#as if i owe them the slightest ounce of attention in my day

[clubpenguist]

friendly reminder that even if youre open about something on your blog, even if you think its so obviously right in your about/description/pinned/whatever, most of the people who will interact with you are not even looking that far at your blog. they dont know your name or your pronouns or your disabilities or your interests or your credentials or whatever you think is just *so obvious* that they *must* be intentionally ignoring it just to hurt you. ESPECIALLY not if theyre a random stranger who youve never interacted with once before, has never interacted with you once before either, and has absolutely zero reason to care about you. its not a personal attack, its just a fact. this is literally the internet

[xautunno]

King & Queen - Chapter 25

Commission - Part Two

--

“You vixen,” Munto slammed the bedroom doors shut behind him, the uncontrollable grin undermining any attempt to be stern. 

Yumemi glanced over her shoulder to smirk his way. Her stride carried her to the vanity, untroubled by the predator behind her. She removed her earrings, placing the delicate flowers into their proper place. Her necklace and bracelets followed suit. The only jewel remaining sat on her left ring finger. 

Munto leaned against the bedroom post in absolute disbelief at her subtle dismissal. His queen, his dreamer, and his current vixen dismissed his raging boner with a smirk. The damn woman! 

She took her time removing the pins in her hair, fluffing it out with her fingers. He received peeks at her neck, beautifully bare and in such need of some love.  

Any mock ire fled as a new thought emerged. A delicious thought that sat wonderfully on his tongue with the memory of her beneath him. He could still taste the coitus from several days ago that left her hoarse and shaking in the aftermath. She’d been rather demanding of his attention that day and he wondered if it was because she knew her gift would arrive soon. That she knew how much he would appreciate the commission and the desire it would stir in him. 

“Vixen,” Munto murmured as he approached her from behind. Soft and pleased, he ran his fingers through her hair, splitting it evenly to cascade over her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head. 

“Was it a nice gift?” Yumemi’s voice hardly wavered but her husband knew her too well. The slightest wobbly ‘c’ in the word nice caught his ear that would pass others by. 

Gently, Munto lifted her chin so that she titled back into his line of sight. He couldn’t help his indulgent smile at seeing her so calm, so unnerved, hiding doubt in the center of her eyes. Her throat bobbed as his silence kept on. 

“Far more than I could ever deserve.” Munto bestowed the lightest kiss to her nose. “You are far more than I deserve.”

“I heartedly doubt that.” His words sparked a glow in her and she reciprocated his adoration with the sweetest smile he’d garnered in her affections. 

“Believe me, my dreamer, I would never be the man I am today without your tender heart.” Munto kissed her forehead, squeezing every ounce of love he could manage into the display. “My people and I owe you a greater debt that could never be repaid.” 

Yumemi held back a snort at his dramatics. She could feel the smile that stretched across her forehead. Of course, he teased. But, beneath his words existed a sober note. One of truth and vulnerability. As ever when he spoke in such a way, she knew he did his best to hide sincerity with mischief. Years into their marriage and he still sought to hide from her. Lessons from boyhood left him guarded even as a man. 

Such thoughts often left bitter notes in her mouth but in light of the day, Yumemi tucked such grievances away. She could accept both the tease and the trust in a single step. 

“Your words warm me greatly, my lord,” by returning the tease, she felt him release a breath from his lungs. So small, it would hardly be categorized as a sigh. Yumemi, though, had other plans for the rest of their afternoon and she fully intended to keep them on track. “But, I do believe there are better ways to warm me.” 

Munto leaned back only a hair’s width. Enough to catch her eye. To search for absolute approval before he swept her off her chair and away to the bed. 

“I could not agree more. Shall we start with the appetizer? Or would you prefer to get straight to dessert?” Wicked and hungry, Munto let her fall to the soft mattress and tugged his shirt over his head. “I must say, the appetizer is a delight this time of day but I understand if your sweet tooth is aching.”

Yumemi laughed at his mischief, bunching up her skirts and spreading her legs wide. 

“I don’t care what it is as long as it lasts until morning,” she bit her lip as Munto tossed his pants aside, any further teasing wilting under his desire. 

Hoarse and straining against his briefs, he whispered, “deal.” 

--

Happy White Day!

Sorry, this is a bit rushed but I at least got it out :D

Also, yes, Yumemi ends up with quite the necklace by morning *wink wink*

[starshipsofstarlord]

Conference Room

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky gets a surprise when he realises that things that were looked down upon, and people were often disgusted by in his day and age, are wanted in this one.

Warnings | includes smut, blowjob, cum facial, Bucky being an insecure bb, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Everyone filed out of the meeting room, one by one disappearing into the maze of the compound. Bucky watched you with tender eyes, slowly following behind, as you headed for the door.

But instead of passing though the threshold, so that you could make your way on route to the kitchen, in order for you prepare yourself a well deserved drink after sitting through the small conference, you closed the door, and pushed down the latch.

The action itself made Bucky stop in his footsteps, and fix you with a confused expression. He wasn’t sure why you had locked the two of you in here. Only moments ago you had been on a group call with Fury, and now that he had signed off, all of you had been free to leave.

But that freedom that all the else had fled feebly towards, served a much different price to that for which you specifically had in mind for him. “Sergeant Barnes, I think the two of us need to have a little talk; our ears only.”

Bucky gulped, remaining upon the spot that he was stood in. He racked his mind for reasons that you would want to do this here, and not in one of your bedrooms. It would only make things more difficult for when he left the scene, heartbroken by you cutting him off, and finally pushing him away.

It was inevitable that it would happen somewhen; but it was too early. Things were finally running smoothly, he felt content and happy, and as though he were making a good difference to the world, which is all he ever wanted. However, it appeared that all of that was about to come tumbling down at his feet, in the same very moment.

The two of you hadn’t been dating too long, just short of three months. And during that time, the pair of you had never once gotten obscenely intimate. So in your case, as he viewed it, you really had nothing to lose. But he couldn’t pin point as to why you were dressed in a sly smile, and creeping ever so steadily towards him as though you had a surprise.

“Doll.” He spoke softly, thinking that it would be the last time he had the opportunity to describe you with that pet name. From the way that he addressed you, your expression quickly became more innocent and happy.

As you got closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss upon his material covered chest. “Baby.” You greeted him, moving to his lips next, and pressing a fluid peck upon them.

“What are you doing?” He unsurely asked, his voice cracking in the meanwhile, and his face scrunching up into a confused frown. Your hands rubbed down his chest, and plucked the band of his trousers, over again in a repeated motion.

Sucking your lip into your mouth, you looked up into his sky blue eyes, reading them for any signs of him being affected by your actions. Rather than feeling aroused, it seemed to make him confused, which was not at all your intention.

“You seemed tense Buck.” Your hands raked their way back up to his shoulders, soothing any apparent tightness that were held within his muscles. “I thought maybe... I could help loosen you up.” Fluttering your eyelashes at him, Bucky lightly groaned, rubbing his lips together as he mulled over what the pair of you could possibly get up to in this room.

His hands went down to the button of your jeans, but lightly, you slapped his hands away, doing the same to him, and undoing them. As your fingers toyed with the zip that helped the denim be adjustable to his size, your other palmed him through the blue material. “This is about you James. I want to make you feel good.”

Again, he swallowed his own saliva, he paid the utmost attention to your every movement, completely compelled with how you tossed your hair to the side by simply moving your head. “You want me to suck your cock, I promise I’m good at it.” A giggle erupted from your mouth, and Bucky clasped your chin in the feather light grip of his vibranium hand.

He pulled your lips to his, warming them up before slipping his tongue inside. It had been a long time, though he hated to admit it, since he had done anything even slightly sexual, and a part of him was afraid that he wouldn’t last long.

But the other was excited, back in the forties , blowjobs weren’t often digressed. The idea had always appealed to hun, however no dame had ever wished to dirty their knees before him, and take his sufficient length down their throat. It pained him a little, knowing that like most people he had encountered through his life, that they would take from him, but never return it with an ounce of kindness.

He’d perceive it as a dream come true, the woman that owned his entire heart, independently wanting to pleasure him in such ways that were looked down upon in his day. “Are you sure?” He pulled away, desperate for some clarity on the matter.

“Yes, of course I am.” You smiled, drawing him in for another locked lip session. After a minute or two of tasting his tongue, you trailed your direction down, running down his chin, and then his neck, until you completely dropped to your knees, rutting your hand against his growing cock.

Right then, from that image alone, Bucky swore that he would die. That innocent expression that was entailed upon your face had him mentally cursing, and he couldn’t help but groan to himself in a relaxed manner as you pulled his jeans down to his ankles, leaving only his boxers as the final barrier.

Lightly, you pressed a kiss to where you guessed his tip to be through the cotton, gently running your tongue down the shaft, and lower down to where his balls were stationed. “Y/n, please stop teasing.”

“Tell me Bucky.” Your fingertips cascaded up and down his v line, warming him up to what was to come(pun intended). “Have you ever been sucked off before?” His heart rate picked up, as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“How did you- that punk!” He said in reference to Steve, realising that he must have let the detail slip to you. But he couldn’t be made really, if the captain hadn’t digressed his secret to you, then he may have waited longer to experience the enthralling and dirty, as it had been known to be, engagement.

Without any pressure, you pressed your teeth upon his cock, dragging his attention back towards you. “Now that is no way to talk about your dear friend, I’d say he did you a favour.” He was getting ready to grumble in his Bucky manner, but was hit with your gasp as you suddenly pulled his boxers down, his dick slapping upwards, having your entire focus.

Reaching forward with a hand, you wrapped it around the mid section of his shaft, your palm hardly fitting around his girth. “It’s so big.” You gaped at the sight, moving your hand up and down to gouge a reaction out of the super soldier above you. His head leant back, his eyes screwing shut as he realised just how sensitive he was. He felt like a virgin all over again.

An obscene and loud moan was pulled from his mouth as you ran your tongue up his shaft, humming at the taste of his intimate skin. With the encouragement of his lie noises, you directed his tip towards your lips, rubbing it upon the cushioned flesh, before sinking him halfway in your mouth.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed, reaching down and on instinct entangling his metal hand in your loose hair. As though you were doing nothing, you innocently looked up at him with wide doe eyes., although he could feel you hollowing your cheeks around him, as you began to bob your head.

Only then did he realise how experienced you must have been within this department, for he noticed how you didn’t struggle nor gag the slightest around him, and it appeared that you were enjoying it as much as he was.

One of your hands planted itself on the thickness of his thigh as your other found homage with fondling his balls. His chest rapidly moved as he felt every slither of your tongue around him, and as you pulled slightly back, you began dipping it in the line of his slit.

“Baby, slow down, or I’m going to cum.” With his words heard, you took him out of your mouth, wrapping your hand around his saliva soaked rod, and began pumping him rapidly. For a moment, he swore his head was going to explode as he saw you stick your tongue out, awaiting his load that was soon to be delicious.

“Cum Buck. Want you to cum for me.” It was impossible for him to hold back any longer, and thus, his seed flew over the expanse of your tongue, whilst the rest spurted over one side of your face. “Hmm.” You mumbled, swallowing that of it that you caught, and scooping a swipe into your mouth.

“I swear to god that I’m in love with you.” He spoke breathily as you stood up, both of your faces flushed from the activity. He pulled you in for a few pecks, to which you could do nothing more than stare into his oceanic pools.

“Well that’s encouraging.” You laughed, reaching down and tucking his softening cock back into his boxers and jeans, giving it a loving pat before pulling away. “I love you too Bucky Barnes; always.”

“The conference room though, really?” He asked with a bemused laugh, causing you to shrug. “You’ve got to walk out of here now.” He said, motioning to the mess on your face.

“That is something that I didn’t think of.” You responded, your eyes darting a around the room, until your eyes landed on the box of tissues that Tony had brought in at the start of the meeting. Thank Thor for his cold! “Grab me some paper towels from the corner would you babe?”

He sent you a pleased, and you’d say very satisfied smile, before stepping back, and heading in the direction of the desk, picking a few sheets out of the cube, and walking back to help you clean up. He felt like he at least owed you that much.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Fire on Fire (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! This one was inspired by Sam Smith’s “Fire on Fire”. Once again, post- Age of Ultron and pre-Civil War. Hope you like it! :)

Warnings: None, just fluff featuring Cap and Clint being protective and supportive. 

“Maybe it's 'cause I got a little bit older, maybe it's all that I've been through. I'd like to think it's how you lean on my shoulder and how I see myself with you.”

Wanda took a seat on the mat of the training area and took a sip of water as her mind wandered to you (as it often did). It had been several months since you and Wanda had officially been together and to say it was going well would be an understatement. You two fit together like pieces of a puzzle and the rate at which she fell for you absolutely stunned her. She hadn’t felt this much love in her heart since she lost Pietro. She didn’t think she ever could again… until you. 

Never in her life had she felt something this intense – she never thought she was capable of feelings this intense. In her past she knew there was very little opportunity for love, but even if there was, she couldn’t imagine replicating this. Wanda knew you were special. What she found with you was special.

Those three little words had been on the tip of her tongue so many times, yet she could never find the courage to utter them to you. The remnants of the fear of losing those she loved still weighed heavily on her. It was something she was working on. Despite her fear of uttering those three words, there was no doubt in her mind that she was completely and hopelessly in love with you. 

The sound of a throat clearing startled her out of her thoughts as she snapped her head up to meet the eyes of Steve who was smiling down at her amicably. “Wanda,” he began, “I was hoping we could have a word.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be running training?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

Steve chuckled and gestured to the empty room which Wanda hadn’t noticed until that moment. “We just finished up a few minutes ago. How’s about that word?”

Wanda spun a single ring she wore on her finger nervously as she nodded. “Sure, Steve.” She had a feeling she knew where this was going. Steve was very protective of you and she was well aware of that, so it was only a matter of time before this talk happened. 

Steve offered his hand out to help her up which she easily accepted. “Let’s take a walk.” The walk was wordless until they left the compound which didn’t help Wanda’s nerves in the slightest. “You have nothing to be worried about, Wanda.”

“How did you- “

A boisterous laugh escaped his lips, “You look like I’m about to murder you any second now.” 

Wanda merely shrugged and nodded with a small smile, “Fair enough.”

Steve’s expression became serious once again as he regarded Wanda, “I’m just going to cut to the chase. I think you’re a good kid. You’ve been through situations that would have left even the strongest soldiers on their knees and came out stronger than before. I respect that.” 

She sensed there was a ‘but’ in his speech and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what it was.

With a flat expression he continued, “I know you’re dating Y/n, and I’m sure you know my history with her. I don’t know if it’s because of how I found her, but I’m very protective of her, Wanda.” 

Her gaze fell to the floor at his words as she nodded understandingly. “You don’t think that I’m good for her.” She whispered and refused to allow herself to look up at him and see the pity on his face.

Immediately Steve stopped in his tracks and placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her as well, “What? Wanda, no,” he rushed out, a bewildered expression on his face, “that’s not what I’m saying at all. That’s actually the opposite of where I was going with that.”

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows and finally looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. “It is?” 

With a nod Steve continued, “It is. In fact, I think that you two are perfect for each other. It’s clear that you bring out the best in one another and have helped each other heal. I just –“ he rubbed the back of his neck, “Be gentle with Y/n. I know you understand what she’s been through more than anyone, but it’s still a lot and I worry about her.” 

“I will be, she’s helped me more than you know.” she replied quietly. 

A thoughtful look overcame his features, “It’s been nice seeing her so happy. Seeing you both happy. Seeing her happy is something I never thought I’d see when we first met. You’re a big part of that. Just take care of her, okay?”

Wanda nodded seriously, “I promise I’ll take care of her, Steve. I-I… I love her. I want to do everything in my power to keep her happy too.”

“You love her?” Steve questioned happily with an excited smile.

Bashfully, Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled back at him. “I do. I just haven’t told her yet.”

Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulder and spun her back in the direction they came from. “In that case, let’s get you back to your girl then.” They walked a few paces when Steve spoke again, “She loves you too, you know?”

“You think so?” she questioned insecurely. 

With a steady and sure voice, Steve replied, “I know so.” 

Back at the compound, you were looking for your girlfriend, a bit confused as to where she could have gone after training. You wandered into the kitchen with no luck as the only person there was Clint who was seemingly reading the newspaper at the kitchen counter. “Clint?” you called out.

He hummed but didn’t look up from his reading.

“Have you seen Wanda? I’ve been looking all over for her.” You took a seat next to him and rested your head on your folded arms petulantly. 

Clint chuckled as you watched him fold his newspaper and turn his attention to you, “Don’t pout, kid. I think she just went on a walk with Cap.”

Your head perked up curiously, “Really? Do you know why?”

Again, Clint chuckled. “I think you know why, kiddo.” You swatted his arm when he smirked.

With a groan you buried your head in your arms, “Damn Rogers and his outdated ideas of dating.”

From where you were seated you could hear Clint clear his throat which made you lift your head and eye him wearily. “That reminds me. I was hoping we could have a chat too.”

Skeptically, you nodded, “This feels like a set-up.” You mumbled.

Clint pressed on with an indifferent shrug, “It kind of was. I wanted to talk to you about Wanda.”

You stared at him in silence for a few moments, “… I’m getting the talk, aren’t I?”

“You sure are. Now, shut up so I can get through this.” You mimed zipping your lips which caused him to roll his eyes and try to fight back a smile. “I owe a lot to Wanda. Her brother gave his life for my own. I see her as a daughter of sorts now. I always wished I could do more to ease her sadness, but then you came and did what none of us were able to. You made her smile. I appreciated that so much.”

A small smile to him was your only response as you sensed he wasn’t done quite yet.

He placed a firm hand on your arm, “I have no threats for you in this talk. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you found happiness with one another. Don’t lose that. Not that you need it, or probably care, but you have my approval.”

With misty eyes you hugged Clint, “Of course I care. Thank you, Clint.”

You felt him hug you back. “Don’t hurt her, okay?”

Pulling back from the hug you firmly nodded. “I would never intentionally hurt her. She means everything to me.”

“Sounds like love to me,” Clint teased playfully.

The room went quiet for a moment before you spoke, “I can’t see my life with anyone else by my side.” 

Clint knowingly pat your shoulder, “So, it really is love.”

“It is. I love Wanda.”

“Y/n?” 

With wide eyes you turned to the direction the voice came from quickly. “Wanda!” you exclaimed as you noticed her enter the space with Steve who was smiling proudly at you.

With a clap of his hands, Clint stood up and walked over to Steve, “Looks like that’s our cue, Cap. Y/n, Wanda.” He rushed out as he exited the kitchen, followed by Steve who merely winked and saluted you before following Clint out.

When you turned your attention back to Wanda, you found her watching you with a soft expression on her face. “How much of that did you hear?” you asked as you wrung your hands nervously.

Wordlessly she stepped forward and took hold of your hands. Her expression now nervous. “I heard… enough…” She trailed off as she ran her thumb over the back of your hand passively, “I love you, Y/n.” she breathed out.

You stared at her for a moment, just reveling in her words and searching her eyes, finding nothing but love. Without hesitation you surged forward and connected your lips, hoping to pour every ounce of love you felt in your soul for her into the kiss. You only broke apart when the smiles on both of your faces made it too difficult to continue. “I love you, so much. You are my only direction, Wanda.” You whispered. 

With your words, every single fear Wanda previously felt vanished and all that remained was the love she felt for you. 

She leaned her forehead on yours, a loving smile on her face. “And you are mine, moya lyubov. You are perfection to me. You saved me.” Happiness blossomed in your chest as Wanda connected your lips in another passionate kiss. 

Hello again, here’s part 3! For the next part should I take the angst route or would you all prefer some more fluff? Let me know. As always hope you enjoyed!

(For reference part 1 is “Latch”, part 2 is “One Day at a Time”)

[sombreboy]

Mused obsession (4)

Written by @sombreboy​​​ as Jungkook & @chimoona​​​​​ as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog​​​​​

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 9k ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, jealous jk, tattooing, light descriptions of blood/pain, exhibitionist jk oh boy, graphic desc. of piercing jk's cock (I'm no piercer so don't take this literally it's fiction, infections don't exist in this world pls be sanitary.), more intense sexual tension because why not, jk is a total sadomasochist and this you need to remember forever for every damn chapter. xo

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

The next morning Jungkook’s alarm went off early, and he groaned out curses. For once, he didn’t want to wake up. The quality of sleep he’d gotten was a rarity in his life, all thanks to the man laying next to him. Jungkook turns the alarm off before clinging to Jimin, pressing soft kisses on the crook of his neck, wishing he could stay in bed forever.

It isn’t the alarm that rouses Jimin but the motion of Jungkook behind him. Gentle kisses tickle his neck and strong arms hold him close—a kind comforting touch he hasn’t felt since his ex. He turns to face the man, pressing his parted mouth to his, still groggy with sleep. “Good morning,” he coos, brushing his plump lips down Jungkook’s flushed neck before resting in the indent of his collar.  He slept well enough, but the unfamiliar setting caused him to wake a couple times throughout the night. Even then, Jungkook’s warmth and protective hold coaxed him back to sleep. “What day is it?” He wonders out loud, not ready to sit up and check for himself. The mixture of liquor from the night before doesn’t help his focus in the slightest, feeling slightly hungover and lethargic. “Have you seen my phone?” He dreads the many messages he probably has from his manager, or even Tae.

Jungkook hums, ignoring every single question being thrown at him. He just wants to hold Jimin forever. But eventually, he reaches over to the nightstand where he’s placed the elder’s phone and hands it over, then cuddles up close to get a look at the screen as well. He’s extremely curious after all—does anybody miss Jimin? How easy would it possibly be to just...keep him?

No, that’s too early. Things take time.

“I don’t know, but there’s breakfast ready whenever you’re hungry...” Jungkook murmurs with a raspy morning voice.

“Mm, sounds good…” Just as Jimin suspected, ten messages and four phone calls. Most are from his manager, a couple from Taehyung apologizing, and one from… interesting. Jimin flicks off the covers from his side of the bed and wriggles out of Jungkook’s arms, regrettably.  “Breakfast sounds great,” he picks his robe from the floor and wraps it around himself in a hurry, “I just need to make a few phone calls.” He leans onto the bed and gives the younger a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll make it quick, promise.”

Before Jungkook has a chance to reply, Jimin steps out onto the attached balcony and closes the door behind him. First thing’s first, he definitely needs to let his manager know he’s not dead in a ditch. However, more importantly, he’s dying to know why his ex messaged him out of the blue after so many months of silence. He’s a vague man. The only thing his text said was “Proud.”

Jungkook’s lip twitches as he watches the blonde close the balcony door in a hurry. What is so important? He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit curious...and frustrated. He doesn’t like secrets, even if Jimin doesn’t owe him anything... technically . Jungkook wants to know, and he will, eventually. The photographer lays low, gets out of bed to puts on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. He grabs his own phone and sits back down, scrolling through social media... Jimin’s show was a hit, trending, both photos and praise, on the news. Of course, there were the photos of Jungkook, smiling as he was enjoying the show—which also drew a whole lot more attention towards the blonde, as if making Jeon Jungkook smile was an achievement. Jungkook scoffs, but nonetheless happy about the many pictures available of Jimin, saving several to his phone as he continuously glances over at the balcony.

Who is he calling… Kook cranes his neck to try and decipher Jimin’s facial expressions, but can’t quite make it out...

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. No, Jeon didn’t kidnap me and hide me in his basement. No—GOD, what kind of man do you think I am? Yeah…yeah…okay, thanks for covering. It went really well? Trending? Goood…okay, yeah, thanks for calling. Sorry to worry you…bye.” Jimin checks in with his manager. They’re annoying as hell but they mean well. He shoots Tae a quick text, telling him to sleep it off.  Then Jimin flicks through his contact list until his thumb hovers over the one name he didn’t think he’d ever call again—Seung-Ho.  The man started as a lifestyle influencer, wearing Lululemon shorts at Machu Picchu or casually eating the latest novelty hipster food with a bright smile on his face. Now he’s the brand ambassador and face of Jimin’s biggest competitor.

“Jimin, baby…,” he coos over the receiver. “I’m so proud…”

Inside, Jungkook grows restless, bouncing his leg with clasped hands as he stares at Jimin through the glass door. Who is he talking to? Why is it taking so damn long? Why did he hover over the screen for several seconds before pressing the call button? He didn’t want to wait any longer—who is more important than Jungkook? Normally, the younger is extremely patient in every other aspect of his life, but when it comes to Jimin giving somebody else his attention, it runs out quick. He gets up to saunter over to the balcony door, carefully sliding it open to eavesdrop.

“Seung-ie—“ Jimin catches himself, “Seung-Ho.” He rolls his face in his palm. It’s too early in the morning to have this conversation with the ghost of his past. Regardless, he’s very curious to know why he reached out after all this time. “Why did you text me? To say you’re proud?” He can’t help but smile a little when the man on the other line praises his clothing collection. Apparently Seung was in the audience the whole time, absolutely loved Jimin’s little speech, and even took note of how well the model looked on stage under all the glowing lights. He laughs, recalling the last time he took Jimin out on a date—how he spilled slushie all over his pure white button up and they had to make an emergency stop at Neiman Marcus for a spare.

“I miss you, Mochi,” he says lowly from the other side, deep and seductive. “When can I see you again?”

Seung-ie?… Seung-Ho. Why does the name sound familiar?  Jungkook rolls his tongue against the fleshy inside of his cheek, listening for merely a minute before he decides it’s enough. He announces his presence by snaking his arms around Jimin’s waist, placing his chin in the crook of the elders neck, placing soft kisses against it.

Mine…

Kook leans in to whisper into Jimin’s ear, “I’m hungry…”

It distracts Jimin’s train of thought to have Jungkook kissing his sensitive neck. One ounce of attention from the man and he is absolute putty.

“Who was that?” Jimin hears Seung-Ho chime from the other end.

“I’ve got to go, but thank you for coming to the show,” Jimin replies, wrapping up the call. He presses the end button and turns in Jungkook’s arms to face him. He looks annoyed to say the least, but he doesn’t blame him, he would be too. “Just a stupid ex,” Jimin whispers before melding his lips to the other man’s. “Let’s eat…”

 Jungkook grasps and guides Jimin’s chin between his long, tattooed fingers to face him. “Why’d they call you?” He’s no longer subtle with his concern, the mere mention of an ex causes his eyebrows to furrow. “They bothering you?” He continues, his fingers tightening ever slightly around the blondes chin, his face so close that their lips graze together with every word spoken. His other hand remains wrapped around Jimin’s waist, keeping their bodies tightly pressed together, as if the elder would disappear if he didn’t hold him.

Jimin rolls his eyes and tries to shake off the goosebumps still prickling from Seung-Ho’s compliments. “He’s probably bored,” he covers, still not entirely sure why the man reached out. He said he was proud, but why should Jimin care what he thinks? As Jungkook’s hold tightens, Jimin feels the need to be honest, as if the truth is being squeezed from him. “He liked the show. Wants to see me again, but...,” he squeezes Jungkook back, “I’m far too busy.”

“Too bad for him.” Jungkook mutters, a small smile tugging at his lips as he feels Jimin’s reassuring squeeze. He feels his stomach rumble, looping his fingers between Jimin’s as he pulls the elder with him inside towards the dining hall.  If the blonde isn’t already constantly reminded by the wealth the young photographer possesses, this would be one of many reminders. A large table filled with all kinds of breakfast delicacies greet them, way too much for one, two or even three people. This might as well be a buffet for a party. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so...I got everything.” Kook shrugs, as if this isn’t his everyday life anyway, zeroing his eyes in on the fridge filled with his favorite beverage.

Jimin never has to leave. Every little thing that could possibly accommodate his needs is right here in the photographer’s house. “There’s so much to choose from...” Jimin’s hunger increases the longer he looks. He doesn’t even feed himself most of what’s available, but he almost feels like he’s on vacation, so he grabs a pastry and quickly devours it before the guilt sinks in. The flakey, sugary taste is sweeter than sweet as it hits his lips. “Here…” he lifts the danish to Jungkook’s mouth and coaxes him to take a bite without a second thought. The instinctual domestic nature is less and less jarring the longer he stays.

Jungkook’s eyes widen a tad bit in surprise at the sudden gesture, but quickly grasps Jimin’s wrist to guide the pastry to his mouth, chomping off a large piece. His eyes flutter shut with a quiet hum in content—his adoration for sweets so strong that one would wonder how the hell he has the physique he does. “You’re a man of taste,” he chuckles, bringing the straw of his drink to his lips to wash the pastry down. He could definitely get used to having Jimin here, seeing the elders' reactions to his everyday life, so adorable. Having somebody here is a nice change. Sharing this with him is all Jungkook starts to crave. “Try the fruit. Get me some grapes.”

The grapes grabbed Jimin’s attention right away—so ripe and juicy. He lifts a vine from the table and plucks off a single grape, popping it into his mouth and biting down with a satisfying crunch. A light moan tickles his throat, unable to contain how much he enjoys every bit of this.  “Want one?” He plucks another grape and grasps it between his teeth, bringing it up to Jungkook’s lips to feed him directly.

With a smile, Jungkook leans in to bite the exposed half of the grape and within the same movement, grasps Jimin’s waist to push their hips together. “Want you ,” he shamelessly admits, digging his long fingers into the blonde’s sides, tipping his head forward to press a soft kiss on his plush lips. Jimin is already acting more and more in the manners that Jungkook wants; so sweet and almost domestic, like they’re actually together. He really likes it...and in his own mind, they might as well be. He has no eyes for anybody else since he saw the blonde step into his photo session.

Jimin’s hold tightens, digging to be grounded in reality while his mind floats somewhere else. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, feeling so clingy and lustful since the second Jungkook called him “baby.” “N-need you,” he says quietly. His eyes fall away from the other man as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He isn’t sure what exactly he needs, but every little facet of his time with the photographer is so overwhelmingly euphoric he can’t imagine being apart.

One of Jungkook’s hands moves up the elders body until he reaches his neck, carefully sliding down the robe on one side to expose his small shoulder. “Yeah?” He nuzzles his nose into Jimin’s neck. Fuck, he smells so nice... A deep inhale follows, unable to resist the urge to brush his lips against Jimin’s soft skin. This man is the human embodiment of a drug.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, weak in the knees. He pushes his robe down further for Jungkook to feel and breathe in any part he desires. He does the same to the other man, tugging the robe loose until it hangs slack around his back. He kisses his way up his built arm, paying close attention to the tattoos that decorate his skin.  “Didn’t expect you to have so many,” Jimin notes with lips pressed lightly to a dark tattoo engraved in his shoulder. “I’ve always wanted more. Love the way they look.”

“Want a tattoo?” Jungkook muses. The mere thought clashes in his mind. Jimin’s skin is precious , not just any tattoo would be good enough. He sighs at the sensation of the elders lips and knows exactly who he’d choose to fulfill his wishes, if he wanted. There’s nobody he’d ever trust more than his personal tattoo artist, Kim Namjoon. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t anticipating the sounds the blonde would make as soon as the needles graze his tender skin... “What would you get?”

Jimin lifts the hem of his robe, exposing his naked thigh. “It would need to be special. Maybe something small. I’m thinking here...” he motions to the taut muscle, pure and unmarked. Jimin surveys Jungkook’s expression as he rubs a thumb over the flesh, “Wouldn’t it look pretty here, Jeon?” Clearly the younger appreciates body markings. It’s only fair his input is taken into consideration. He is, after all, the one who unknowingly influenced Jimin to finally do it.

Jungkook crouches down in front of him, allowing his slender, inked fingers to smooth down Jimin’s thigh until he reaches the part that’s meant for the tattoo. He takes a short moment to just admire the firm, untouched skin before gazing up at the blonde. “It would look gorgeous...I have the perfect person for the job. Maybe after today’s fitting?” He tilts his head in question, wondering if the model would truly be up for it. If Jimin mentions he wants something, Jungkook can’t get it out of his mind until he has it. Was it a small comment in the heat of the moment?

For Jimin, it’s so easy to just say yes when Jungkook asks a question. His wide bambi eyes sparkle with intrigue, and who is Jimin to strip that joy from him?

“Yes,” he answers, a little hesitant. He was just playing around to get a rise out of the younger man, but the idea of getting permanently marked while Jungkook watches is even more exhilarating. “But after the fitting. I need to be in top shape if I’m going to get down on my knees and measure you properly.”

Jungkook’s expression lights up—a yes is definitely what he wanted to hear. He knows he’ll have to set the plan in motion, because Jimin wants it.

“That I agree with,” Jungkook coyly replies with a crooked eyebrow. The playful spark in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he leans in to kiss the blonde’s thigh. He plants a soft peck before standing up to cup Jimin’s cheeks. “Have you eaten enough? We should get ready.”

Jimin quickly devours another danish before his body tells him not to, living just a little longer in the fantasy world Jungkook created. It really is too good here, and with the other man adoring every facet of his being, it’s very hard to leave. Leaving Jungkook to finish his breakfast, Jimin finds his way to the nearest shower and instantly gravitates to the shampoo Jungkook lathered him with the night before. It’s a comforting smell that is now regrettably faint on his skin from a deep sleep. He hurries to coat himself in it, head to toe, blissing in the cloud of humidified scent blooming under the warm cascade of heat. After a short while, he steps out, feeling like a new man, ready to give Jungkook the suit of his dreams and repay him for everything.

Jungkook doesn’t bother with a shower, but simply gets dressed and waits. He runs his hand through his messy locks. The ruffled look adds to his childish yet not so innocent charm, juxtaposed against his black dress shirt that fits his firm physique, paired with black jeans. It’s a casual look, yet his adorning jewelry showcases that he is anything but ordinary, with many shiny rings and an expensive necklace that rests at the base of his neck.  While waiting for Jimin, Jungkook lays down on his couch and contacts Namjoon to make sure he’s available and ready after the fitting. He’s giddy to surprise Jimin with the news... later .

All the while, Jimin wrapped back into his robe and padded down to Jungkook’s studio in hopes of retrieving his clothes, however, he found them neatly folded on a decorative console table just outside. The studio door was shut and locked tight, which he found slightly odd for a mere photography studio. Regardless, he was sure Jungkook had his reasons. He changed into his clothes from the night before and finessed his hair into a presentable style with a bit of product he found laying around. It’s not best practice in the world of fashion to be seen in public wearing the same thing twice, but he made an exception for the day.

Eventually, Jungkook grew bored and decided to go find the blonde roaming around his house, only to find all ready in yesterday's outfit. Cute.

“Ready to go? Car’s waiting outside for us.” He reaches out with grabby hands for Jimin, waiting for him to get the hint; to run to him. The younger wishes for the domestic feeling to never go away, and he was curious how the blonde would act among other people.

Luckily for Jungkook, Jimin got the hint right away and walked towards him quickly, still taking the time to admire his fit as he approached. Today is going to be difficult— how can he build upon perfection? It’s hard not to implode by how cute Jungkook is, looking the way he does, so effortless and cool; truly a muse fit for the occasion. “Ready,” Jimin nods, smiling widely and snuggling into Jungkook’s arms to enjoy a few last moments in this fantasyland before transitioning back to Park Jimin, the supermodel and fashion aficionado.

Jungkook cups the blonde’s cheek and guides his face to look up at him—a last close up look before their one-on-one dynamic would be broken, momentarily. His butterfly truly has a duality to him that is admirable, however the way the elder can easily crumble for him is incredible.

“Okay, let’s go.” He flashes his signature toothy smile and turns to guide them to the waiting car. His arm tightly grips Jimin’s waist until he has to let go to hold the door open for him.

~

Preparations were made on Jimin’s part during the ride. It seems his assistant is used to last-minute bookings since he started his Be Your Light collection. Last-minute tailorings for industry events and spontaneous all-nighters when inspiration struck. For this occasion, he requested that all the materials be ready for him to use alone—No assistants. The attention would be purely put on Jungkook. Just like the photographer’s preferred work style, Jimin wanted no distractions.

It was go-time the second they arrived—Jimin’s assistant guided the two men into a secluded wing of his studio where a myriad of patterns, leathers and fabrics were laid out.

“This is perfect, thank you,” Jimin nods his approval and flashes a sparkling smile, then begins to pull together his measuring tools. “Jeon, please, take a look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

Jungkook begins to stroll around the different materials to work with, fingers smoothing over the fabrics tentatively.  His eyes keep looking back and forth between the black silk and leather. He always tended to like darker, edgier themes, but the soft and shiny material is so comfortable to touch. Jungkook grasps it in his hand and holds it up for Jimin to see with a lopsided and challenging smirk on his lips.

“Could you make me something with this?”

“There’s a lot I can do with that.”

Jimin strolls up to feel the smooth silk beneath his fingertips. Leather would have been a fine choice for its stability and durability, but he likes a challenge. “Black silk,” he notes, plucking the swatch from Jungkook’s hands to inspect it further, “it can be very complimentary to your skin tone.” He rubs his thumb over the rise and fall of the fabric’s exterior—a faint textured brocade, so unique and fitting for the man—dark, yet subdued. “If I tailor it just right, it can hold your shape or flow loose, if you choose.” His designer mind flicks on and he plots the form internally. “What kind of event do you plan to attend in a silk suit, Jeon?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jungkook shrugs, a smile mixed between sheepish and coy replacing his challenging smirk. His eyes follow Jimin’s delicate fingers as they smoothe over the fabrics, already wishing they were on him instead. Growing impatient, he jumps a bit in his position. “I want the silk, make it fitted…” He muses for a moment. “And a low front?”

“A low front, huh?” Jimin glides a hand down the front of Jungkook’s shirt and tugs a little to reveal his defined collarbones. “A very wise choice,” he smirks, releasing the shirt with a snap, “take this off, I’ll need to get close to your body for the tightest fit.” He takes a couple steps back to give Jungkook space, itching to rid the shirt and everything else. However, this is a big opportunity to make something neoteric and special. The process will be the greatest test of his patience.

“Everything?” Jungkook coyly replies as he pulls his shirt over his head, shamelessly exposing his upper body to Jimin. He kind of likes this side of Jimin. No, scrap that–he really likes it. The photographer is rarely ever told what to do, and the elders' confidence and passion for his work is just adding to the younger's growing infatuation.

Jimin bites his lip at the question. “Eager, aren’t we?” His fingers fall to Jungkook’s waist, gliding across his exposed hips and down to his belt buckle. “No, Jeon, just the shirt for now.” He gives the buckle a light tap and then steps behind the photographer, releasing a soft sigh at the smooth expanse of flesh he’s blessed to dress any way he likes. “We’ll start with the top and work our way down. Now stay nice and relaxed, I want to make sure the measurements are precise.”

Jungkook’s coy pout matches the mischief in his eyes as he glances over his shoulder at the blonde. “Yes, Mr. Park.” He turns his head back to look straight forward, letting his arms dangle loosely on his sides. “Take your time with me.” Jungkook really dragged out the way he said the elders last name, as if they weren’t already past the point of formalities.

Jimin takes his time to touch and measure Jungkook’s torso until he has every inch of muscle definition saved to memory. The younger’s enthusiasm encourages him to work with full concentration as he daydreams about the low neckline and how he’ll form it. However, he’s easily snapped from his thoughts whenever he is referred to as “Mr. Park,” like he’s never been called the name before. When it rolls off of Jungkook’s tongue, it’s no longer a name given at birth but a name given to tease. He drapes the measuring tape around the back of his neck and pauses, taking one last second to admire all of Jungkook’s tattoos, fully exposed just for him. What a predicament he’s gotten himself into. He doesn’t want to rush the process, but once the pants come off, he may need to pick up the pace.

“Now the pants, Jeon,” Jimin instructs with the firmest tone he can muster, “take them off for me.”

Jungkook cocks a playful eyebrow at the elder male, letting his hands work his belt to slowly unbuckle it. “You’re so cute when you’re bossy.” He unzips and peels his pants down, letting them fall and pool by his feet before stepping out of them, standing in nothing but his boxers. It’s new, being the one to follow orders. But, the way Jimin tries so hard to remain professional is the best part. So the photographer plays along, curious as to how long the blonde can hold his mask before it crumbles.

Jimin continues to act like he doesn’t want to take advantage of Jungkook’s vulnerable state, which is even harder than it looks.

“I’m always cute,” he responds just a little too late and winks at the younger man. He doesn’t know what he’s saying at this point. His brain switches to autopilot once Jungkook’s thick thighs become visible. All he can think to do is take a deep breath, bend to his knees and measure.  Measure, measure. He jots down his findings on a small notepad to keep his hands busy. The process is almost complete—just one more measurement and Jungkook can get dressed. Jimin places his palms on Jungkook’s inner thigh to hold the measuring tape in place for the inseam.  “Hold still,” he asks quietly, feeling small and meek under the younger man’s gaze, “I’m almost done.” His hand soothes over the expanse of his exposed flesh, lingering a little longer than professionally advised.

Jungkook firmly places his hands on his hips as he gazes down at the blonde from above. His potent stare along with the confidence practically oozing off of him is sure to make just about anybody nervous. However, it is Jimin that he wants to bring to his knees, and conveniently enough, he already is. Before Jimin could properly measure his inner thigh, Jungkook playfully reaches his hand down to brush the blonde locks away from Jimin’s face, then runs his long fingers through it, giving a light tug before withdrawing.

“Done?”

Jimin shudders from the tug at his roots, causing his muscles to tense from the pleasure and proximity of the man above. He can’t resist the effect Jungkook’s beautiful hands have on him, especially when they’re carded through his soft hair, caressing him any way they please. “Almost done,” he says in a low tone, aching to deflect attention from the growing tent in his pants. “But if you keep distracting me, we’ll be here all day.” He glides his hand higher up the younger man’s inner thigh until it touches the hemline of his briefs. “Would you like that, Jeon?”

“Is that a question or a proposition?” Jungkook’s light smirk doesn’t go unnoticed. His hand doesn’t leave the blonde’s curls as he twirls the light ends between his fingers. God, did he love to tease the model, who’s eyes seem to dilate with lust as they gaze up at him with innocence. But Jungkook knows by now that he is far from the angel he initially presented himself as.

Jimin replies with a smirk of his own, dragging his small fingertips down the younger’s inner thigh to take the last measurement. He purposefully brushes the back of his hand against the bulge in Jungkook’s briefs and teases him through the fabric for just a second, then withdraws completely as if nothing happened. “I’ll pass my notes to my assistant so she can begin the preliminary steps—shouldn’t take long.” He stands to his feet and steps so close to Jungkook that their bodies nearly touch. “You did great, Jeon. You can get dressed now.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in a small, toothy smile. The blonde really tried to play him at his own game. Well, if that’s what he wants... He nods lightly before turning around to bend over and pick his clothes up, slowly putting the fabrics on one by one without a word. Maybe Jimin expected a different reaction, but Jungkook wanted the blonde pining rather than simply giving him what he wanted. ��As he is fully dressed, he turns back to face Jimin and reaches out to caress his cheek with the back of his hand. “I'm thrilled to see what you come up with… Now, are we done for today?”

“That’s a wrap,” Jimin nods, internally cursing himself for encouraging Jungkook to dress so quickly. Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to show some affection now that the measurements are recorded.  He melts into Jungkook’s caress and curls his arm around the small of his waist to guide him to the door. He peeks up at the taller man beneath his blonde fringe, feeling more relaxed now that he doesn’t have to focus on drafting the suit.

“So, about this tattoo...”

Jungkook’s face lights up at the mention. “Yes! Do you wanna go now?” He is a tad bit over excited about the fact, as he’s made sure that Namjoon was ready to clear his schedule the very second he made the call.  Kook wraps his arm around Jimin’s shoulder to pull him close as they head towards the waiting car. He may have asked, but his mind is already made up—Jimin is getting that tattoo.

“I’m a little nervous,” Jimin confesses, grasping the car door handle and hesitantly tugging it open, “It’s been a while.” He slides into his seat and gets comfortable next to Jungkook. He’s a little out of his element, but he trusts the man, surprisingly enough. He can’t pinpoint why, but he finds solace in his touch—a sense of calm that makes him feel like he could tackle anything. “I don’t even know what I’m going to get,” he laughs, “Shit, Jeon, what did you talk me into?”

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook’s eyes fall on Jimin as he says so, repeating the same words he once said back at their first photoshoot. Without a response, he gives a vague wave of his hand and the chauffeur begins to drive. He places his hand on Jimin’s thigh and let’s it rest there, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.

It’s not just Jungkook’s words or his touch that pulls Jimin closer—it’s the undivided attention, and his tranquil gaze. Every now and then, Jimin swears he can see the man’s soul in his dark irises. They’re so receptive and kind, but piercing and cool, all at once.

“I trust you,” he speaks above a whisper. Just as he did at their first photo shoot, Jimin places his full and complete trust in Jungkook’s hands. He’s a proven visionary—not only a renowned artist but a man with true vision. If he wants this permanent marking to have the greatest meaning, he’ll leave the final decision up to Jeon Jungkook. That moment in the glass room changed Jimin—seeing his faults fall between the cracks of those mirrored shards, scattered across the floor. He owes this to him. Everything that’s come from that moment has only made Jimin stronger—a better version of himself. “I want you to choose what I get.”

‘‘Really?’‘ Jungkook’s doe eyes widen before they squint in a smile. Small wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes, adorning his skin. He feels butterflies erupting in his chest at the way Jimin willfully gives his trust. He seems entirely head over heels, and that’s exactly what he wants. Jungkook cranes his neck to close the last bit of distance between their lips in a sweet kiss. He pulls back just enough to stare at how Jimin gazes back in awe, only to lean forward and place another kiss on his plush lips...and another, and another. It’s like a drug. Lips, intoxicating, the way they envelope his with loving care.

Jimin presses back firmly to Jungkook and unbuckles his seatbelt to get closer. There’s far too much pent-up energy and nerves in his body to resist. He moves his hand to the back of the younger man’s neck and guides the kiss. He pulls him deeper, gliding his velvety tongue along Jungkooks, crawling into his lap and straddling him face-to-face.  “Really,” he breathes against his hot lips, “Want you to mark me, sir.”

Jungkook can tell that Jimin’s words have double meaning, which causes him to smile.  The plush of his bottom lip grazes the blonde’s. “It’s a promise, butterfly,” he whispers smoothly as his hands settle in a firm grip on Jimin’s hip bones, squeezing lightly to feel the soft flesh push out between his fingers. Jimin always seemed so fragile when he was like this, yet the innocence in his eyes is nowhere to be seen when he’s slowly becoming corrupted by Jungkook’s various temptations.

Jimin soaks in the feeling of Jungkook’s hands on his hips and allows them to hold him close for the duration of the ride. He wants them to hold him everywhere at once, but unfortunately, Jeon Jungkook isn’t Vishnu with four arms. However, at least in Jimin’s mind, he is god-like. Is it odd for him to think so highly of a man he’s known for less than a week? Life moves quickly in the world of fashion—working partnerships are just another part of it. In the words of Heidi Klum, “one day you’re in, and the next, you’re out.” At this point, he’ll do anything to stay in.

The model cards his fingers through Jungkook’s soft hair as he slides off his lap, giving him a small peck on the lips before settling back into his seat. The car pulls up to the curb of the shop; Jimin instantly feels his tingly heartbeat in the tips of fingers as they wrap around the door handle.  A moment of pause, then... “Lets get it,” he breathes out in a wisp of a laugh.

Jungkook smiles as he leans over Jimin to place his long fingers on top of the blonde’s, unlocking the door with him to push it open. As they head inside, the bell to the shop chimes.

“Jungkookie!” They’re met with a dimpled smile greeting them across the room, pen in-hand, working on a sketch. The man stands up to approach the two and gives Jungkook a hug before doing the same to Jimin.

He surely isn’t shy.  

“Is this Jimin? I’m Namjoon.” He takes a step back to observe the blonde, shooting a quick glance at Jungkook that basically says ‘nice.’

Jimin straightens his posture to give the best impression as it seems this man is not only the one about to stick needles in his flesh, but also a good friend of Jungkook’s. As he’s quickly gathered, it’s a rare occasion to meet anyone Jungkook would call a friend. Jimin can only imagine what he makes of his relationship with the photographer. Namjoon’s dark-lined eyes hold firm on Jimin’s, almost softening to put him at ease. “Park Jimin,” the model smiles, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Namjoon smiles back, his prominent dimples on display. He heads towards his desk to pick up the sketch he was working on, beckoning for the others to come closer, “Check this out.”

Jungkook steps beside Namjoon to take a look. “Perfect,” He coos, doe eyes observing the beautiful flower that Joon had sketched on the paper.

“Great,” Namjoon smiles wider, showing Jimin the sketch. It's a delicate drawing of red petals from the sage flower—the meaning behind it being ‘Forever mine,’ which is sketched in a short note at the foot of the page for reference. Joon already knew this is what Jungkook wanted for this one—always something floral, and always different meanings behind them. This one is the most meaningful one he’s ever done...and not just one more flower to be added to Jungkook’s collection on his arms.

Even on the paper, the red petals seem to burn off the page. It’s as if they’re begging to escape the confines of 2D and become immortalised forever, sunk permanently into Jimin’s flesh. He’s lost for words as he scans every detail even though he’s already set on having it on him for life.

“It really is perfect,” he smiles at the cheery dimpled man. He turns to Jungkook and is pleased to see he’s equally enthralled with the finished product. “You’ve chosen well, Jeon.” He drops his hand down onto his own hip until it lands high on his thigh. “Are we still thinking here, or…somewhere else?”

Jungkook’s eyes rake down Jimin’s body in thought for a long moment until they land on his upper thigh. It seems like the perfect spot, and watching the process will be the most enticing part of it all.

“Right here is perfect,” He agrees, placing his hand on top of Jimin’s to apply light pressure onto the firm muscle.

“Splendid,” Namjoon nods before gesturing towards the large, comfortable chair in the room. “Please remove your pants and have a seat.”

Joon heads over to his chair and rolls it over to his desk to gather necessities while waiting for the blonde to get ready.

Mind over matter—Jimin slides his pants down quickly like he would at any runway show. In a situation like this, modesty flies right out the window. In a matter of minutes he’ll be poked raw while Jungkook watches, and the thought alone makes him hastily take his seat in front of the artist, eager to begin.

“Jungkook?” Jimin asks, looking up at the tall man while he towers over him protectively, “You’ll stay here, right? You won’t leave?” His hand itches to hold his as he hears Namjoon whir the machine a couple times to prep the needles.

“I’ll be here every second,” Jungkook promises with a small nod, reaching to brush away Jimin’s fringe from his forehead before grabbing a chair to take a seat next to him, “I chose the piece after all.”

Namjoon smiles to himself at the sweet exchange, noting just how well Jungkook has Jimin wrapped around his finger. It almost reminds him of how he himself used to feel the same way, once upon a time. “Alright, take deep breaths and don’t move. Let me know if you need to take a break,” Namjoon says as he scoots closer in his chair to place the stencil on Jimin’s upper thigh. He observes the placement before giving Jungkook a questioning look, rather than giving the decision to Jimin. Once Kook confirms with an approving nod, Joon gets to work, whirring the machine as he draws the first line. Both men glance at Jimin between strokes, attentive to see his reaction.

The stinging sensation of pulsing needles on Jimin’s soft flesh is not foreign, yet they feel sharper this time around. Deeper. Joon does not have a light-handed approach, likely as a stylistic choice for bold line work, but it makes the fine hairs at the back of Jimin’s neck stand on end. The artist’s attention to detail reminds him of the perfectionist in himself. He acted similarly when he sketched his clothing designs for the BYL collection, so he respects the process. He grits his teeth and bares through the pain. He can feel Jungkook’s gaze land heavy on his thigh as the needles stitch into his skin and embed vibrant ink. The younger man’s investment in this spontaneous decision is enchanting. The design he chose is brilliant and thoughtful. Jimin wonders if he’s devoted this much of his undivided attention to anyone else besides himself. Surely a man of his prestige has better things to do than this with him .

Nonetheless, Jimin pushes his insecurity aside and places his hand on Jungkook’s thigh for assurance.

Jungkook observes every stroke of Namjoon’s wrist with deep focus to make sure there is not a single mistake done to Jimin’s precious skin. He’s more invested in this moment than he has been with anybody else. Luckily, he knows he can trust Namjoon to do a job that is nothing but absolutely perfect. Watching Jimin’s skin slowly gain lines and colors with a design he chose...it’s a feeling unmatched by any other. ... Well , possibly matched by the way Jimin is obviously struggling to keep a straight face. The light twitches in his plush lips are so endearing. Jungkook grabs Jimin’s small hand and gently strokes his knuckles with his thumb, holding it like that the entire time.

Then, after what feels like forever, the buzzing of the machine finally comes to an end. Namjoon places the needle gun back on the desk before cleaning Jimin’s thigh off, inching forward to inspect the finished result. “Alright, we’re all done. Take a look by the mirror over there if you want a proper view.” Joon directs his words towards Jimin, but his eyes flicker to Jungkook’s.

Standing on his feet is a raw task, but Jimin does it with a brave face, placing weight on the leg until it feels comfortable enough to walk on. The mirror doesn’t do the piece justice—up-close it is perfectly placed on his toned thigh and brilliantly shaded. He ghosts his fingers over the fresh ink, hovering just above, slightly bewildered that it’s a part of him forever.  He turns to Namjoon and nods his approval, then looks to Jungkook, trying to assess his reaction. From what he could tell, then man is just as pleased, maybe even more. It is his design concept, after all, and he should be proud. Jimin rests his hand at his side but can still feel Jungkook’s hand—thumb working in soothing circles. It makes him wonder if perhaps he’s relaxed enough to take the pain as well.

“While we’re here,” Jimin says confidently, feeling the dopamine pulse in his rosy numb flesh, “are you getting one too?”

“I am, actually.” Jungkook's small smirk tugs at his lips as he remains still, eyes still admiring the work on Jimin's thigh. Forever would he be marked with the piece that he had chosen. And now he’s about to get one of his own.  Kook guides Jimin to have the seat next to him as he gets himself ready, extending his arm to expose the ink-free piece of his skin on his lower arm. Meanwhile, Joon prepared another set of needles. He rolls up to the youngest to place his stencil, raising his eyebrows in a silent question of 'Good?'   With an approving nod from Jungkook, the familiar buzzing sound of the machine echoes once more. Joon marks Jungkook with a similar design as the one on Jimin's thigh; however, slightly different. While Jimin's is a work of red petals, Jungkook's is the flower itself, with petals falling off of it. As with every other piece Namjoon had done on the photographer in the past, he marks Jungkook's flower tattoo with a barely visible number. It’s a sly way of tracking each time the man has brought someone in to tattoo themselves for him. Why? Who knows. It is a mystery only known to the man himself.

Jimin notes the small number as Namjoon etches it onto Jungkook, not even sure if it is a number he’s seeing or just another part of the blooming bud. The photographer’s silken skin beads with fresh droplets of blood, obstructing his view of the design. He doesn’t even wince when the hairpin needles pierce his skin over and over, like he’s done it so many times it’s as casual as a monthly haircut.  Jungkook is a seasoned professional in Jimin’s eyes. He admires the painless way he endures Namjoon’s heavy-handed pricking in what he assumes to be a sensitive part of the body to mark. He can’t pretend he isn’t shocked the photographer had the foresight to plan matching tattoos, and was too bold to assume Jimin would want it. But Jeon Jungkook's bold decisions are what attracted Jimin to him in the first place.

“You’re doing well,” Jimin assures, soothing his hand over the wide expanse of Jungkook’s back. “You’re doing really well...”

Just as the tattoo begins to form into a coherent piece of art, Jimin’s pocket vibrates. He pulls his phone free and stares down at the notifications, quickly hiding it at his side once he realizes who messaged him.

Jungkook smiles at the sweet words coming from the elder, but it fades just as quickly when he notices the slight tilt of Jimin's phone screen to keep it just out of his vision. Kook can't help the curiosity that gradually morphs to swirling annoyance in his gut. He just can't help it—he hates secrets when they’re kept from him. Could it be the same person Jimin was on the phone with earlier? The younger isn't oblivious, and he really wishes this wouldn't cause any trouble. But before he can comment on the split second, the phone is shoved back into Jimin's pocket, and Namjoon chimes that he's finished.

“Alright, we're done here,” Namjoon clicks his tongue and wipes Jungkook's arm clean, observing the masterpiece with his squinted eyes. He rolls his chair out and stretches his back until his spine pops. “Good, Jungkookie?”

“Perfect.” Jungkook approves as he gets up off his chair, looking down at the new piece of art on his skin. A mark just for Jimin. He displays it for the blonde, a crooked eyebrow following with his toothy grin, “Now we match.”

Jimin tries to muffle the sound of incoming text messages as they continue to vibrate in his pocket. If it isn’t Seung-Ho, it’s surely his manager on behalf of Seung-Ho. The man is persistent when he wants Jimin’s attention—but why does it have to be now? Jimin doesn’t have the nerve to check his phone, especially not when Jungkook proudly displays his fresh ink.

“It’s—” Jimin leans closer, grasping the man’s bicep to steady his body. He squints to take in every little detail, down to the faint number etched at the center of the design—but is it a number? It very well could be, but what does it mean? Jungkook doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest, so Jimin pushes his curiosity aside and examines the rest of the tattoo. “Not to be biased, but I think It’s the most beautiful flower.” The delicate way the red petals seem to fall down from Jungkook’s arm and onto Jimin’s thigh is wholly picturesque. Jimin would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him, knowing the two of them will share this for the rest of their lives. If anything, let it serve as a reminder of their working partnership and the bond they shared shooting Jimin’s first solo collection. Give it time and perhaps the tattoos will increase in value. It’s not even a day old and it’s already Jimin’s new favorite piece of art. He lightly taps his tender thigh and savors the sting, flicking his eyes between both tattoos until they are melded in his mind as one. “It’s been a long day, Jeon,” he winces, tapping his tender flesh a little too roughly. “Ready to head out?”

Jungkook shakes his head with a mischievous, toothy grin growing on his face. “Not yet, I have one more thing.” He speaks as he stares at Namjoon, who suddenly seems to shrink where he stands despite being the tallest of them all.

“Are you sure? It'll hurt.” Joon asked with his eyebrows raised high, feeling the itch in his fingers. He really wants to do it, but he also wants to make sure this was truly what the younger desires. He does hope for a ‘yes’ though. There is nothing else he wants right now than to feel and see Jungkook, even if it's in a professional setting.

“Yes, I've planned this for a while now.” Jungkook's hands travel to the hem of his pants, tugging at the waistline as his grin grows wolfish, “And I want it right now.”

“O-okay...” Namjoon's voice strains, his heart practically bursting within his rib cage with excitement. He loves tattooing, but if there is anything he loves more, it’s body piercing. There is just something about the adrenaline he feels rushing down his spine when he feels the needles easily penetrate through flesh, to be adorned by a piece of jewelry. Joon would be lying if he said it didn't make his face heat up a bit.

“Alright, take a seat,” Namjoon clears his throat, sitting back down on his rolling chair and patting the client seat.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to pull his pants down along with his underwear, shameless and confident in his body as he sits down, half laying in the seat, eyes fixed on Jimin's. He notes how the blonde's eyes immediately find exactly what Kook expects.

“Don't stare so intensely, I'll get excited,” Kook teases Jimin, then flickers his gaze down to meet Namjoon's, who is also seemingly swallowing tightly to keep his professional mask on.

This is too much fun.

“A-are you—” Jimin’s voice weakens as Namjoon grasps Jungkook’s flaccid length and lines up a small barbell at the tip, measuring for size. He very clearly is, no doubt about it. If he was confident going into the tattoo, Jungkook is beyond confident going into this. Jimin wants to ask permission to watch, but can tell right away that it’s Jungkook’s full intention that he do so. He really does like to put on a good show, and, well, Jimin is captivated.

Namjoon finds the perfect piece of jewellery and sets it aside to ready the needle. It’s much larger than Jimin would have imagined—it looks hallowed throughout and incredibly sharp. It’s difficult to understand why in this moment, but Jimin feels his skin heat with arousal at the mere thought of seeing Jungkook’s tip gleam with a pretty stud through it. He takes a seat beside him, aching to be as close as possible. He crosses his legs, already feeling his cock stiffen at the sight. Jungkook seems to be affected as well, gradually growing thicker, unabashedly, right in front of his audience of two.

Jimin nips his plushy bottom lip and focuses his curious eyes on Namjoon’s hand as he grasps the hardening cock, ready to pierce. “Be still,” Jimin warns, nearly salivating at the sight. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Namjoon knows what he's doing, it'll be nothing but perfect,” Jungkook sighs out his words when Joon's warm fingers wrap around his length, already half hard from having two sets of eyes immersed in him, and him only. “Right, Joonie?”

“Right…”' Namjoon whispers through his teeth, his eyebrows tightly knit together in focus. It’s not easy to keep himself collected when Jungkook's cock is literally within his grasp. It’s heavy, and the all too familiar feeling of it makes his gut stir. “Just take a deep breath and don't move,” he warns as he brings the needle closer. His other hand keeps a firm grip around Kook's length, twitching once Joon's fingers tighten around it.

“Just do it before I get too hard…” Jungkook groans quietly. In all honesty, the photographer doesn’t care if he’s rock solid while getting pierced, he’s too much of a glutton for pain to mind it. Maybe he'd even prefer it that way. To say this is arousing would be an understatement.

Namjoon doesn't need to say anything else, and finally presses the needle through the flesh. For other professionals, this might've been too slow, but for the two of them, this was just the perfect torture. The needle is so sharp it practically melts through Jungkook's cock, and it has Namjoon foaming at the mouth when he hears Jungkook's audible moan echo in the studio.

“Fuck, hyung!” Jungkook curses through gritted teeth. His hand instinctively reaches out to grab Namjoon by his hair, tugging harshly. “All the way through, keep going.”

Namjoon's lower lip is tightly clamped between his teeth as he holds back the vibrating groan in his chest, finishing what he started as he finally pushes the needle through entirely; the bloody sharp tip of the needle sticking out on the other side. It’s gorgeous.

Jimin’s body feels hot and electric as the pain of his tattoo dissipates and is replaced with pure exhilaration. He watches every movement with wide blown-out pupils. His mouth is impossibly parched, he can’t will himself to swallow out of fear he might blink and miss a millisecond.

Namjoon loops the barbell through the hallowed tip of the needle and threads it through as the needle glides free of Jungkook’s stiffening length. It’s set aside, freeing a small bead of blood to trail down his shaft.

Jimin tears a fresh sheet of paper towel from a neighboring roll and dabs the wound gently. The younger man’s reddened tip swells under his touch and only spurs Jimin on to dab with excess—more than what’s needed, but selfish and satisfying for his own pleasure. He nips his bottom lip roughly until he’s sure he might draw blood of his own, then looks up at Jungkook with nothing but urgent need, silently begging to leave straight away. Jimins needy look doesn't go unnoticed by the younger, giving the blonde a reassuring wink.

“You did well hyung.” Jungkook leans in to press a light kiss on Namjoons forehead before he stands up, observing the little addition on his length. The pain is delicious, stinging and amplifying the throbbing pulse rushing from his heart to his cock.

Yeah, he needs to put it to use...there was no way around it.

Jungkook pulls his underwear and pants on, nonchalantly clasping the button on his jeans before he beckons Jimin to follow him like a puppy. “We will be back when I want some additions to my butterfly.” Jungkook grins at Joon, knowing the man knows exactly what he means, and that he'd have to be prepared. Soon.

The bell chimes loudly as Jungkook holds the door open for Jimin, giving Namjoon one last silent look before he walks out.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[marshmallowprotection]

Commission for @that-russian-gal

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Bio: You found yourself drawn in by the two of them and by the time you’re in too deep, there’s no way to turn around and escape from those devious western partners. 

Characters: Reader, Judas Choi, Minji Cho

Length: 1500

This is 100% OC Centric, so keep that in mind.

This was never any place for someone to live and travel without knowing what they were getting themselves into. 

When you left home to find someplace where you could see yourself living and changing for the better, or the worse, frankly, anything was better than staying at home, you never thought that you would find yourself in the sprawling area that amassed mountains and desert. 

But, this is where you had come and this was where you had wound up. 

There was no changing that fact so you made time to try and settle down. 

At least, for the time being. 

This area was different from what you were used to by all accounts, and though you were still going through periods of culture shock to being a fish out of water… you were settling in rather nicely for the most part. You had got a steady job working at the local bank which was an influx of visitors due to the booming gold industry. 

Some people were getting lucky and others were just slaving away in the dirt, unable to get the fortune that they so desperately wanted to hold in their hands. That’s not what you were invested in. No, you’d just wanted to live a quiet and peaceful little life in your bubble and enjoy the company of the nice feeling of knowing that you were living the way you wanted.

And not the way that someone wanted you to be living. 

It was a quiet little life but it was one that you proud of because you’d done all of this on your own. Nobody had helped you put together your house and nobody had given you anything to get to where you were today. It was built upon your own two hands and for that, you were proud of how far you’d come from that person you used to be. 

Time can change a lot about a person but one thing seemingly would never change: The fact that you’d been drawn to eye people that shined like jewels against the dusty clay soil, and as guilty as you were of this fact, you had no shame in that regard. If you saw a pretty face? You would lean towards that person in the hopes that maybe you’d be able to catch their eye someday. 

For example, you had an ongoing little game with the local baker, who made what you would call the best bread in all the west. It was made with the delicate care of her hands and each step was done with the notion that any bite someone took would have the same consistency. She took her job seriously in a way that nobody else could or would. 

Banana bread and raisin bread… all kinds of specialty items that she worked hard to get deals for considering the area that they lived in. It was hard to maintain gardens and food out here.

However, Minji was nobody to laugh at. She had managed to make deals and friendships with all kinds of people. Which meant that nobody dared mess with her in the slightest. If they did, they knew that it would not only occur the wrath of the people that cared for her but the people that had a strong need for her baked goods. 

You could never tell what she was thinking but God, you could’ve listened to her talk all day about nothing and you’d still be interested in seeing her every day. It was the same song and dance every day you visited her at her bakery once you got out of work. She’d smile at you, extend her hand, and you’d shake it with a gentle fever. 

“Nice of ya’ to drop by,” she’d beam without question. Her golden curls carefully braided and out of her face. “I was hoping that I would see you again. There’s something that I’d love for you to try out for a taste. I want to share it in the shop but I need to know that it may be good enough for my customers, and I trust you dearly.” 

“Absolutely, anything to help you out,” you responded, never once looking away from her face as she giggled and laughed. “It’s no trouble for me. You do make the best of the best, Minji. You always make sure that everything you sell is perfect.” 

Her head bobbed as she nodded, “Only because you’ve helped me so much lately. I doubt the business would be fairin’ as well without ya’ helpin’ me out, my favorite customer! Well, less yer’ countin’ my honey and darlin’, too.” 

It was always the same story but you never pressed her to do anything that she wasn’t comfortable with. She was the one setting the pace for you. She was the one luring you in with a heart of gold and making you fall deeper and deeper into a trance around her heart. 

Whether she liked you the way that you liked her or not, God, you always wanted to stay her “favorite customer”.

The way that her fingers ran through your hair and coaxed you to come closer and closer, the way that her lips lingered close to yours whenever she pulled you into a strong hug and the way that she smiled so broadly whenever you got tongue-tied from one of her compliments. As eccentric and as bubbly as she was, she never quite realized just how easy it would be for her to date someone. 

That was the portion that was hardest for you because you didn’t just have a tender feeling in your heart for Minji alone. No, because her darling that she mentioned happened to be the other person that you could never get off of your mind. His name was Judas, and he was the star of the show in the local saloon. 

Nobody could take their eyes off of him.

Not men, not women, and not anyone in-between or outside of that. 

He was always center-stage and he always knew how to make people swoon and sigh. You spent quite a bit of your free time just sitting in that bar and watching him flirt and taunt some of the patrons as the outfit you wore left little to the imagination. He would always take the time to come and see you when he noticed you were around.

His fingers curling underneath your chin and beckoning you to look at him, only him, and watch as his lips brush so sweetly against your cheek. It left your heart pounding and he always whispered so low in a sultry tone that, “Ya’ don’t owe me a thing, sweetheart. Pretty little fillies get my affection my free and you’re just my type.” 

It left you sputtering and kept you on your toes for the longest time. You never knew how to react or respond to him, all you knew that he liked playing with you and you weren’t going to tell him to stop doing that. A part of you wanted to be played with. 

The corset was snug around his waist and the unbuttoned state of the shirt lay flush against his skin. His raven hair contrasted the softness of his skin tone, and his blue eyes shimmered like starlight on a cloudless night. He had a way of purring and pawing at people to get them to pay up or to listen to what he had to say. 

Anyone and everyone that had taste was interested in getting to know him and getting close to him, but it was known that he was very intimate with the baker. The way that he always lit up when he’d seen her stop by was telling enough. Not that it made anyone jealous, no, as a matter of fact, if and when people realized that the tall girl was around her short boyfriend—

They’d wind up fawning over the two of them and sighing contentedly if they were given any little ounce of attention. 

To be pushed and pulled between the two of them was a dream and a dream that you were quite frankly living. You weren’t sure when it started or how it started, all you knew that you were right where you wanted to be. It might have had something to do with how badly Judas wanted you and how quickly you realized that Minji had just the same desire. 

Weeks of you missing their hints because you were too caught up in the idea that you were shameful for wanting the both of them when they so very clearly wanted you as their cute little partner to have and to tease with a smile. 

They had been working together to pin you down until you realized the truth that had been there all along. You had spent so long pining that you had blinded yourself to the fact that they were both flirting with you openly and presently for so long. 

It took one of them grasping you by the arm and kissing you for you to stop and think: Oh. Oh.

That was why you were pleased to be where you were at that very moment; Judas’ arms clasped tightly around your waist as you sat in his arms and he kissed at your neck with a gentle desire, all the while Minji’s hands carded through your hair and her lips kissed every single spot on your face that she had desired. Between the two of them—

You had never felt so wanted in your entire life, nor had you ever felt this warm and flustered. They’d been more confident and blasé about the entire time, and you felt like you were catching up to them but they would always be one step ahead of you. Which wasn’t such a bad thing. You could’ve kept yourself in this spot forever. 

“Darlin’, you’re just too good for us,” Judas’ voice was low and reverberated in your ears as he chuckled. 

Minji kissed your forehead. You could feel the smile brewing against her lips. “Mhm, they’re too cute, it’s not fair. I’m glad they’re our darlin’, Jude.”

This was right where you wanted to be, and you’d let out a contented sigh, melting into their touches as the hum of the cicadas echoed from outside. 

[witchnova221]

The Boy with the Sunshine Smile

'My son?'

It wasn't the greeting he should give. He would need both hands to count out the rules he had broken but the question was the first thing to leave his lips all the same.

'I'll bring him to you,' his brother replied, eyes moving swiftly over his form, concern marring the smooth line of his brow, 'Wangji?'

'My son,' he said again, the wards nothing to him as he continued his path into the sanctuary of Cloud Recesses.

He heard Lan Xichen hesitate behind him and he almost turned back to reassure him but the words tasted like ash on his tongue. What could he say of his journey? What could he say he achieved three years too late that others had not achieved in the days after the battle at Nightless City? He had not set out with hope but with determination, to find something, anything, just the slightest hint of a presence. Surely if anyone... He shook away the train of thought, it had served him no purpose, just added another weight he had been forced to carry on the relentless, heartbreaking journey.

Wei Ying was gone. Utterly and completely and Lan Wangji's heart was bereft, a hollow in his chest beneath the brand he had forced into his skin in the hope of somehow wearing some permanent reminder of his friend's pain.

'Wangji.' The name now said with more force, a hand taking hold of his arm with the same gentle firmness that had been a constant throughout his life. 'You need to change and rest. Yuan is in his classes and Uncle will not be happy if I remove him now. You look...tired.'

He spared his brother a glance, the concern in his voice chipping a little at the ice he had not shaken off since he had emerged from his punishment. 'The journey was long,' he said, 'An hour. My son.'

Lan Xichen nodded, releasing his hold on him though the worry did not leave his face. 'An hour then.'

The hour dragged itself along at a stubborn pace and even after bathing, changing into fresh robes and once more drawing the mantle of a well-bred Lan disciple around himself, Lan Wangji still found time to pace the floor. The walls around him had never been a sanctuary, even when his mother had been alive they had been closer to a cell than a home, a cage. It was stifling, weighing him down, memories of pain and fever and his brother's worried face flashing through his mind before once more he was on the jagged black cliff, holding on with all that was left in him to the man who had once called himself his soulmate, even as he pleaded to be released.

His nails were digging crescents into his palms when the quiet voice at the door broke him from the horror in his head, Wei Ying's frighteningly peaceful face as he fell slowly replaced by the familiar surrounds of his home.

'Wangji?'

He hastily swiped at his cheeks, removing any trace of the emotion of moments before. Breathing deeply, he drew himself tall and headed for the door, sliding it open to reveal his brother, a hand already held up to placate him as he spoke.

'He is with Uncle,' said Lan Xichen, 'He wants to speak with you.'

Lan Wangji nodded, closing the door behind him as he fell into step behind his brother, refusing to allow his mind to turn over the what ifs that threatened to overwhelm him. He had not taken his leave of his uncle when he had left Cloud Recesses the moment his punishment was over, knowing he would be swiftly waylaid by some task deemed useful and necessary if he had even hinted at his wishes to leave. Where he once would have awaited his punishment, accepted it, asked for it, he now bore it little thought.

He could see the occasional tightening in his brother's shoulders as he followed behind him but no words followed. The pair of them soon coming to a pause outside their uncle's door.

'One word of advice,' said Lan Xichen, his voice low, 'Listen.'

He gave the smallest nod, the gesture enough to satisfy it seemed as the door was slid open and they stepped inside.

Yuan had grown. It was the first thought in his head as his eyes fell upon the boy, knelt beside his uncle's table, robes neat and ordered but his face broke into a bright smile as he looked up at their entry.

'Hanguang-Jun!' he exclaimed, hands pressing on the table as he moved to stand but Lan Qiren's barked command stayed him.

'Sit!'

Lan Wangji watched as Yuan's lip trembled before he forced it away, kneeling neatly once more as he kept his eyes on his hands folded in his lap.

'Wangji. Xichen. Sit down,' said Lan Qiren, gesturing to the empty seats at the table.

Lan Wangji was grateful as his brother took his seat next to Lan Qiren, leaving the place next to Yuan free. The boy glanced up as he sat down beside him, a tiny smile once more gracing his lips and Lan Wangji ignored the annoyed huff from his uncle as he reached out a hand and laid it gently against the boy's head.

'It is good to see you, A-Yuan,' he said, before he folded his hands neatly in his lap and turned his attention to his uncle.

'Your journey?' said Lan Qiren, eyes hard as he regarded Lan Wangji across the table.

'Necessary,' replied Lan Wangji, 'And...done.'

Lan Qiren nodded, satisfied with the words unsaid. 'And now?'

'I am here.'

'We did not have a chance to speak before you left,' said Lan Qiren, 'But Xichen informed me of your intentions in regards to We...this child.'

'It is my intention to raise Yuan as my own, formally now that I may,' said Lan Wangji, 'I believe those who loved him before would have wanted it.'

Lan Qiren's face hardened. 'The wishes of those outside of our clan do not hold sway,' he said, 'It is my belief that, if we are to offer shelter, it will be to a foundling who should be kept humble.'

Lan Wangji felt the bite of his nails against his palms once more as he saw Yuan's confused face look between him and his uncle. 'Zewu-Jun,' he said, 'Perhaps Yuan would benefit from a walk.'

Lan Xichen took a breath, looking from Lan Wangji to his uncle, the moment paused as though seconds from crashing into turmoil before Lan Qiren nodded gruffly.

'Yuan, come take a walk with me,' he said, getting to his feet.

Yuan stood, eyes wide as he looked at Lan Wangji who nodded, hoping to comfort him even when he longed to rise and leave with him. The child seemed contented for the moment, remembering himself as he bowed to Lan Qiren, his balance failing him but he kept his feet and Lan Qiren waved him away with a tut.

'We will not go far,' said Lan Xichen, taking the child's hand and leading him back outside.

Silence reigned but Lan Wangji did not break it, instead he held his uncle's gaze until finally, Lan Qiren chose to speak.

'If you continue to insist upon saddling yourself with this Wen boy, you will be going against the direct wishes of your family.'

'I will be going against your wishes,' said Lan Wangji, 'Xichen has not given me any indication that he disapproves. I intend to raise Yuan as my son. It is my duty to do so.'

'Duty to whom?' said Lan Qiren, 'What do you owe the Wen who slaughtered our own?'

'Yuan was not part of that offence,' said Lan Wangji.

'That is beside the point. He is not suitable to be raised as your son. The rumour alone...'

'Rumour does not matter,' said Lan Wangji, 'Grand Master, Yuan is my responsibility and I intend to raise him. He will be my son. Whether he is my son here, or elsewhere, is your choice.'

'Have you learned nothing?' snapped Lan Qiren, 'You seem determined to bring shame upon us.'

'That is not my intent,' said Lan Wangji, 'My only wish is to raise my son.'

'It will endanger all if people find out what he is.'

'Then they will not find out,' said Lan Wangji, 'He will be raised as a Lan. He does not remember anything of before or who he was. Xichen and I have not told him and I do not plan to. I wish to keep him safe.'

'Raised as a Lan,' said Lan Qiren, though there was no question in his tone, 'With no influence from outside. I will not have our ways polluted and he is already behind.'

'I will teach him.'

'You have other duties.'

'I will make time.'

Lan Qiren sighed, 'You refuse to be moved on this.'

'I do,' said Lan Wangji, 'I am sorry to pain you but I have made my decision.'

'He will be raised as a Lan,' said his uncle, mimicking his words of moments before, 'He will not be given any special treatment.'

'I would not expect it.'

'His name then?'

Lan Wangji allowed himself a small smile, a courtesy name for his adopted son something he had thought of from the moment he had taken the split-second decision to raise the child as his own. It was a secret he had kept close to his heart, reminding him it was still within even as he sometimes failed to feel its beat. 'Sizhui,' he said, 'Lan Sizhui.'

Lan Qiren nodded. 'Acceptable,' he said, 'He will be expected in the morning. You may go.'

For his entire life he had been taught restraint, poise, calm but in that moment it took all his training and every ounce of discipline he had not to rush from the room. Instead he rose slowly, offering his uncle a bow before heading for the door.

'Wangji. Whilst I may permit this, there is one thing I will not allow. I will not hear the name of Wei Wuxian uttered anywhere within Cloud Recesses.'

Lan Wangji paused only briefly, fingers clenching tighter in the small of his before he continued to the door. He refused to let his uncle's final words sour his mood, not when he soon saw his brother crouched beside Yuan, the pair of them studying one of the few ornate trees that decorated the courtyard. He could almost envy Lan Xichen, so free with his smiles as he spoke quietly to the child, raising one from Yuan in return. He knew the moment Lan Xichen realised his presence, a soft word spoken to distract the child before he looked up with a question in his eyes. Lan Wangji nodded and his brother turned away once more, speaking again to Yuan before the boy looked up with a smile.

'Do not run,' said Lan Xichen gently, watching with a small smile as Yuan fell into the helpless, rushing waddle that all the young disciples were victim of when they were trying to cover as much ground as they could without breaking the rules.

'Hanguang-Jun,' said the boy his face trembling between a smile and tears as Lan Wangji crouched down to his height once more, 'I... Father?'

The shrivelled thing that lived beneath the Wen brand upon Lan Wangji's chest leapt into life, Yuan giving him only a moment to nod before his arms were filled with the child. It may have been his intent to raise the child as a Lan but in that moment he was never more glad that Yuan had been born into a world where such gestures were not something to be avoided and pushed aside. He allowed himself a moment merely to return the embrace before he raised his gaze to his brother, knowing he would see the question in his eyes as to how Yuan would come to call him father before either of them knew of Lan Qiren's decision.

'Uncle has his ways,' said Lan Xichen, crossing the short distance to join them, 'Just allow yourself to enjoy this moment. I have the rest of the day in hand. You will need this.'

Lan Wangji freed a hand to take the pouch his brother held out to him, feeling the softness within until his finger brushed over the small, hard jut of metal beneath the cloth. Before he had a moment to question, Lan Xichen had already walked away, his pace and poise making a lie of the shock he had given his younger brother.

'Father,' came the little voice at his ear, bringing a small smile to his lips, 'Can we see the bunnies?'

'Yes,' said Lan Wangji, releasing his hold and tucking the pouch into his sleeve. He felt the tug on his fingers before Yuan situated his small hand into his, their pace more sedate than Yuan's previous waddle as they headed towards the clearing the rabbits had adopted as their own. The journey was silent, the only change to any other journey made in a pair around Cloud Recesses in their joined hands.

Lan Wangji was glad for the peace, straightening his own thoughts as he waited for something to steal the moment he had. He looked down at the child beside him, the babyish features he had once worn melting away to reveal a fine looking little boy, sweet and sunny, though the roundness in his cheeks was stubborn. Lan Wangji was glad that time had yet to erase that part of his infancy, still clinging to the memory of a precious day in Yiling. He had been called father then, by the concerned villagers first and then teasingly by Wei Ying later. He could not deny that even then the thought had stayed with him, the beginning of a twist of longing though the picture would never truly be the one he had secretly wanted. If all dreams came true, Yuan's other hand would be similarly held, the boy's white robes thrown into contrast against a familiar dark. He would not be alone in the endeavour he had taken on.

Alone. With no experience. Only knowing that he did not want Yuan to feel as he had felt as a child and that, even if the name of Wei Wuxian was forbidden, Lan Wangji wanted somehow to keep as much of his spirit alive in the child that had first been his to raise. The how of the attempt though was beyond his understanding and he felt his feet hesitate on the well worn path.

'What's wrong, Father?' said Yuan, head cocked in question as he tugged on his hand once more.

'Father is afraid to stumble,' answered Lan Wangji.

'But I am holding your hand,' said Yuan, as though it were the simplest answer.

Perhaps it was. However alone Lan Wangji felt, he was not. His brother had already proven himself a competent and gentle guardian, caring for Yuan when Lan Wangji was forced into his solitude for three long years and even Lan Qiren, unmoving in his ways, but still offering Lan Wangji his blessing however gruffly given. Even if they left him though, he would still not be alone, the journey he was making not a solo one but as a pair, the other half looking to him for guidance but already so willing to guide him.

The rabbits gave no indication of concern as they approached, Yuan moving slowly amongst them and reaching down with gentle fingers to pet them as Lan Wangji watched from the side. He reached into his sleeve, retrieving the pouch and opening it. He tipped the contents into his palm, smiling at the sight of the ribbon set with the silver filigree centrepiece.

'A-Yuan,' he called, the little boy releasing the bunny he had been cradling and picking his way carefully through their throng to Lan Wangji's side, 'I have something for you.'

The boy smiled, 'Like you and Zewu-Jun.'

Lan Wangji nodded. 'You will learn the importance of this as you grow.'

'May I wear it?' said Yuan, fingers touching the ribbon as gently as they had the rabbit's fur.

'Turn around,' said Lan Wangji, glad that the boy did so quickly so as not to see the tears that fought for release.

He steadied his hands before he gently set the ribbon in place, the sensation alien when fastening it for another after growing so used to fastening his own. He turned the boy to face him, fingers hesitating for a moment before he reached out to straighten the ribbon. Yuan smiled, raising his own hand to touch the ribbon on his forehead before touching the same hand to the charm in the centre of Lan Wangji's without any hesitation.

'Like you,' he said, 'Can I play with the bunnies some more?'

'Yes,' he answered, a small smile tugging at his lips as Yuan scampered off into the sea of little white bodies once more.

He felt a soft bump against his boot, leaning down to scoop up the rabbit that had broken from the group and taken sanctuary beneath his robes. He cradled it gently in his palm, finger tracing a soft path between the long white ears. Even the smallest creatures in Cloud Recesses would need to learn what it was to have a child so close. They would learn as Lan Wangji learned. He would not be alone.

If you enjoyed the above, you can read more on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529369/chapters/59224675

[spice-chan]

Runaway Omega - Chapter 4

You and Sho sat down with steaming tea, about to drink it in more ways then one.

“So...” it was you that broke the silence.

“If you want to stay, you have to know who the father of my child is, since he might come looking for them if he finds out” you explained. Plus, it’d be super weird to have your roomie’s pup suddenly showing dragon scales.

“I’m telling you this because I trust you, and I expect you to tell no one Sho” I warned, watching him nod his head and keep rabid attention on me.

“So it’s the current dragon prince Bakugo” I confessed, watching his eyes widen, the only indicator of his surprise as he still maintained his poker face.

“After being together for years, he suddenly said that I was beneath him, that I was a distraction to him.” I said, my voice broken at the memory of how my heart broke. At the look on your face, Sho’s jaw tightened.

“You might still not believe this, but I came from the dragon kingdom, I used to be the castle healer.”

Shoto wasn’t aware that the soon to be dragon king was such an asshole. Their kingdom’s aren’t particularly close, so there wasn’t much interaction between them, but Shoto already hated him.

Beneath him ? (Y/n) is a thousand times better then he must be.

“I couldn’t stand to stay there, he was set to be coronated in a few months, and he probably wanted to take the weeds out before he was king, it’s probably why he never marked me or mentioned it; he never intended to.” Your voice hitched. You avoided thinking about this for so long, retelling the tale suddenly opened up a dam of emotion. The betrayal, insecurity, hopelessness you felt after he said those words, when you laid in bed for a few days waiting for him to apologize. The self pity after you saw how sad you are, waiting for a man that rejected you.

He lifted his head, then opened his arms and enveloped you in them.

Surrounded by his strong Alpha scent, potent, yet so virile and comforting, made the dam finally break.

Your shoulders shook as a sob wrecked through you. Crying for wasted years, tears pouring out in memory of the man who consumed your childhood and early adulthood, your first love. The person who you thought, is the one.

He never reciprocated your affections as readily as you gave them to him, but you thought that’s fine, that’s Katsuki, at least he’s trying. He’ll get there one day.

But now here’s Sho, willingly giving all you’ve ever wanted from Bakugo all those years.

Your Omega lifted her head in interest, her head for once not completely filled with thoughts about the pup.

Suddenly, surrounded by his virile Alpha scent and his warm arms, your face flushed crimson, heart picked up speed as you reciprocated his hug.

Then your shoulders shook while a sob wrecked through you. Your emotions flooded and fogged your mind, while a lump settled in your throat, rendering you mute.

You cried and cried, until all your energy was sapped out of you.

When you woke up, you were still in Sho’s arms, still in the sofa. He was awake and silently staring at you.

“Oh, your awake. You passed out for a while there” Sho said nonchalantly.

You gaped at him. Had he not moved from this spot at all?

“You should’ve woken me up” you chided him.

“I didn’t want to” he said.

“Besides, there’s somethings I have to say too”

Oh, right.

He’s probably going to tell you he’s going to leave-

“My name is actually Shoto Todoroki” he declared.

An awkward silence befall you, Sho’s confession hanging in the air.

“Fuck, you’re who ?” Your question cut the silence like a dagger. The Todorokis... he doesn’t mean that he’s actually....

“Shoto Todoroki, third prince of the ice kingdom” he once again repeated, with nonchalance that doesn’t go hand in hand to what he’s just confessed.

“Sho, are you serious ?” You asked him with disbelief painting over your features.

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Sho holds both of his hands out, palms facing upwards, and suddenly, ice sprouted from his right, and a small flame lit up in his palm.

You might not have believed him otherwise.

You gasped and covered your mouth. The infamous third prince, the only dual wielder of both his parents powers. He is heard of across lands, famous for his raw power and potential.

The Sho that you shared a bed with, the one who carried groceries with you, Sho who couldn’t peel potatoes to save his life... he’s a prince ?

You were suddenly impressed with his humility. He had not shown an ounce of arrogance while with you, even though he came up from such a prestigious background. Certainly contrasts with a certain ash blond who didn’t see how a simple healer such as you would he worth his highness’s time.

God, how did he even end up here ?

“But then, why would you want to stay with me ? “ came out the simple question plaguing your mind. He has such a promising future, yet he chose to stay here and limit himself to this simple and mundane life with you.

He turned his head and stared at the wall with a faraway expression, scrutiny still evident in his eyes, as if searching for the answer himself. His dual coloured irises glinted.

He turned his body to you, and took both of your hands in his and softly squeezed them, looking at them to admire how delicately they fit in his. His thumb softly stroked your soft hands, making your Omega squeal in happiness, and heart squeal at the act of affection, at the fondness residing in his eyes.

“I pondered the answer for a while now...-“ he started, sharp eyes suddenly meeting your own ”-but it must be because of a certain cute Omega who showed me the definition of home”.

“I too, have left home, after years of abuse and neglect, Enji decided to seek redemption, and I was just... so overwhelmed. I didn’t want to stay in that place anymore, to be used for this inherited power for his selfish gains. I can’t trust that he’s truly repentant.” The temperature of the room dropped with his confession. He dropped his head and his hair fell to cover his face, as if shielding him from the world and its grievances.

Your hand reached out and swept the hair away, seeing a beautiful grey arise look up from the floor then to you.

The world somehow intertwined our fates. Two runaways, one a prince and another a healer from a completely different kingdom. One would never expect the two of us to be together, but here we are, sitting in a small living room, locked in an embrace, a curtain covering you guys from the prying eyes of the world and its occupants.

He comforted you, now it was your turn. Although he wasn’t shedding any tears, his downhearted expression spoke in higher volumes then any sob ever could. You and your Omega whimpered at his sadness.

“Sho, do you enjoy living with me ? “ you asked softly.

You fully tuned to face you, and nodded his head earnestly.

“Yes, more then I’ve ever enjoyed anything.”

You smiled at his answer, his eyes soaked in your smile, then his own lips tugged to form one 0f his own. He caressed your cheek, his smile still intact.

“Then Sho, you don’t need to be sad, we have each other. But of course, if you ever decide to venture away, I won’t stop you, I want your happiness just as much as I crave a happiness of my own.” Your smile turned a bit sad at the end, involuntarily. The thought of the stoic yet adorable Alpha leaving you behind made your Omega whine and your heart stutter in displeasure.

You were startled when Sho growled, a frown tugging at his lips.

“I’d never leave you and the pup alone” he chided.

“But Sho, you don’t really owe me anything.”

“I know, but yet I still can never find it in me to leave you, I don’t know why...” he mused, trailing off at the end in confusion.

Maybe you miscalculate how attached he is to you and the pup. The fact that he was there during your pregnancy before you even formed a bump would also make his Alpha slightly protective of you. You decided not to fret it anymore.

“Ok Sho, I’m going to take a shower. Need to unwind from all this drama.”

He nodded and smiled at you. The sight still foreign and as heart fluttering as the first time you saw it. His smile was like a warm fire on a snowy day, soothing to the soul.

...........

You squeezed your shampoo bottle, finding barely anything to lather your hair with. You sighed deciding to make do with what little you have, but your eyes caught sight of Sho’s bottle.

You grabbed his bottle and finished your shower using it, the slightly more masculine and musky scent not deterring you in the slightest.

You finished your shower and wore a fluffy sleeping dress. You smelt so much like Sho, it was soothing. Your pup seemed to be soothed by it too, you can feel it somehow.

You felt so relaxed that your eyelids begun to grow heavy.

Suddenly, you felt a kick.

Sleep was knocked out of the window.

“SHO !”

The heard rapid footsteps pounding the floor until the doorknob was opened and Sho barged in, eyes drinking every corner of the room for threat.

His eyes landed on the corner where your nest lay with your excited body on top. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He glared at you, making your stomach drop.

“Sho the pup kicked.”

The glare was wiped straight away.

“Really ?!”

“Yeah, it was right there” you said while pointing to the side of your bump where you felt the kick. You were 7 months in, so it was kinda expected. Time passes so fast.

Sho rushed over and put his hand where you pointed, and jumped when he felt a kick.

Shoto was overcome was so much happiness, he let out a purr. Shoto was confused by his own immeasurable contentment, the pup wasn’t really his, it was yours, so why did he already feel like that pup was a part of him ?

You returned the purr with one of your own, your happiness leaking into your eyes. Your little pup is kicking.

Suddenly, Sho got close and sniffed.

“You smell like me” he surmised. He seemed somewhat pleased, if you’re reading his stoic expression right. He got closer and rubbed his neck against your scent gland.

“Now you really do”

You blushed at his bold actions.

“Sho, umm, while you are here, can you scent some things for me ?” You said while holding a fluffy plushy to him. You felt shy asking something so intimate, but you wanted to have his scent in your nest for a while now. It made you feel safe.

He grabbed it from you and rubbed it against his scent gland, soaking it in his scent. He seemed like he was in a daze, walking on clouds. Sho did feel that way.

There you were, wearing a sleeping dress with a cute sleepy look laying somewhere underneath the excitement. With a bump that would make any Alpha or Beta leap in happiness, sitting there on your nest asking him to scent things.

You can’t really blame Sho for what he’s tempted to do. You were there, looking as ripe as an apple, begging to be plucked from the tree.

Sho inched closer to you, then pushed you back on your nest. Your supine form was towered over by Shoto’s while he inched closer and closer to you. You could feel his breath intermingling with yours.

Then he pushed forward, capturing your lips with his own, holding you captive against his charm. Your nose was overwhelmed with his scent, your ears filled with the sounds made by the harmony of your lips. At this moment, there was no other man in the world then Shoto. His lips were so soft, so passionate.

His hands buried in your hair, and your own found themselves in a similar predicament. You wondered why you didn’t do this before.

Then you remembered why and tensed up.

You pushed Sho away, breathing heavily, your lips a redder shade of rouge then normal, but to Shoto’s eyes, it seemed more like rubies glistening. Beginning the dragon to hoard it.

And Shoto did plan on making you his treasure.

Although, Sho reacted purely on instincts, he didn’t think this far.

“(Y/n) tell me, what does it mean when my heart beats faster around you, when I turn hot whenever you show me affection, when the world seems brighter when I see you smile.” Shoto said, taking your hand and placing it against his pounding heart. It might’ve sounded like it came straight out of a theatre, but it’s how Shoto felt. He didn’t find any other way to communicate the reason for his kissing you other then describing his unadulterated feelings. He felt suspicious of you, but was so enamored when he discovered the purity of your soul, untainted with the greed that seemed to consume everyone around him. When he saw the little habits you exhibited, when he became addicted to your smile, your happiness being his. Shoto couldn’t blame it on spice and weather anymore, eventually.

“Well...based on your symptoms, I diagnose you with love Sho” you boldly replied, and to your amusement, the male solemnly nodded, as if he was diagnosed with a fatal illness.

“I see” he replied. Your heart however palpitated in surprise when he suddenly gave you a peck.

“Will the reason for my ailment take responsibility?”

That made you pause. 7 months ago, you were with an Alpha that you knew for most of your life and thought you’d be mated to someday. But now, it seems as if you are narrating a tale from long, long ago. But truly it was 7 months. And somehow, narrating the tale makes it sound so unattached to you, something that you would be stupid to let hold you back.

“I guess I have no choice” you smiled at him, then pulled him in for another kiss.