using both your hands and mouth, Angel laid back on your bed, his hand wrapped around your hair, guiding you up and down. The moans that he was letting out was turning you on, you could feel just how wet you were. Knowing you brought such pleasure to Angel, it made you feel good. “Shit, I’m coming.” You took him in deeper, Angel fucking your mouth, groaning out your name as he came.

You let him go with a pop, you smirked as some of his cum seeped from the corner of your mouth before you put it back inside, swallowing it.

“You’re such a good girl,” Angel sat up, his hand still entangled in your hair. He bent down and captured your lips with his, you moaned as you felt him slightly tug your hair, his lips hovering over yours. “Daddy should reward you for being so good.”

“Please daddy,” you were giving Angel total control tonight. You could always be a brat, but tonight, Angel could have you.

Standing up, you stepped away from him to remove your skirt. Your hand was at the hem of your shirt, but you hesitated. Angel saw your hesitation and he gave you a small smile.

“You don’t have to take it off baby girl, you can keep it on.” He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wanted to make you feel good. The last thing he wanted was for you to worry about your scars.

You bit your lip and took off your shirt. Angel’s smile widened as he saw your body for the first time. You took off your bra and threw it at him. He laughed and caught you when you jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your lips together. One of your hands went back down to his length, moving your hand up and down wants again.

“Does daddy want his pussy wrapped around his dick?” Your lips hovered over his lips, smiling as Angel was catching his breath, his attention obviously on the sensations he felt around his length.

“Yeah baby girl, let me get my pussy.”

You positioned yourself above him, slowly sliding down his length. Moaning as your pussy stretched to accommodate him. Throwing your head back, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails digging in on his skin.

“You’re so big daddy, it feels so fucking good.” You whimpered out as he bottomed out.

Angel looked down at where you two were connected, biting his lips as he waited for you to adjust. You moved up and down, your walls clenching around him making Angel moan your name out.

“Baby, stop clenching my dick.” He chuckled, kissing you to help you relax.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly.

Guiding you to move up and down his cock, Angel watched your face, memorizing every facial expression you had.

“You feel so fucking good baby, tight, wet, always ready for daddy.” Angel whispered against your ear.

Your pace was slow, the burn Angel provided was basically imprinted in your mind. Ever since you two slept together, you haven’t slept with anyone and your dildo, vibrators, definitely did not compare to him, but gain, you would never let Angel know that. Angel’s fingers came in contact with your scar and you slightly froze. Before he could lose you, Angel cupped your face, brought your lips down to his.

“Don’t, stay with me.” He thrusted up into you, your brain fogging as the overwhelming pleasure Angel was giving distracted you. Watching Angel as he licked his thumb, he pressed it against your clit, even adding greater pleasure to you. Increasing your pace, you used his shoulder as leverage as you moved up and down his length, walls clenching around him. “You’re safe, you’re with me and I would never let anything happen to you.”

One arm was around his neck, his hand cupping his face. Your lips were above his, your breath mixing as you chased your high. Angel rubbed your clit, biting his lips as he watched you bounce on his length.

“Yeah baby girl, daddy can feel it.” Angel latched his mouth around your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple.

“Daddy, oh my god, just like that.”

You threw your head back, black stars filling your vision. Both of your arms were around Angel, your walls still spasming around him. Angel peppered your skin with kisses, sucking on a few spots on your neck that was sure to make a mark.

“You were talking so much shit not too long ago and now look at you.” Angel smacked your ass, making you yelp, biting your lip. “Have to stop fighting the inevitable querida.” He grabbed your ass, grinding you down against him.

“You’re so determined about us.”

“I’m confident in every aspect of my life, especially when it comes to you.”

You laughed at his comment, which turned into a choked moan when you felt Angel thrust up into you.

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me?” He questioned, making sure you were comfortable. He wanted to show you that your scars, they were nothing to be ashamed of. It didn’t change you. He would never force you out of your comfort zone, especially about something that truly traumatized you.

“Okay.”

“Put your chest on the bed.”

You did as Angel instructed. You rested your chest against the bed, you turned your head so you could see Angel. He was looking at your back, no trace of disgust in his eyes. For once, you didn’t feel judged, scrutinized or even pitied. He just looked at your scars as if he was memorizing them.

“Angel,” you called out to him, bringing him back to you. “Come back to me.”

Angel was mesmerized by her scars. Thinking of how many times Carmelo must have hurt you, what he used to inflict such damning scars on your back. And that carved ‘C’ on your back, he tried not to focus on Carmelo’s actions, not wanting to lose himself right now, but he was angry he wasn’t there to protect you. It seemed irrational, he wasn’t part of your life then, but if remained a part of your life, Carmelo would have never been able to harm you. All he could think about was covering these bad memories up, a design to show you that with every scar, every hurt he caused and every tear you shed, there was life after and while he could never make you forget what occurred, he would build new memories to show you that you were worth it, that you were beautiful.

That you were loved.

“Sorry baby.” He kissed your back. Angel took his length in his hand, moving it up and down your slit, and pressing it against your clit, teasing you. When he finally slid in, you both groaned, your hands gripping the sheets. “Daddy’s too big, huh?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip drawing blood. At times you wondered what would have happened if you slept with Angel. You’re certain he improved his skills over the years, but fuck, you would have been addicted. And there was no shame, Angel’s stroke game was strong.

“Didn’t hear your answer,” Angel stopped moving, only the tip of his cock inside of you.

“Yes, you’re too big daddy, but I love how you stretch me out.” You gripped the tip of his cock, Angel groaning and pushing back in. You hummed, content that he was buried inside you once again.

Angel slid in and out of you, slow, deep. His slow pace was driving you crazy. You knew he was trying to restrain himself, savoring the moment as best as he could. He heard you sigh, leaning down so his front was against your back. He moved his hands from your hips to your hands that was gripping the sheets. He intertwined your hands, placing small kisses on your upper back before moving to your neck, nipping at your skin, earning tiny moans from you as he stilled inside you again. This wouldn’t be the last time you two would be intimate, but with everything that has occurred, he was just reveling at the moment.

“Daddy, please go faster.” You pleaded, gasping as he began to pound into you.

“Like this querida?” He moved one hand to wrap around your neck, slightly pulling you back so you were slightly lifted off the bed, while his other hand remained on yours. Angel began pounding in and out of you, the pressure he had on your neck was just the perfect added sensation.

You moaned out his name, his hand gripping yours along with the sheets. His lips was beside your ear, grunting as continued to pound into you.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” He coaxed. He felt your walls clenching him, your impending orgasm

“Angel,” the way you whimpered his name, it was intoxicating. It was embedded and his memories, a sound he wanted to head over and over again.

“You ready to cream daddy’s dick?” Angel was close as well, that familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach was there. His pace became stuttered, continuing to pound into you.

“Yes daddy.”

Angel moved the hand against your throat down your front until he reached your tiny nub, the one that’s been screaming for attention. Wetting it with your own combined juices, he rubbed your clit, your orgasm almost came instantly. You cried out his name, your volume would sure have the neighbors aware of what was occurring. Angel came after you, his throbbing cock stilling inside you as he coated your walls. You felt your legs shaking as you came down from this high. Angel slipped out of you, his come seeping out. He smacked your ass, causing you to moan, but that’s all you could do. You were spent in the best fucking way.

Angel kissed his way up your body, turning your head to face him when he got to the top. He kissed you, turning your body so that you were on your back. Cupping your face, the way he caressed made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“So you gonna quit playin’ and be my girl?” Angel pulled away from you long enough to ask before kissing you again.

This man’s lips were sinful.

Hell, everything about Angel Reyes was sinful.

How was he going to kiss you after asking that?

You sighed, pulling away so his lips hovered above yours. Opening your eyes, you met Angel’s intense stare and caressed his face with your hand.

“I thought I was already your girl?” You teased, closing the gap between you for a quick kiss. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am, are you?” Angel wanted it to be your choice. If you needed more time, he would give that to you.

You moved the back of your hand against Angel’s cheek, his brown eyes looking at you, waiting for your answer. The fact Angel always put the ball on your table, it was different and much appreciated.

“Yes, I am.”

=================

You sat beside your co-worker at work, watching the clock so it would go faster and you could go to lunch. You were at the clinic today and you had a surge in the morning, but currently, you had no patients. Trying your best not to yawn, you hold it in and check your phone. Angel’s name popped up and you smiled.

Favorite Roomie 🍆😏 ‘You want some meat for lunch? 😏’

You cackled.

‘Mmm, feeling veggies today.’

You placed your phone down feeling eyes on you. Looking over, you found your work bestie, Jasmine giving you a knowing look.

“What?” You asked.

“What did BD want?”

“BD?” You were confused by her abbreviation.

“Big dick.”

“Jas!” You playfully smack her. “He’s just being a little shit.” Lifting up your phone, Angel’s reply made you cackle once again.

Favorite roomie 🍆😏

Stop being a little shit, you a rabbit? I know your kind of rabbit. 😏 But for real, what do you want from Wendy’s? I’m in line.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

‘Nuggets and fries, and a frosty.’ ‘Also, how did you know it’s lunch?’

Placing your phone down again, Jasmine shook her head. “You two have been dating for how long now?”

“Two months?” You couldn’t believe the two months passed as quickly as it did. One day you were just roommates, the next he basically moved into your room and the next, he was your boyfriend. The adjustment hasn’t been difficult at all. Angel was always very affectionate, but the biggest difference was the intimacy. The kisses, the sex, and just the sweet little things he would do for you.

“You know it’s been a year at this point. He was just waiting for Adam to be gone and boom, slid in.” Jasmine was ecstatic for you. She was the first friend you made in Santo Padre. When you told her you lived with Angel Reyes, she applauded you. She knew of Angel’s reputation, it was hard to not know about the Mayans. From her friends who had slept with Angel, she heard nothing but raving reviews. And besides that, it seemed that Angel was a solid guy, nice, but ghosted them afterwards. But then when you spoke to her about Angel, the things he did, even she knew he was in love. Then she witnessed your interactions at the Mayans Clubhouse or the BBQ’s you two held at your place, she knew it was only a matter of time.

Picking up your phone, Angel had replied.

Favorite roomie 🍆😏

I literally eat lunch with you every fucking day. You always play like I don’t know you.😒🤔 A creature of habit. Got it baby. You got time to suck daddy’s dick though? 🤔 Also, did you change my motherfucking name on your phone?

You choked on the water you were drinking, shaking your head. Angel has been changing his name on your phone to future husband and you would change it back to your favorite roomie. Ezekiel was named future brother in law, which surprised you.

‘You’re too damn much.’ ‘Hmm, since you’re bringing me food, sure.’ ‘I’m not saying you don’t know me, I just didn’t think you’d keep on track of that.’ ‘Of course I did, you’re my favorite roomie.’

“Did you tell him that you got a job offer in LA from Pierre?”

Pierre, your ED doctor friend/mentor, lived in LA predominantly and did a few shifts in Santo Padre as some community outreach. He worked at Cedars Sinai and got you a job, which was amazing since Cedars Sinai was at the center of LA and you could learn so much more.

“No, I mean, I doubt I’m going to take it.” You shrugged.

“It’s Cedars Sinai, it would open opportunities for you.” Jasmine knew why you were hesitant, but this opportunity didn’t come by often.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Angel’s voice startled you.

“Give me your phone. Favorite roomie.” He scoffed, extending his hand towards you.

“Boy, you’re not just going to demand shit without at least saying hello.” Jasmine scolded.

Angel held his hands up. “Sorry Jas, hello, how you doing, I got you some nuggets from Wendy’s.” He handed her the bag of food he got for her. “Come on baby, phone.”

“Angel, it’s not my break yet.”

“Yes it is, it’s 12:30 on the dot. Let’s go.”

Jasmine chuckled. “Better listen to the asshole over here.”

“That’s right. Listen to me, let’s go.”

You rolled your eyes before hugging Jasmine. Taking your phone, you followed Angel to the van and went to the back where Angel usually set up a blanket for you two to sit in and fool around if you had time.

Settling on the blanket, you take out your food and your mouth watered. “You’re the best babe.”

“Yeah I know,” he leaned over to give you a kiss and grabbed your phone. He unlocked your phone, keeping your phone away as you tried to grab it. “If you change this shit one more fucking time, I’m going to cuff your hands and edge you.”

You gave Angel an incredulous look, pushing him. “Angel, why do you keep changing it? Are you not my favorite roomie.”

“I’m not your fucking roommate, I’ve been upgraded to boyfriend.” Angel scoffed. He didn’t want to be offended by your constant need to change his name on your phone. He figured it was some weird defensive mechanism you had since you were the worst with change. He was surprised you had decided to move to LA, but he realized that you grew up in Los Angeles and moved to Santo Padre at the beginning of high school. He remembered how closed off you were and didn’t really open up till sophomore year and once you did, you and Angel clicked.

“Should I put favorite boyfriend then?” You teased him. The word husband had such certainty to it. You two had just begun dating. Sure, you two dated in high school and you two have been roommates for years, but that didn’t equal immediate marriage.

“Or you can stop playing and put future husband.” Angel rolled his eyes as he took a bite from his burger, shoving a few pieces of fries in his mouth. “We have a party at the clubhouse later, what time should I come get you?”

“Come get me? Angel, I’m not going. I’m going out with Jas, you know this.” You took a bite of your nuggets, leaning against the van. “And don’t even say bring her to the clubhouse, we’ve been planning this for weeks.” Captain Marvel came out and you and Jas had been planning to see it since it was announced.

“Shit, that’s right. Stop by afterward?” He suggested. Being with you was easy for Angel. Eating lunch with you every day, cooking with you at home, grocery shopping, cuddling, laundry, fucking, building furniture you get for the apartment, and fucking, it was all easy for Angel. What he was finding difficult was when you would be lost in your own world, or revert back to just putting this distance between you two as just friends. A few nights ago, you had locked the door and he came home late, he knocked on your door till you finally answered, and you were slightly irate then apologized for locking the door on him.

“Okay.”

You two ate in silence, both of your attention mostly on your Instagrams. Angel didn’t like this type of silence between you two since it was just awkward. You two could usually talk about random topics, but as of late, if you two were together, you would occupy yourself with your cell phone.

“You’re serious about us, right?” The insecurities Angel had screamed at him on the daily. His feeling of inadequacy stemming from him being in the shadow of his younger brother. The love he never felt from his own father, being second best. His mother tried her best and Angel felt she did love him, but his father was a different story. With the hesitancy and the hot and coldness you presented towards Angel, it frustrated him. While he was sure of his feelings for you, he felt that while you seemed present in the relationship a majority of the time, there were times where it seemed like you two weren’t together, that you two were just friends. He felt like he was your fuck buddy.

You gave him an incredulous look and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You understood Angel’s questions in some way. You could be hot and cold, which made you feel terrible, but it was hard not to be. Keeping a distance between you two was the safer option for now.

“I don’t know Y/N. At times, I feel like you’re just not in it. We literally eat together every day, so why ask me how I know it’s your lunchtime? You keep changing my name on your phone and girls usually find that shit cute. You know, I just don’t understand why you have this wall up between us. I’m committed to us, I’ve been committed.”

A frown appeared on your face, not liking how you made Angel feel. It wasn’t on purpose. You did this with almost every man you dated or boyfriend after Carmelo. If you didn’t get incredibly attached, you wouldn’t miss red flags like you did with Carmelo. Keeping yourself above the water, and alert, you wouldn’t have to worry about falling back into such blindness.

“It’s not on purpose. I told you, damaged goods remember?” You could feel his intense eyes trained on you, while your eyes remained on the nuggets on your lap. “Maybe this is too soon? Or I’m just not ready.”

“You fucking dated Adam.” Angel let out in frustration.

“Yes but Adam doesn’t have any added complications with him. I had fun and my only worry is basically just my job. There was no stress with him because,” you paused, trying to form the right words. “I didn’t love Adam, he was fun to have around and I never had to worry about losing myself with him. But with you, every time I’m around you, I find myself falling even greater. If we ever broke up, I would lose our friendship. If I lost myself in this relationship, I may not catch red flags like I did with Carmelo.” The seriousness of this conversation was weighing heavy on you. You didn’t want to have this conversation during a fucking lunch break. “Fuck, can we please talk about this later? This isn’t the right place for this.”

“Nope, you’re going to find some way to ghost me. You don’t think I’m afraid of that too? You’re not fucking damaged goods, stop saying that. What Carmelo did to you was despicable, but look where you are now. You’re an amazing woman. You are also a woman who wears her heart on her sleeves and gives her all.” Angel watched as you fidgeted with your fingers, moving your food every once in a while. “I understand why you’re hesitant mi cielo, but, I’m not Carmelo and I never will be Carmelo. I’m in this relationship for the long run, I have no thoughts about us breaking up or anything fucking ridiculous like that. Open your heart to me Y/N, I’ve never hurt you once.”

“You said thank you.” The night of prom was still so fresh in your mind. You knew then that you and Angel weren’t going to last much longer.

“What?”

“When I told you I love you, you said thank you.” You smiled sadly, closing your food and placing it on the bag. “I should go, my break is over.”

Angel watched as you exited the van.

“Fuck!” He yelled out.

He said thank you because he knew you two were going to separate. If he acknowledged his feelings for you, if he told you he loved you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go.

And now, of course it would bite him on the ass.

=================

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#angel reyes #angelreyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc imagine #roommates

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megumi-stan · 4 years ago

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|Soothe Me | M.F x Reader

A/N: It’s Soft Megumi hours! This was supposed to be a NSFW piece, but it was just so sweet i didn’t want to take the story there and distract from his loving and overall caring energy!

All characters are aged up in this story! Also, quick reminder that I’m open for requests :)

Dedication: Thank you so much @timewehad for sending such a sweet ask! You definitely motivated me to finish this thing i started a few days ago and completely forgot in my drafts!

Fighting curses for a living had a price. Besides the constant endangerment of your life.

Sore muscles.

Every time you bent down to tie your shoes, seven different muscles pulled painfully and at least ten vertebrae locked in place, forcing your body into a struggle to straighten itself. If you could walk just looking at the floor without it being weird, you wouldn’t bother to endure the hell that came with a straight spine. If only you had eyes in the top of your head like some of those slimy creatures you fought regularly, your life would be ten times easier.

After one particular busy night, your bed was calling your name. Busy in the sense that little weak curses kept popping around every corner nonstop, like a wicked game of whack-a-mole, only without the hammer. If you had one of those at hand, you surely would feel a lot less stressed. Something about smashing things was an exceptional way to relieve pent-up frustrations.

Walking up to your bed proved to be an arduous task, with your stiff legs and trembling muscles, but slowly you made progress. Your chest felt like it was about to cave in from exhaustion as you were slightly aware of the shower running and Megumi’s soft voice mumbling the lyrics of some cheesy 80’s love song he unexpectedly knew the lyrics of.

The soft comforter brushed your legs when you got to the bedside, and with no grace flopped down face first into it. You tried to kick off your slippers, but failed terribly as they refused to let go of your feet, so giving up you just left your legs dangling off the side.

Megumi’s sweet singing and the storm outside was a perfect recipe for sleeping, and right at that moment sleeping was all you could manage. Lulled, you drifted off into the place between dream and reality, still slightly aware of everything going around you but too busy making up fictional scenarios where you were laying on Megumi’s chest as a soft warm breeze ruffled your hair and the smell of ocean drowned the smell of coffee that lingered in your bedroom.

“What are you doing?” The fog dissipated, and suddenly you were face to face with your boyfriend.

Megumi had gotten out of the shower and was crouching down on the floor. A soft smile curved the tip of his full lips and amusement glinted in his eyes. Your eyes scanned his face and traveled lower, to the sharp curve of his jaw and the smooth skin of his throat. Drops of water still clung to his bare chest and glistened under the warm light of lamp resting on your bedside table. He looked like one of those greek gods you often appreciated in old paintings, all hard muscle but with a peaceful aura surrounding him, looking like he was a minute away from growing wings and taking off into the sunlight.

You hummed in acknowledgment and turned to your side, ten different vertebrae and a shoulder blade popping in the process. You winced, eyes drifting shut at the sharp spike of pain followed by the bliss of relieved pressure off of your nerves.

“Well, that sounded painful...” His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair out of your eyes and they lingered on your cheekbone, tracing idle circles on your skin. “I’m assuming work was a pain on your ass, huh?” Leaning in, his mouth lingered above your brow for a millisecond before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. His breath tickled you and warmth blossomed in your heart.

He got up and walked to the pile of clothes resting stop of a chair in the room’s corner. Your eyes followed his figure and never once blinked as you took in his graceful strides and the patch of pale skin often hidden by his pants, but now on full display because of the towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. He always complain about the word “beautiful” every time you used it next to the “you are”. He would argue non stop, stating you were just trying to boost his ego, but you never once found another word to describe him, and somehow you still felt that Beautiful wasn’t enough.

Not even the other girls gawking at him in the streets and shamelessly flirting while you, obviously his partner, stood next to him seemed to prove your point to Megumi. You couldn’t even be angry at the flirts. He was a sight worth of painting, framing, even adoring. He could be a god disguised as a mere mortal for all you knew, and even that would make more sense. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to be as breathtakingly beautiful as he was.

Even casually standing and just roaming through the pile of clothes, he made your stomach curl with something hot and heavy. The muscles on his arms flexed and his shoulder blades moved underneath his skin, doing very interesting things under the dim lights that had you hypnotized, eyes glued to his back and taking in everything they could, committing every single dip and crevice to memory. You could barely breathe while looking at him.

As if he could have felt your eyes on him like a caress, Megumi looked at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk tilted his mouth and a small barely noticeable dimple appeared on his cheek. Your muscles tensed at the sigh, suddenly too hot and bothered to relax when it was obvious he was evening something. The glint in his forest green irises was a dead giveaway.

Sighing intently while his eyes never once left your form, he loosened his grip on the towel. The white fabric slipped across his legs as it came undone and landed at his feet. Traveling the distance your fingers twitched to travel as well. He was sideways, showing you his profile as he grabbed a pair of loose black sweatpants. His well-defined thighs were teasing you, seemingly mocking you along with the deep V on his hip. His position was so that nothing too inappropriate could peek, and you were never awakened as fast as in that moment.

He slipped the pants on, managing not to flash you in the process and came right by your side, the smell of spice and pine from his deodorant enveloped you in a hug as he, in a sweet action that had your belly feeling funny from the amount of butterflies fluttering around, took off your slippers, his fingers casually brushing the arc of your feet and triggering chills down your arms.

“Thank you...” You muttered, turning to lie on your back. Another joint popped, but you couldn’t feel which one it was. Megumi Chuckled at this and shook his head while circling the bed. He sat down with his back against the headboard, going through his phone. His hip bone was leveled with your head and the temptation to just press your lips against it was poking your brain, but your body refused to move a few inches to do so. You were so exhausted and even tho it was worth it you couldn’t for the love of god lift your head from the mattress.

“Tired?” he questioned, while his fingers made their way to your head and sunk into your hair. With knowledge he had from years of dating and even before that when you two were just friends, Megumi’s fingers stroke your scalp, earning a soft hum of approbation from you. You looked up and found his eyes already on you, phone long forgotten because of the new task he had at hands.

“Yeah, a little…” You said, with your eyes fluttering close to enjoy the attention he was giving you.

Megumi patted your head a few times to catch your attention, and when you looked at him, he extended his arms towards you, asking you to get in between them. “Come here…” He invited, a sigh laced in his words.

You tried to push yourself up from the bed, but your treacherous arms failed you, giving up under your weight and sending you face first into your bed.

“Your helpless… You know?” Megumi chuckled under his breath before one of his arms snaked around your waist, his bicep flexing and pulling you onto his lap. Once he had you where he wanted, with your back pressed against his chest and his hands resting on your midriff, he kissed your cheek. Your eyes drifted shut simply enjoying his presence, letting the even rais and fall of his chest calm your mind. “Can i have a kiss?” he muttered, resting his chin on your shoulder, and peering at you with those forest green eyes that seemed to shine, and when he was so tender towards you, how could you deny?

Your chest soared with his words, so you turned your head to meet his awaiting lips, you could almost feel the softness of his mouth when a sharp searing pain stabbed your spine halting your movements as you squeezed your eyes tight. “Shit,” You cursed, pressing your palm against the ache in the back of your neck, hoping it would do something to soothe it.

“Oh, god… Baby, let me see?” Megumi’s fingers pried yours away and then brushed your hair away. His fingers thumb brushed your skin two times over the spot you were holding, and even though it still hurt, his concern seemed to tone the pain down a little.. “Does this hurts?” He applied a little more pressure and when you didn’t wince he kept going, tracing circles and working to erase the knots and kinks that bothered you. “Lean forwards for me…”

Doing just what Fushiguro instructed, you leaned forwards as he shifted underneath you. Suddenly you were no longer sitting on top of his legs but instead sitting in the mattress while his thighs circled yours, pressing against them and allowing his warmth to seep into your legs through the fabric of your jeans.

His other hand soon joined, and his fingers massaged your shoulders and neck intently. You could still feel the burn and sometimes when he pressed a little to hard on a specially sore spot you would yelp and try to get away from him, but he was fast to apologizes and land a kiss on the side of your neck.

You two spent fifteen minutes in that comfortable silence, until he perked up and and halted his movements

“I know what to do… Hold on a minute.” He shuffled behind you and leaped out of the bed, walking away into the bathroom without any explanation.

You just sat there, waiting, and wondering if he had some kind of lotion or cream to help you. You couldn’t recall ever seeing one in the shelves, but he often bought things and forget about them hours later.

The sound of running water rushed out and drowned the silence. You counted on your head, one minute, two, three… Still no signs of Megumi coming back to bed.

“Megumi?” Your answer came in the form of footsteps. Coming out of the room, he smiled at you as he approached. “What are you doing…?”

“Come here…” He said, not answering your question and scooping you up in his arms. On instinct your legs circled his waist while he supported your weight with his hands underneath your thighs.

“Megumi!” You laughed, surprised, clinging to his shoulders while he walked you two back into the steamed filled bathroom. The scent of flowers was what hit you first, closely followed by the sight of a filled tub with bubbles. “What?… Did you do this?” You asked in wonder, feeling cupid just shot another dozen arrows into your already pierced heart.

“Of course… You’re not feeling well, and a warm bath is a wonderful solution.” Pride shone in his eyes. He lowered you on the edge and took a step back. “Get in, and I’ll be right back.” He moved towards the door but hesitated before exiting the room. “Can you take off your clothes? Because I wouldn’t mind helping you out with that…”

“Oh god…” Embarrassment hit you like a wave and you covered your heated face with your hands. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. “

“Just looking out for my girl.” the dimple appeared again, and you almost wanted to crawl under the water to hide from the embarrassment. Even after all this time, he still earned a reaction from you.

“I’m sure you do.”

His laugh lingered in the air as he exited, and with shaky fingers you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them off. The muscles on your back pulled as your pulled the hem of your shirt over your head, but you endured it. The sweet call of the warm water had you stripped down and inside the tub in no time.

Bubbles covered your chest as the heat from the water seeped into your body, the water brushed your chin as you just felt all the exhaustion from the day drain out of your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you lounged in the water like a tea bag without a care in the world.

“Comfortable?” Looking up, he was next to you once again.

“Very...”

He tapped something on his phone, and a soft guitar strummed. He placed it on the mirror shelf before grabbing the elastic of his pants. Noticing he was actually pulling them down, you turned away, covering your eyes.

“What are you doing!?” You asked, startled.

“Well... You seriously don’t expect me to get in with my pants on, do you?” He said matter-of-factly. And a shiver raced down your arms, while a heated wave pooled at the pit of your stomach.

“Are you getting in? You just showered! ” You stole a glance at him, forcing your gaze to stay on his face.

“Yes, but then you weren’t sitting in the bathroom with this much skin exposed... are you really embarrassed?” Laughing kicked the garment off. “You just watched me change a few minutes ago.”

“Shut up, Megumi.” You whined, fighting the urge to let your eyes roam.

“Come on, scoot over.” He laughed. “ I’m worried your might combust from embarrassment.”

Sighing, you moved forwards on the tub, letting enough space for him to sit behind you. The water rippled around you before you felt his soft skin brushing your bare back. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you, love...” You whispered, bringing your joined hands to your mouth and kissing his knuckles. Scars from past battles scattered the surface but you could only a testimony of his strength.

“Of course.” He squeezed you against his chest for a few heartbeats before asking. “Do you mid if I wash your hair?”

A heat that had nothing to do with the water temperature and all with the rumble of his words crept from your toes to your neck.

“I think I’d like that.”

Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, he dropped some of it on his palm and then he started robbing your scalp in lazy circles, his nails gently scraping it. You could feel his head swinging to the beat of the song sounding in the bathroom, before his voiced joined in.

Lyrics about love and happiness tumbled out of his mouth with a subtle rasp to them. And suddenly you were back to thinking about your dream, the one with beaches and warmth. Maybe a vacation wouldn’t hurt... You considered bringing it up, but the atmosphere was too serene to disrupt it with questions about his schedule. If you asked, it meant he had to stop singing in order to answer you, and that was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

Surely it was the warm water and his fingers, but sitting there listening to his voice and feeling his breath brushing your face, you concluded that Megumi’s mere presence was all you needed to feel better.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi #fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #fluff #my fic #megumi-stan

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

lip sync your way into my heart

( @thecomfortofoldstorries and I got into a fun head-cannon debate last night about Tik Tok POVs and this is what happened)

--- Jaskier has never really been in the loop when it comes to social media. He was behind the curve when he made his Tumblr and he was two years late to sign up for Twitter. It’s no surprise that he finally downloads Tik Tok and makes an account several months after it’s become a viral platform.

That also means all the good usernames are taken; Jaskier types in @buttercup-bard, sees that it’s available, and calls it a day. This isn’t an app he’s going to care about. It’s just to waste time during his forty minute commute to and from campus.

Alas, he has ADHD...and this shit is addictive.

Especially, he hates to admit, the thirst-trap hotties who do weird, obscure, edgy POV videos. Jaskier knows they’re aimed primarily towards teen and young adult women but he’s a red-blooded Redanian gay. He’s horny. He can watch a few POV Tik Toks on the bus and thirst after pretty boys with big muscles...as a treat.

By Jaskier’s second week of classes he’s found a definite favorite Tik-Tokker (is that what they’re called? Or is it influencer? Jaskier doesn’t care). The guy is gorgeous. He has beautiful honey-gold eyes and long, silvery-white hair; which is appropriate since his handle is @whitehairdontcare. He makes a wide range of content, too. Perfect for Jaskier’s Concerta-focused tastes. There are some dances here and there and some Q&A videos, but for the most part he does POVs.

Jask and his roommates, Essi and Priscilla, have spent many happy hours poring over Mr. White Hair’s account, watching and re-watching their favorites from his vast repertoire of content. Essi loves his weird, edgy-boi shit. Stuff with titles like “POV: I fight the bully who insulted your haircut” or “POV: you make a deal with the devil for true love”. Stuff that Jaskier would have been into when he still listened to My Chemical Romance on the regular (okay, he still does, but don’t tell Essie).

Priscilla is a huge fan of Tik Tok dances. She follows every challenge and ranks her favorites, compiling them into a YouTube series that’s more for her self-gratification than anything else. Mr. White Hair is generally towards the top of her list whenever he deigns to follow a trend that doesn’t involve badly applied makeup blood smears. The guy clearly works out and the definition of his body (and the movements of said really hot body) make the dances look so much more fluid and fun. Jaskier and Priscilla clearly share a brain-cell when it comes to appreciating Mr. White Hair’s hotness.

Jaskier’s favorites, of course, are the cute little POVs that lie scattered between all the edgy ones. Stuff made for the softies of Tik Tok. Stuff made for boys like Jaskier. “POV: I fix your car for you” is the one he’s probably re-watched the most. Mr. White Hair is lying on his back beneath a jacked-up blue car, oil smeared in a few strategic places on his face, chest, and arms. At the very end of the Tik Tok he moves the wrench out of the way of his face completely and winks directly into the camera.

Jaskier hates to admit it, even to himself, but no matter how many times he’s watched that stupid twenty-give second video, that wink drops his heart straight down into his shoes and fills his stomach with butterflies.

---

“Hey do you guys carry fake blood here?” an almost terrifyingly deep voice asks from behind him. Jaskier twirls around on his heel, Retail Smile firmly in place, and loses his shit the moment he sets eyes on his latest customer.

It’s Mr. White Hair.

Here. In the middle of the aisle of the Party City where Jaskier works every weekend. He’s either going to throw up or pass out or both.

He doesn’t though. Instead, the Demon Lord of Retail possesses his body momentarily and nods, “Right over this way!” He leads the insanely attractive influencer over to the year-round section of Halloween FX makeup and gestures towards the shelf filled with various fake blood capsules, bottles, and packets.

“Thanks,” Mr. White hair smiles. Jaskier nods again, silent, and drifts back towards the counter in a daze. He’s the only one on shift right now (it is not a very busy Party City) and he knows that he can’t pass out on the dirty tile floor or he’ll get fired (and perhaps tetanus). He just needs to power through the next few minutes and then he can crouch next to the helium tank and freak the fuck out.

But not until Mr. White Hair is gone.

Just as Jaskier is re-learning how to breathe normally, the sexy internet star makes his way towards the counter with an armful of products and the retail worker loses it again. Thank god for the ability to compartmentalize.

“So, just these for you?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem! I love your Tik Toks by the way,” Jaskier replies automatically. His eyes widen slightly. Why the fuck did I mention his Tik Toks!?

“Thanks,” the guy says and blushes. “I didn’t know they’d gotten so popular.”

“You have like two million followers?” Jaskier laughs. “I think that makes you pretty popular. Maybe even famous.”

“Oh yeah...right.”

“Anyway, your total is going to be twenty-one fifty.”

Mr. White Hair pays and Jaskier bags all his fake blood, wondering the whole time exactly what kind of content he can look forward to seeing. More of Essi’s edgy shit, apparently. As he’s handing the plastic bag over the counter, Jaskier smiles and works up the courage to ask, “Is your hair naturally white? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just really pretty.”

Geralt’s face goes slightly pinker than before and he nods. “Yeah. Weird genetic thing. Thanks.”

“No problem. Right on,” Jaskier beams. “Well, it was nice meeting a famous person. Thanks for stopping in.”

“Thanks for helping me out,” the Tik Tokker replies. Jaskier watches him exit the store before ripping his phone from his pocket and dialing Essi. He needs to talk to her before he spirals into a giddy panic attack.

---

“Hey Jask have you seen that hot guy’s latest Tik Tok?” Priscilla asks, lounging across her futon like a queen. Jaskier looks up from his copy of The Collective History of Aedirnian Funeral Dirges and wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

“No, why?”

“You should go check your phone. I think you’ll be happily surprised.”

“Oh-kay,” Jaskier says, drawing out the ‘kay’ for as long as it takes him to get up from his seat on the floor and exit the room. He retrieves his phone from the charger in the kitchen and returns to Priscilla’s bedside. He opens his new favorite app and pulls up @whitehairdontcare’s page. There’s a new POV from earlier this morning and Jaskier taps on it.

His eyes go round when he reads the caption: “POV: You’re the cute cashier at the Party City and I’m bad at flirting”.

Mr. White Hair is staring into the camera with those beautifully golden eyes, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand while he lip syncs to whatever song is playing. He’s wearing a tight, navy blue v-neck and Jaskier can see the movement of every one of his ridiculously defined muscles as they flex. The silver wolf’s-head necklace Mr. White Hair always wears around his neck is in its usual place, dangling down between those perfect collarbones…

Jaskier takes a shaky breath and glances up at his friends, who are staring back at him with wide eyes. “It could be about anyone.”

“How many Party Cities do you think he went to yesterday?”

“I’m not going to get my hopes up,” Jaskier snorts. “He’s a social media influencer and I am one semester away from finishing my degree and my thesis. Why would he ever want to be with someone like me?”

Essi rolls her eyes and Jaskier goes back to his homework.

---

Later that night, alone in his room, Jaskier plugs his earbuds into his phone and watches the Tik Tok over and over. He finds the song Geralt used and adds it to his Work Is Tough playlist, which he’s allowed to play over the loudspeakers at the store so long as he’s working a solo shift.

He watches Mr. White Hair’s plush pink lips move around the words and dreams of kissing them someday, as far-fetched as that scenario is (because this video is definitely not for him, that’s impossible):

“My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kill me, so I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury,

or wear as jewelry; whichever you prefer.”

Fucking Dashboard Confessional. Of course. One of Jaskier’s favorite bands from his emo days in middle school. If this really was for Jaskier, if this really was a legitimate attempt at online flirtation by Mr. White Hair himself, it was working.

Jaskier buries his head in his pillow and sighs.

#geraskier fic #geraskier tik tok au #there will be a part 2 i promise #geraskier fanfic #geraskier #geraskier au #all I do is make aus all day and work retail #geraskier fluff #flirty geralt #influencer geralt #party city employee jaskier #college student jaskier #geraskier college au #geraskier alternate universe #oops I keep making cute shit

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen #strangers to lovers

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