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metalbuckaroo · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, lovely! For your sleepover. How about...

“I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.”

Please feel free to ignore if you received this. 💖

Checking In

Summary// A hotel getaway with Bucky's favorite receptionist

Warnings// Lil angsty, some fluff, some smut, cursing, tiny mention of drinking, 18 plus only, minors dni

Note// I kinda love this request. I didn't use the quote, but its based off of the quote, this also got LONG and took sooo long.

My new masterlist and taglist will hopefully be done tomorrow night.

Im really hoping it doesn't flop bc I'm lowkey proud of it and also spent a lot of time on it

MASTERLIST

Moodboard by @commonintrest

This was the slowest Bucky had went with someone in a very long time. Three dates in and he hadn't even had the chance to see you naked. It was driving him crazy to say the least.

Anyone else wouldn't have gotten a call back, but for you; it made him want it even more. So, he came up with an idea to take that extra step.

Walking into the hotel you worked at, he gave a nod to the security guard and flashed you a charming smile; his hair much shorter than when you saw him last. "Like the haircut." You said, turning in the chair to look at him. "Feels more... professional."

"Checking in again?" You asked, leaning your chin on the base of your palm, reaching your other hand to card your fingers through the short hair.

Bucky shook his head and leaned his forearms on the desktop. "No. We are checking in somewhere else. Tonight, when you're off."

His eyes trailed down to the top of your blouse, looking at the few buttons that where open. "Buck, I'm not staying in a hotel with you." You smiled, shaking your head. "Come on, I'll sleep on the couch if you're too uncomfortable." He smirked.

You thought it over for a moment before sighing and nodding your head. "Yeah, ok." You agreed, letting him pull you in for a brief kiss by the back of your neck. "Fantastic. I'll be here at five to get you."

"I'll have to go get cl-" Bucky shook his head at you. "Won't need 'em." He said, turning to walk out. "Bucky, don't you dare."

"See ya tonight, pretty girl."

As promised, five o'clock hit and Bucky was pulling in front of the doors in his sleek black car; quickly getting out.

His usual suit was traded in for a more casual button up tee and dark jeans, the prosthetic that matched the shape of his right arm perfectly on display.

He rounded the desk and picked up your bag. "You can't be back here." You teased, making him roll his eyes. "Come along, babydoll. We have plans." He said, hand between your shoulder blades to guide you with him.

Bucky's plan would surely get that extra step at least jumpstarted. The heated make out sessions in his car when he dropped you off were starting to get to him.

He refused to call anyone else to handle the tightening of his jeans, the wait made him yearn for you even more.

So, he patiently waited as you changed into the lavender sundress he'd sent for, listened and talked over dinner on the patio of the motel, and just basked in your enjoyable presence.

"Dance with me." You said, hand laying on his bicep. He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "I don't dance, sugar."

You raised your eyebrows and cocked your head to the side, fingers tracing down the vein that ran the length of his arm and to his hand. "Well, you're going to, or you'll be sleeping in that room alone." You laced your fingers in his and he looked at you with an amused expression. "Oh, really now?"

"Mhm, c'mon. It's a slow one, so you won't embarass yourself." You teased, feeling his hands on your hips as soon as you turned your back to him. "I never said I couldn't dance. Just that I don't, babydoll." His gruff voice said in your ear, moving to stand in front of you once in the midst of the other couples enjoying their night.

"Couldn't say no to you if I tried anyways." He said softly as your hands rested on the back of his neck, his on the dip of your waist.

The Bucky who took you on dates was different than the Bucky who strolled in your lobby at least once every two weeks. He wasn't glowering when he looked at you; instead he had a smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle and your heart flutter.

He hadn't smiled so hard and so much in years. He was addicted. To your voice, fiery attitude, and gleaming smile; and he couldn't even imagine how much more he'd crave once he finally got a taste of you.

"Gonna let me sleep in the bed, pretty girl?" He cooed, hands roaming over the swell of your ass. "Of course, Mr Barnes." You grinned, pecking a kiss to his dimpled chin. "Could dance with you all night if you wanted me to." He said, squeezing gently. "I wouldn't complain."

His lips slotted over yours, your eyes fluttering shut at the softness of them.

He suddenly lifted his head, bottom lip brushing the tip of your nose as you opened your eyes again.

Bucky's cold demeanor he usually had while walking through the lobby of the hotel returned, smile fading into a deep scowl as he looked at something behind you.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, worry lacing your voice as you cupped his stubbled jaw in your hands, feeling the muscle of it flex. "Just stay close." He murmured, pulling you closer to his front.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, lips parting to say something, but the stern look in his eyes stopping you as they stayed glued on whatever was behind you.

"Barnes, didn't expect to see you here- like this." A voice that was slightly higher in pitch than Bucky's sounded from behind you.

Bucky tucked you into his side, hand on the small of your back as he stared at the shorter man. "Just enjoying my night. That a problem?"

You swallowed thickly and gripped onto the back of Bucky's shirt, crumbling the perfectly ironed fabric in your fist as your heart pounded. "Needa talk." The man said.

Bucky's eyes flicked to a group of men sitting at the corner of the patio before looking back to the man in from of him. "Go sit down. Order us some more drinks." Bucky said sternly. "Bucky-"

He finally looked down at you with an icy stare, making you shrink back slightly. "Now isn't the time to argue with me. Go sit down." The tone of his voice was one you hadn't heard before.

You nodded and turned to walk back to the table, picking at your nails as you took your seat again.

Looking to where Bucky was sat at the table with the group, you chewed your bottom lip. You knew what you were getting into when accepting that first date, you just didn't think it'd follow you everywhere.

He tried to stay patient, he was in rival territory and knew it was a terrible idea; but this was one of the nice hotels and he wanted the weekend spent right. Keeping his cool was the only way he was going to be able to do that.

He was barely even listening to half of what the men were saying, glancing over at your nervous posture as you picked the nails he had just paid to get manicured; even though you protested against taking his money.

Until one statement had his head snapping back towards one of them. "The girl seems... sweet. Make you happy?" It wasn't meant in a way a friend would ask when checking up on another friend. Bucky felt it burn through him like a threat.

"Yeah, well, she's got a mouth on her and I'm losing my patience. So, you men have a good night, you owe my girl an apology for ruining her night." He stood, teeth gritting together.

You noticed Bucky's tense stance and straightened in your seat as he got closer. "Rude bastards." Bucky grumbled, taking your hand in his and tugging for you to stand. "What did they want?"

Bucky thought about lying, but he promised you he wouldn't. "Talk business. Can't believe they'd interrupt me over stupid bullshit." He sneered, pulling you along with him back into the hotel. "Where are we going? They're going to bill you for those drinks." You huffed, picking up your pace to walk next to him. "Don't care."

By the time the two of you reached the door to your room, Bucky had you pressed against it; fumbling to swipe the key card as his lips attacked yours.

Your hands fisted into the front of his shirt to keep your balance as shoes were kicked off, Bucky backing you towards the bed with his large hands holding the sides of your face.

You fell back onto the bed when the backs of your knees met the edge of the mattress, taking him with you; Bucky's body parting your legs.

The kiss was hungry and desperate, sharing breaths as his hands gripped at your outer thighs and pawed their way under the skirt of your dress.

You pulled away from the kiss, breathless as he dipped his head to latch his lips on the underside of your jaw. "Bucky, wait-" You panted, pressing his shoulders lightly. "What?" He breathed, stopping all movements as he looked at you; eyes dark and lips kiss swollen. "I-"

"You're a virgin. We can wait, if so." He cut you off, face dropping slightly. "No, no. It's not that. I just haven't had sex in awhile." You said, gnawing at your tongue. "Want me to go slower?"

"I just don't want to take things too fast." You whispered, tracing the collar of his shirt with your fingertips.

Bucky took a deep inhale, warm hand moving to hold your chin. "Babygirl, listen. I'm not going to kick you out of my bed when we're done. You got me attached with this damn chase you gave me. Wanna take care of you. Okay?"

You nodded and pulled him back down to you, his tongue slipping between your lips as his fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt.

Gently pushing them away, you replaced his hands with yours to pop the buttons open as his tongue glided across every inch of your mouth he could reach.

You lifted your back off of the mattress for his hand to feel for the zipper of your dress, grazing your fingers down the tensing muscles of his chest and abdomen; stopping at the button of his jeans.

"Don't get shy now, take 'em off." Bucky mumbled against your lips, sliding the straps of your dress off of your shoulders.

The wetness between your legs grew as your tugged at his belt, whimpering into his mouth when he pressed his hips against you to show how hard he was.

Pulling away, Bucky sat up to tug your dress down your torso and legs; eyes drinking in the beautiful sight in front of him as he shoved his jeans off and palmed himself through his boxers.

"Take the shirt off." You panted, backing up the bed. A smirk grew on his face, metal thumb sliding back and forth in the waistband of his boxers as he looked at your glistening folds. "Ask nicely and I just might." He taunted. "Please."

You watched the way his muscles flexed with each movement, the shirt sliding off of his arms and to the floor; revealing the mess of scars Bucky hoped you'd ignore and a large tattoo on his ribcage.

Next were his boxer briefs, pooling at his feet as his cock twitched in the air; swollen tip red and leaking precum. "You're staring, babydoll." He said, voice low as he moved his body back over yours.

"Can't help it." You swallowed, the weight of his cock against your thigh as you felt the firmness of his back. His hand slipped between your bodies to guide himself to your heat, spreading your slick with his tip.

"So wet, barely even touched you yet." You whined at his words and gripped his shoulders. "Buck, please. Stop the teasing."

The smirk on his face grew before he brushed his lips against yours. "Hm, I don't know. Kept me waitin' so long, might just tease you a little more." He hummed. You bucked your hips against him, his tip barely pressing into you. "Fuck..." Bucky said in a low groan, a shudder passing through his body.

He made sure you felt every ridge and vein, pulling breathy sounds from you when he pushed deeper. Your walls so tight and warm around him, he already had to hold off his release.

"Look at me, sweet girl." He breathed, nipping at your bottom lip and rolling his hips into yours.

When you opened your eyes, the adoring look in Bucky's made your breath hitch. Hands wedging under your back as he sat up, holding you to him so you were sitting on his thick thighs.

"So beautiful." He groaned as his hands glided over the curve of your back to your ass, metal and flesh fingers digging into the skin.

Guiding your hips in a faster pace, he could feel you clenching around him, swallowing the blissed out sounds you made with a breath taking kiss as his grip on you tightened.

The soft ow that passed your lips made Bucky loosen his grip and move you in a slower pace. "Need me to slow down?" He panted, pulling away from you slightly.

You frantically shook your head, hands clinging to his shoulders; needing to feel his skin against yours. "No-no. Don't stop, please, keep going." You whined, bucking your hips along with him.

In a swift movement, your back was pressed back into the mattress. Your fingers laced with Bucky's as he pinned your hands at the sides of your head, his hips meeting yours in a faster, rougher pace that knocked the breath from your lungs and made your head spin; his cock sliding against every sweet spot, some that you didn't even know existed.

Salacious sounds from both of you echoed around the room, your eyes fluttering shut again and body arching into him so your front was flush to his as the coil snapped.

"There you go, baby. Feel so good, so worth the wait." Bucky moaned out, chasing his own release with shorter thrusts.

A whimper of his name falling from your sweet lips sent him over the edge, his hips flush to yours as he spilled into you with a guttural moan.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, riding the blissful feeling for all that it was as he looked over your blissed out face.

It was the moment your eyes peaked out, staring back into his lust darkened ones that Bucky knew. You were the one thing he needed to protect. To hold close and never let go.

A tender kiss was placed on your lips, a satisfied hum leaving Bucky as he slipped from between your legs to lay beside you.

You slowly moved off of the bed to grab a shirt and go to clean up, legs feeling wobbly with each step to and from the bathroom.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed when you walked back into the adjoined room, legs still a little jelly feeling as you made you way back to him.

He laughed, an actual belly laugh that made your heart swell as he pulled you between his parted thighs. "I have some... unexpected business to take care of in the morning."

You nodded lightly and sat your hands on his shoulders. "I want you to stay in this room and keep the door locked. When I come back, we'll do something." He promised, gently massaging your sides. "Something, huh?"

A squeak escaped your throat when you were pinned back underneath Bucky, his hips pressing into you. "Oh, don't you get me started. I'll keep you up all night."

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #mafia!au #mafia!bucky smut #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #mob!bucky smut

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tonesplash · 4 years ago

Text

its thanksgiving get nasty (18+)

pairing: edward cullen x reader

summary: you get bored at thanksgiving dinner. unfortunately for edward you wore sandals

warnings: smut,brief footjob, thanksgiving dinner, edward kind of chokes on corn, reader doesn’t like their family, mild injury, fingering, innappropriate use of vampire speed, technically exhibitionism and public sex?? bad dirty talk, and cousin-shaming, reader is afab and might be described as female im not sure

a/n: i wrote this in 24 hours so any sloppiness is not my fault

masterlist

(c/n)= cousins name

When you told him thanksgiving with your family would be boring, you’d meant it’d be for him, looking forward to his reaction to being on the receiving end of your bloodlines ridiculousness while you’d get dinner and a show. But, as it turns out, your family just so happens to get along with Edward much better than they do with you.

The seating situation is a little unconventional, since because your boyfriend-snatching cousin stole the open seat next to Edward before you even made it back from the bathroom, leaving your only viable option directly opposite of him. On the bright side, you had the option of kicking his leg when he’d said something to embarrass you.

Bless his soul, he’d done his best to bring you into the conversation but apparently, anything you had to say about your relationship had been relayed verbatim to the family group chat you weren't even in by your mother. So, after the third time you’re talked over by the aforementioned horny cousin or some other nosy relative on you’re bored out of your mind.

Everyone had gotten over your piss poor table manners years ago, or were just completely ignoring you at this point because there were no protests when they’d brought the turkey out and you’d stayed slumped low in your seat like a child in church.

Twitter had stopped refreshing ten minutes ago, and when you finally resigned yourself to tuning back into the conversation, your mother was showing Edward your baby pictures again. Idly swinging one bare foot under the table, your bare toe grazes the drape of his dress slacks under the table when you get an idea.

You’d lost a sandal earlier after Edward had pinned it under his shoe in a vain attempt to stop your pinching and dirtying of his slacks with your filthy soles. You scoot a little further forward in your seat to reach out and press your arch flat against his shin.

Edward doesn’t visibly react, just shifts his leg away, leaving yours to slip to the floor until you reach up again to plant your heel on the seat of the chair. The conversation lulls for a moment as everyone says grace, and he uses the opportunity to grab your ankle and send you a warning glare over the top of your phone.

You meet his gaze and boorishly eat a spoon of mashed potatoes, shrugging as if he couldn’t read in your mind exactly what you were about to do.

Your cousin asks about his mom car again and when you roll your eyes Edward flicks the outside of your fibula, sure to bruise, and you crinkle your nose, pinching his marble thigh between your toes as best you can through the material.

“Well my father thought it was necessary for my siblings and I to-”

While he talks, he's soothing the spot he flicked, playing in the stubble leftover from your shoddy shave job this morning, and the absent affection gives you the final motivation to further push your luck. You tease the seam of his left leg with the very tips of your toes, coaxing the unnatural heat of the venom to build in the crotch of his pants, the coolness of the rest of him making it seem even hotter in comparison.

He inhales on a forkful of corn, almost taking it down the wrong pipe, and you fight a smile around the bowl of the spoon as he flawlessly recovers and finishes the thought. You idly wonder if you could be that smooth someday. For now, you press further, pressing a toe against the seam over his cock, stroking up and down as slowly and consistently as you can while stretched under a table because who would’ve thought that footjobs are kind of an athletic feat.

Edward taps insistently at your leg, harder than he normally would, and you have to hold back a laugh at the idea of him splitting the table because he can’t take a little footsie action. You press forward again, arch encompassing his hardness through the fabric, toes curling against his pubic bone when-

“Ho-oly shit!” Searing pain shoots up from your ankle, and you double over, using everything in you not to shout, Edwards dawning mortification going unnoticed as everyone at the table turns to you at your unexpected outburst.

“(Y/n)?” Your mother doesn’t seem that happy to have dinner interrupted, and you clutch your stomach as a quick cover.

“Uh, my bad.” You snicker nervously at the sudden attention, bravado gone. Your face feels red-hot. “I actually need to use the bathroom, I think,” you lick your lips and slide out of your chair. “Lady problems.”

The table erupts in a cacophony of gags and groans as the notion of a menstrual cycle is brought up in casual conversation, and it gives you the perfect cover to retreat to the upstairs bathroom. It takes you a minute to make it up the stairs without causing a scene, and just as soon as you close and lock the door behind you and settle down to weep in peace, he’s there, jiggling the doorknob like it’s a drug bust.

“Let me in.”

You’re apparently taking too long because as soon as your injured foot touches the floor, he forces the lock and slips in, shutting the door a little too fast to pass as human.

“Jesus! Edward, are you trying to lose our deposit?” You lean around him to check for a handprint but he doesn’t respond, wordlessly setting you up on the counter, kneeling to examine your injured ankle, cool fingers soothing to the sore skin. You sit in silence, idly swinging your other leg to distract yourself.

“How'd you make it out?” You can't imagine they’d let the guest of honor go so easily.

“You forgot your bag, I told them I’d just bringing it up to you.” He places your bag next to you as evidence. “Maybe you should start carrying menstrual products for when you actually need them.”

Of course, he breaks your foot and wants to lecture you on responsible uterus care. Edward sighs, taking your foot with the gentlest touch and whispering a kiss into the skin. “It’s only a sprain, but I’m still sorry.”

“S’Okay.” Your face burns, not expecting his guilt. “Serves me right, huh?” You titter, poking his side with your uninjured foot. He swipes it up before you can start again, halfheartedly laughing with you.

“Let me wrap it before you get any more ideas.” You hand him the compression wrap from the medicine cabinet, and he gets to work. The wince you give at the pressure is more reflex than anything, but the anxious expression on his face tells you he wasn't going to let this go easily.

“Y’know…” You poke at him again. The playful contempt in his golden eyes gives you the go-ahead to make your case. “If you’re really feeling torn up about it, seeing you wow my family like that got me a little riled up.”

“Really.” Edward kisses the secured wrapping and releases you, standing to frame you against the counter.

“I’m serious, impressing them isn’t easy, (C/n) is probably shaving in the guest room to steal you from me right now, just thinking about it has got me a little hot under the collar.” You run your hands over his back and through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his throat.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?” His hands smooth over your exposed thighs sending a shiver up your spine. You think you've got him, but he's such a tease sometimes you can never really be sure.

“Depends. Is it working?” You still, bracing for some line about ‘responsibility’ and ‘your family waiting for you.’

But then his hands are under your skirt, hooking into the sides of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, leaving them to free-fall to your feet. You clutch his auburn hair in your fingers at the shock of open-air against your cunt.

“Do you think I could let you go back to that table smelling like this?” His sweet breath washes against your ear as he huffs a soft laugh. “I’d rather not go downstairs and pretend to care about football when I know you’re here, hot and ready for me.”

You can’t resist him any longer, pulling him close and kissing him with the desperation of a woman who needs to be back downstairs before dessert. His thumb teases over your cunt at first, swirling over your swelling clit and teasing your hole before he finds a focus, using the thumb of his free hand to hold your hood back as his slicked fingers grind the bud into a frenzy while he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

It’s all you can do to hold your breath while he touches you, cool fingers building a knot in your belly, smooth and steady as they batter you up into a frenzy. He adjusts his hand, his ring finger pressing into you and bringing a low ache from rushed preparation, but you welcome it, thighs shaking with the effort to stay open for him as your mouth falls open in a shaky gasp. Edward breaks the kiss to let you breathe , seemingly unbothered until-

“(C/n) is coming.”

“Wha-” A particularly deep stroke has you biting your lip as you struggle to concentrate. “What the fuck does she want?”

“She’s going to ask you where I am.” His expression doesn’t match his words, still completely concentrated on ruining you despite the obvious issue.

“And what am I supposed to tell her?!” You hiss back right as she reaches the door. His mouth closes over your pulse point and you don't think you've clenched that hard before in your life.

“Hey (Y/n)? Have you seen Edward?” Her voice is enough of a mood killer that you have to shove your face into his throat to ground yourself in the moment. He adds a second finger, gaining speed, and you pray and hope to any god listening to this that she can't hear the squelches through the door.

“N-no.” You rack your mind for an excuse. His scent is making it harder to concentrate. “I think he went out for a smoke?” Nice one.

“Really? I didn't smell anything on him...” If all your blood flow hadn't been centralized below the waist at this point you'd’ve asked how the hell she knows what he smells like. He's fully abandoned your clit now, leaving it to pulse in the open air while three of his fingers push and pull at your pelvic floor.

“That's cause he unh-” You slap a hand over your mouth to stop the moan before it can be recognized for what it is.“-he vapes!” Edward pulls back from your throat to look at you incredulously, but it's a little hard to be ashamed when he's nearly wrist deep inside you.

“Oh… Well, let him know if you see him that they’re playing charades and I need a partner. You know how it is.”

You forget to reply, too enthralled watching him spit onto his unoccupied fingers and mash the coolness against your clit, causing you to nearly spasm off the counter, losing the sensation as he silently laughs at having to hold you steady. She seemed to have taken your silence as an admission, as you can hear the door at the stoop of the stairs swinging shut after her. Thank God.

“Rub your spot, Sweet, come on, we have to be quick.” He kisses your temple and laughs a bit maniacally at the little whimper that escapes when you bring a hand down to your clit. “Surprisingly, she’s having trouble picturing me in a vape shop.”

You whine around a bitten lip, too far gone to listen to his ribbing. You’re building up to overstimulation with the sloppy way you’re rubbing yourself, and he must feel it too, because in the next second, his fingers are vibrating.

“Come on, (Y/n), don't you want to finish up here and mop the floor with them?” You hadn’t even realized how hazy your vision had gotten until he grabs your chin and levels your lidded eyes with his and says your name again. You nod sluggishly for him, not hearing a word. He laughs again, smiles wide. His teeth are pretty.

“If you cum right now;” The buzzing grows stronger, your free arm spasming under you as you support yourself. “I’ll rub you raw after on the ride home. You just need to come right now and win charades with me.”

The buzzing inside grows too strong, and your vision goes white, pulsing in long pulls around his fingers as hot waves of sensation spread from your head to your toes.

Edward kisses you, soft and slow, swallowing any whimpers tempted to escape as you come down, abandoning the counter to clutch his sleeve as the twitching reduces to a tremor.

“Oh my god.“ You laugh, planting your face into his collar as you catch your breath. “I can't believe you used charades to make me come, I'm never gonna forgive you.”

“I heard the top prize is a ten dollar gift card to…” He squints and checks again. “The Google Play Store.”

“Ew, what could you even do with tha-”

“(Y/N) come help with plates!” Your mother shouts up the stairwell, totally fucking up any release you just had.

“I guess I should run down to the corner store;” Edward smiles, helping you to stand on wobbly legs and smoothing your skirt down. “Don't want to blow your cover.”

“(Y/N)! Plates!”

“Oh my god;” Your eyes may never return from the back of your skull. “Meet you downstairs?”

He kisses you sweetly one last time, pulling you close and wiping the sheen of sweat off of your face.

“Downstairs.”

With that, he heaves himself out of the narrow sill, and you busy yourself cleaning up as fast as you can.

You just catch him hopping off the roof, and coming around to the front yard. He'll hear you no matter the volume, but you still shout the warning;

“Stay away from my cousin!”

#edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Twilight FanFic #twilight smut #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight x you #the twilight saga #reader insert smut #reader insert fluff #reader #thanksgiving #dinner with parents

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slytherinwh0re · 4 years ago

Text

Dreams

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warning: SMUT (18+ minors dni) and swearing

Summary: Where Draco has a sex dream about his best friend. (I’m such a sucker for friends to lovers).

Masterlist

A/N: I tried a different writing style so it might be a lil funky, idk, lmk.

(Y/n)’s small hand travelled lower, skimming over the happy trail that leads to his trousers. Her lips brushed his neck making goosebumps rise across his pale skin, every touch from her would send a shock of electricity through his veins. She was an addiction, and Draco had no desire to overcome it.

The sounds she made would play in his head forever, he was sure of it. Their hands were everywhere, needing to touch each other’s skin; their clothes long forgotten on the floor by his bed.

“Ready love?” Draco hovered over her, so close to connecting them in the way he always wanted.

“Wake up dumb ass.” Fucking Theo.

He groaned to himself, embarrassed that he’d had yet another explicit dream about his childhood friend. He wondered what she’d think if she ever found out, in his head every scenario ended in heart break.

***

Draco had successfully avoided her all week, every attempt she’d made to hangout he’d shut her down with some bullshit excuse but he should’ve known (y/n) would do something about it. That’s how the blonde found himself limb locked and being levitated to her dorm. He was pissed but so was she, and fuck did she look sexy.

“Why’re you acting so weird Draco?” She asked after lifting the spell. It’s true, he had been acting strange but how could he not? Every time he looked at his the witch he’d think back to the dreams he’d been having. A hard dick is the last thing he needs right now, especially in a room alone with her.

“I’m not acting weird.” He wasn’t surprised when she rolled her eyes, an unimpressed look on her pretty face.

“Yes you are, and you’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?” He hated himself for turning into such a sappy fucking git over her but that sad pout cuts straight through him. Immediately he’s pulling her into his chest, arms wrapping around her body.

“Of course you didn’t, I’ve just been having these dreams and I don’t know how to feel about them.” He was practically squirming but he knew he had to explain himself to the girl or she’d think it was her fault he was being so odd. Who would’ve thought Draco Malfoy would feel the need to explain himself to anyone, then again (y/n) wasn’t just anyone to him.

“Well why wouldn’t you just say that? I’ve been running around all week trying to hangout with you and you’ve barely spoken two words to me.” He doesn’t answer, instead he gives her an apologetic look that has her eyes rolling yet again. “Go on then, what’re the dreams you’re having about?”

The slytherin can’t look her in the eye, the thought of telling her makes him cringe but maybe talking about it will make them stop. “They’re actually about you.”

“About me? What about me?” She pauses, a shocked look adorning her face, “are they like-” she waved her finger between the both of them, signaling to what she thinks it is and he nods, knowing she’s already understood. “Oh- OH.”

“(Y/n), if this changes everything I completely understand but I need you to know I can’t help it, that’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” The witch was silent, she just stared at him and he was sure he’d lost her forever.

That’s why he was so stunned when she started making her way over to him, not stopping until their bodies were an inch away from each other’s. Her hands went around his neck and started playing with the hair there, Draco leaned into her, deciding that if this is what he could get he’d take it.

“Tell me what I did in your dreams Draco.” He about lost it when (y/n)’s lips brushed across his neck, her nimble finger still tugging at his hair.

“This. You’d do this.” She hummed against his skin, acknowledging that she’d heard him. Her hands moved down his chest and over his stomach until she reached the hem of his shirt. The girl looked up at him, silently telling him to take it off.

Draco immediately yanked it over his head, only to realize in that second she’d taken hers off as well, now her hand was reaching behind her back, undoing her bra. Every inch of her skin that’s revealed to him chipped away at his self control but he wanted to see how far she’d take this.

Her bra fell to the floor, her nipples were peaked and begging to be played with but before he could move, she was pressed against his chest. Skin on skin, and she’s kissing him.

The boy felt as if he were on fire, his hand pressed against her lower back, pushing her further into him, deepening the kiss. They moved in sync, their tongues tangled together and hands touching bare skin.

“Did we do that in your dreams?” She pulled away, her lips a bit swollen.

“Yes.” Her smile was contagious, he was sure she’d stop there and he was more than happy to but (y/n) was never one to do what was expected. Instead, she started unbuttoning his trousers and kissing her way down his chest until she was on her knees in front of him.

He was speechless, the sight of the topless girl on her knees for him was enough for Draco to die happy. She had her eyes fixed on him when she got his pants down, already rubbing him over his briefs. With one last smirk she was pulling them down.

“And this? Did I do this to you?” His dick was already leaking with precum when she wrapped her lips around him.

“Fuck yes.” Her hand moved in rythm with her mouth, flicking her wrist every time. The combination had him throwing his head back but he lowered it quickly, not wanting to miss a second of his dick in her mouth. Draco grabbed her hair, needing something to hold onto, the small moan she let out vibrated through him.

(Y/n) watched him through her eyelashes, the pleasure etched on his face had her rubbing her thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. The girl was usually bold but even this was a little far stretched, even for her. She knew that if she hadn’t taken this opportunity to see where things would lead she’d regret it and damn is she happy she did.

The control she had over him in this moment is empowering, to watch Draco Malfoy fall apart because of her is beyond erotic. She hollowed her cheeks, running her tongue up the base with every bob of her head.

She let him out her mouth with a pop, stood back up, and dropped her skirt and panties.

“Let me show you what I do to you in my dreams (y/n).” Draco’s voice was raspy, the desire he felt for her made his mind cloudy.

“Show me.” That’s all it took for them to find her bed, lips locked, and his fingers sliding in and out of her sopping cunt. Her walls clenched his fingers deliciously, his thumb rubbed at her clit in a way that made her chest arch into him. The blonde brings his fingers to his lips, needing to get a taste. One day he’d devour her but for tonight just a taste would do.

“Ready love?” He lines himself up at her entrance, the anticipation for this moment was well worth the wait. To see his girl naked underneath him is an image that’d be burned into his mind forever.

“I’ve always been ready for this.” She kissed at his neck, pulling away to watch as he sank himself into her. They both let out an airy moan, her hands were back in his hair, and his were roaming every inch of her body.

Draco hitched her legs onto his shoulders, his hips setting a fast pace, her moans filling the room. The witch gripped him like a vice, her nails ran down his chest, leaving scratches that would be left as a reminder of this night for the next few days.

Her tits bounced with every deep thrust, (y/n) could feel herself getting close but she wasn’t quite ready for it to be over. Instead she lowered her legs and flipped them over, the new position had her screaming his name.

“Oh, Draco!” She bounced on him faster, eyes never leaving his fascinated ones. He looked at her as is she was the most beautiful girl in the world and in his eyes she is.

Her body was on fire, every time the pretty girl sank down on his cock she felt herself get closer to the edge. The blonde felt her walls begin to flutter, his hands that were situated on her breasts moved so one was toying with her clit and the other was wrapped around her throat.

The combination of her riding him and his hands on her was too much for (y/n), with his encouragement she found herself clenching around him as they came together. Their names leaving each other’s lips as their hips jerked and their vision went white.

“That was better than any dream.” He told her as they caught their breath.

Tag list: message me to be added/removed

@tonksandherpinkhair @fuckingdraco @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lovecatsnotpeople @ccabian @purpleskymalfoy @tonksandhercombatboots @hellounicorn @whattheactualfuckyeet @perfect-storm95 @prongsandprancer @agirlwithpointlessideas @explxsion @tb-ctn @capkatie @dracoxmgg @sydnee-kom-spacekru @slytherinxraven @emomikewazowski @juliannaamonroe @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @t38h @dracoswhore007 @d-malfoytb @daringvixon @missmercurymoon @weaslcyx @raylovessarcasm @xlilsubbyx @amourtentiaa @sahvlren @beiahadid @royalvolturisblog @im-totally-not-dezi @disartrous @futuremrsfelton20 @dlmmdl @rowanthomasknapp @a-malfoy @drabblingdraco @rennaisancebaby @gwlvr

#I finally finished a wip #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco imagine #draco smut

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years ago

Text

Deep End - Three

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Manipulation, Anxiety

Word Count: 2.6K

A/n: Part three nowwww. I hope you guys enjoy!!! I’m not sure how often I’ll be posting but I hope it’s more frequently than im doing now. Anywho, here you go, and I hope you all have a great night!

Madness Masterlist

Bad Dream Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

The record player in the corner of the spare bedroom plays softly, the soothing voice of Billie Holiday filling your ears as your eyes skim over the room, lips pursed.

Although it isn’t ideal, having a project does make the time go by faster.

Just as you’re deciding where you want the crib to go, soft feet pad into the room, Sarah’s arms coming up to your leg.

“Mommy, why are you in here?” You glance down at her, one hand coming to ruffle her hair.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” She frowns, looking up at you. “Then why are you in here?”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile growing on your face at her sass.

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you, missy?” She nods, putting her hands on her hips proudly.

“Yes, I do.” You roll your eyes, grabbing her hand and ushering her out of the room and down the stairs.

“C’mon. Let’s get you a snack.” Her mind is instantly occupied by what she wants to eat and as you’re rummaging around in the pantry, she’s climbing up onto the barstool.

“Your father should be home in a few hours, then maybe you can convince him to order pizza, just until we go grocery shopping.” You look at the nearly empty pantry with your lips pursed, grabbing some crackers and shaking them onto a plate for you and her to share.

“Why did we move out here with daddy?” She asks, making you freeze for a moment. You flounder for an answer but she shoots out another question, saving you from coming up with an excuse.

“Why didn’t you tell me that daddy was coming to pick us up?” That one you’ve thought about.

“I don’t know, honey. I guess it just never came up. And I didn’t know if or when he would come home from work.” She nods, taking a cracker and chewing it thoughtfully, swallowing before asking another question.

“Why do you look sad whenever daddy’s around?” That one catches you off guard even more than the first one did, and you cough twice, trying to gather your thoughts.

“I-I’m not sad, baby. I’m just trying to get used to living with him again, that’s all.” She hums, seemingly pleased with the answer.

A few minutes of silent eating go by before you find yourself wanting to ask her something.

“Sarah,” you begin, waiting until she looks up at you to continue.

When her sparkling blue eyes meet yours, you lower your voice slightly.

“Do you like living here with your dad?” Her face lights up and you have your answer before she speaks.

“I do! I really like living here and Morgan’s my best friend and I’m happy to have daddy back! And I like that we get to see Aunty Nat more and I like Uncle Bucky too!” You nod slowly, pursing your lips.

“So do you want to stay here, then?” She nods eagerly, a smile on her face.

“I really do! I love it here! I’m so happy daddy came to pick us up!” You let out a shaky breath and nod, your one chance at leaving being crushed.

Steve treats his daughter right and she’s happy here. You can’t very well take away her happiness and replace it with longing and instability. Not when she’s been your pillar during those four years away from Him.

She deserves some semblance of peace. And you’re willing to sacrifice yours if it means that she can get hers.

~*~

“Daddy!” Sarah runs to the front door and intercepts her father as soon as she can see him, jumping up into his arms excitedly.

“Hi, baby!” He hugs her tightly, transferring her to one arm effortlessly and walking into the house.

“How was your day at school?” He asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“It was good! Can we get pizza for dinner?” He raises his brows, eyes fluttering around the house in search of you.

“Well, we’re gonna have to ask your mom about that, okay?” She nods, shimmying out of his grip and up the stairs.

He sets his work bag down on the counter, following the little blond girl up the stairs and smiling when he sees you in the spare bedroom, a look of concentration on your face and a pretty blue dress on your figure.

“Hi, honey,” he whispers, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“Hi,” you murmur, trying to remember the measurements of the dresser as you inspect the bedroom.

“Pizza!” Sarah exclaims, tugging on the bottom of your dress.

“Oh yeah.” You turn around to face Steve, eyes meeting his for a brief moment before falling to his shoulder.

“Could we order pizza tonight? W-we don’t have much for groceries but I can make a list and we could pick some up tomorrow morning? I just- it’s Friday and b-before...” you take a deep breath, fighting tears as memories of life before start to fill your mind.

“Hey, Sarah? Could you do me a favour please, princess?” Steve glances down at his daughter, sensing that this may be a conversation best had in privacy.

“Yes, daddy?”

“Could you go downstairs and see if there are any snacks that we have that you want? Or any that you want us to buy for you?” She nods eagerly, running out of the room and down the stairs, leaving you alone with her father.

You take another deep breath then explain yourself in depth.

“Friday’s used to be pizza night for her and me. We’d order pizza and watch a movie. Nat or... or my dad would come over too but... we haven’t had a pizza night since coming here and I think it would bring her more comfort and more normality.” He eyes you for a moment.

“It would bring her that or you that?” You swallow hard, eyes cast down to the floor.

“Either answer is valid, darling. I want you to be happy here and if we need to make pizza Friday’s a thing, then we’ll make them a thing. I just want the two of you to be happy and healthy, okay?” You sniffle then nod, your bottom lip wobbling as anxiety courses through your veins.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You squeeze your eyes shut as a tear slides down your cheek.

“I-I’m scared,” you whisper, terrified to confess this but knowing he won’t do anything with Sarah so close by.

“Of what?” He asks gently, trying to coax it out of you.

“Of you.” His fingers stop their tracing on your waist and he stiffens.

“I-I don’t want you to hurt me. And I know I can’t leave. I can’t run b-because I tried once and you found me. And Sarah loves it here and I don’t want to deprive her of that, of you, but I’m so terrified of you.” He’s quiet for a long moment before wrapping you up in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers. He’s not angry like you thought he’d be. No, he’s supportive and gentle, and you feel more tears fall from your eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Not like I did before. I love you, (Y/n). And I need you. Sarah needs you. I’d never...” He trails off, swallowing hard and shaking his head.

“You’re mine. I want you to do things a certain way, yes, but I’m not going to hurt you the way that I did before, okay? As long as you stay here and you behave. You've done pretty well so far, but I know it’s gonna take time. I just hope that when the baby comes you don't go back to your old ways.” His hand finds your tummy, rubbing gently.

“I’m all alone during the day, Steve. I don’t have any friends o-or any family. You’ve got me locked in this big house all day and I can’t even access the cutlery. It’s hard not to feel like a prisoner when you treat me like one.” Anger flashes across his features for a moment and you tug away from him.

“Just like it’s gonna take you some time to trust me again, it’s gonna take me time to trust you. You’ve hurt me before, (Y/n). A lot. I told you that I won’t treat you the way I did at first and I mean that, but if you even try to take my daughter from me, I’ll stop you. I’ll use whatever force necessary.” You swallow hard and nod, your fingers trembling.

“Now, you go make a list with Sarah while I shower. When I’m finished we’ll order pizza and watch a movie, okay?” You nod again, this one more reluctant.

You go to move past him but his hand grips your wrist, halting you.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’ll do anything to keep you in my life. But you know that already, don’t you?” You glance over at him, the fire in his eyes making your heart race in your chest.

“Mommy! Is applesauce in the fridge?” Sarah’s voice saves you from having to answer, and you hurry down the stairs.

Steve stands in the spare bedroom, thoughts filling his mind, a deep voice whispering that you need to be punished.

He shakes the thought from his mind and walks to his bedroom, ready to take a shower then relax with his family.

~*~

Beauty and the Beast plays softly on the TV, two almost empty pizza boxes are on the coffee table and the three of you are on the couch.

You’re curled up against his side, if only to be able to watch as your daughter sleeps peacefully in his lap, her mouth open and soft snores falling from her lips.

You’re not sure what comes over you, whether it be fear from your conversation earlier or you wanting to get on his good side, but you speak.

“She says she loves being here, living with you and going to school with Morgan,” you whisper, your eyes trained on your daughter as Steve looks over at you.

“She uh, she wants to stay, more than anything in the world. And even if I had the option, I don’t think I’d take her from here. I... I couldn’t do something like that to her.” Your eyes slowly meet Steve’s and he smiles softly, understanding the meaning behind your words.

You wouldn’t leave him even if you could.

“I’m glad. I love having you both here. Everything’s been so much better since you guys have been back in my life.” You take a deep breath then turn back to the tv, leaning your head against his shoulder slowly.

His arm winds around your figure, hugging you closer to him with a smile.

“It’s all going to be okay, honey. I promise. Everything will be okay.”

~*~

The weeks pass in a blur of dresses, cooking, and reading.

Every day is so much the same that it’s become painful. You’d kill for a new book, a job, fuck, even a better project than the one you have now.

“Well why don’t you order the furniture?” Steve asks when you bring it up to him one Sunday morning.

“I... I don't wanna order anything until we know for sure that I’m pregnant.”

He knows that if you aren’t pregnant already, you will be within a few days. The fertility pills he’s been giving you should’ve already taken effect, but if not he’s more than willing to keep trying for a baby.

“And I don’t wanna pick out colours or anything yet, and if we get the furniture now we’re just gonna have to move it when we paint the room, so it seems like the least logical thing to do,” you explain, fingers twisting around your mug of tea.

“I think it’s prime time to start planting. You could start a little garden out back? Give you something to take care of and whatnot,” he suggests, watching as you purse your lips.

It would be nice to have fresh vegetables and flowers. And getting dirty’s never really bothered you.

“Alright. But I don’t know what grows well out here. Back... where we were before, we could grow lots of things. I don’t know what flourishes out here.” He walks around the kitchen island and takes your hand, leading you to the couch.

“We’ll look it up, and then I’ll grab some seed and you can start the garden tomorrow. How’s that sound?” You nod, sitting down beside him.

“Could you maybe pick up some books on gardening too? I’m not the best and I want this to turn out well.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Of course, anything for you, honey.”

True to his word, Steve provides you with seeds, gardening supplies, and multiple books on gardening.

You start your garden the very next day, spending hours outside in the sun, trying to get your little garden to look like the ones in the pictures.

It takes all week to get it going properly, but you’re proud of your work, bringing Sarah out after school on friday and showing her all the different plants that will grow.

Now you’re sitting at the dining room table, soft music playing while your fingers fidget anxiously and your mind flutters to your daughter.

“She’s alright, darling. Tony and Pepper will take good care of her, I promise. And they know to call at the first sign of trouble.” You take a deep breath and nod, pushing the food on your plate around with your fork as anxiety courses through you.

It’s your baby girl’s first sleepover.

“I just... I’ve never really been away from her. Every night we read a bedtime story and she gives me a hug and two kisses goodnight. What if she has a nightmare, Steve? W-what if she wakes up and she’s scared because she doesn’t know where she is o-or where we are? What if-”

“Honey,” he cuts you off, a gentle smile on his face.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise. This is just as good for you as it is for her. You’ve got separation anxiety. But it’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” You take a couple more deep breaths, fighting tears.

You miss your daughter.

“Stand up,” Steve orders.

Your eyes flash up to him, nervous for a completely new reason now as you slowly rise to your feet.

He walks around the table, eyes unreadable until he stands in front of you.

The record player whispers Paul Anka, and for a moment that’s all you can hear is the sound of his voice singing out softly.

Steve takes one of your hands gently in his, the other hand finding your waist and tugging you softly against his body.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs. It’s not a command like you thought it would be, no. It’s a request.

A hardly whispered plea for you to dance with him, and you don’t have it in you to deny him.

You’re tense as you nod your agreement, shoulders tight and back stiff as he slowly starts to sway the two of you to the music.

His hand is so gentle on the small of your back, holding you so tenderly that you can’t help but relax in his hold, your tense muscles loosening up.

You slowly lean your head against his chest, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of being held so softly by him.

He lets out a small breath of relief, a smile tugging at his lips as he hugs you even closer to his body, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before his chin rests atop it, his own eyes fluttering closed.

He leads the dance, and for a beautifully perfect moment, you feel comfortable and at home in his arms.

#Steve Rogers x reader #dark Steve Rogers x reader #steve x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic #bucky x reader #Steve rogers x reader Dark!fic #stucky x reader dark fic #Steve Rogers/reader dark fic #Steve Rogers/reader #Steve Rogers/you #dark fic #tw dark themes

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waatermelon-sugaar · 4 years ago

Text

Take Care of Me

Pairing = Santiago x reader

Words = 5.5k

Summary = A discussion about sex toys turns into something more … concrete

Warnings = Swearing, talk/description of mild anxiety. SMUT (18+ only), use of handcuffs in a sexy way, oral, piv sex

A/N = Prompt no.8 requested by @itspdameronthings as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself” w/santi and bolded in text. Also 3 things; 1 = Tom doesn’t exist in this AU, 2 = this is basically pure smut im so sorry, and 3 = I did do head hopping in this, which I know you’re not like supposed to do but also fuck the rules y’know?

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

It’s always easy to be loose after one of Benny’s fights.

It’s a heady mix of adrenaline, beer and testosterone, swirling together into a mix that makes you forget your normal boundaries. You’re normally quite brazen about your sex life anyway, but there is a line. You respect your partners, and there’s no need for your teammates to know too much.

You’re all packed into a half-moon booth, Benny straddling a chair that he pulled up to the table after he spent too long chatting up the bartender.

It’s a small comment from Benny (because of course it’s Benny), saying that you haven’t got laid in a while, and you’re honestly surprised he noticed. But then, that’s the only predictable thing about Benny, that he is unpredictable.

Your surprise means you take a little too long actually thinking about it, which confirms Benny’s statement. You lean back a little in your seat, desperately ignoring Santi, who’s sat to your left. It also means you bite back a little harder in defence.

“Well maybe if you guys didn’t look like you’re about to murder anyone who even dares ask for my number maybe I’d have better luck.” That’s a lie, but there’s no way you’re going to tell them the truth. No way you’re going to tell Santi-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Will, sat to your right. “So you’re asking for our help?”

You scoff, hitting him up the head. “No, thank you.” Will knows why. Because of course he does. One of your oldest friends, he’d been the one who convinced you to join the team in the first place. “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

You send a wink down to the table to Benny, who’s the first to catch on, hollering, and you try not to react to Santi leaning forward, suddenly interested, as though you’re not already hyper-aware of every body movement of his.

You continue, deciding you’re quite enjoying the effect you’ve had. “What do I need some stranger for when I can give myself a better orgasm than he could ever dream of?” You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin, as both Benny and Will holler, gaining a few glares from the pub’s other patrons.

That sip means you’re unprepared for Santi to lean in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his breath. “Maybe ‘stranger’ is where you’re going wrong.”

You swallow, unprepared for the sudden flare of attraction shooting through you and turning your head, just as he says, “I could take care of you.”

You catch a glimpse of Santi’s fuck me eyes when Benny (the dickhead) interrupts. Crossing his arms on the sticky table in front of him, he asks, “Does that mean you have toys?”

Frankie’s hat somehow tips lower on his head, if that’s possible.

Will twitches towards his brother, like he wants to strangle Benny for being so uncouth, but you put your hand on his upper arm. “Of course.” The best course of action is to just act like this is normal, so add a bit of air to your voice. This was normal. “Who doesn’t?”

There’s a blush rising on Benny’s cheeks and you can’t help but stoke it, grinning at him, and attempting your best bedroom eyes. He’s still not too ashamed to ask though. “What kinds?”

Will decides he’s had enough, glancing at Santi behind you with a frown and hitting Benny over the head in an imitation of the way you’d hit him. You laugh, unexpectedly pleased at the reaction you’ve gotten. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Benny nods, eager, even as Will stands, grabbing a hold of him, and steering him towards the bar. “Yes! Yes I would!” He manages to throw back at you and you laugh again, twisting your body to face Santi and Frankie, bringing your left leg onto the bench.

***

Meanwhile Santiago is in hell. He’s been in multiple hellish situations before, most similar to this one, in that it was always the 5 of you, bullets flying around your heads, rifles in your arms, weighed down by heat and sweat and tac vests.

And yet somehow, he thinks this might be the worst. Your foot next to his thigh, your knee bent, pulling your jeans up your leg and exposing your ankle to him. Watching you flirt with Benny, talking about sex, and toys, and masturbation. When that's all he wants to do with you. He just has to get the courage to tell you.

With you, there was a before in Santi’s life, and an after.

Before he knew you; and after he knew you.

Before he loved you; and after he loved you.

Except Santi’s not quite sure when he fell in love with you.

It started when Will introduced you as the newest member of the team, one of his childhood friends. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he treated you like he treated anyone else, quickly discovering that you weren’t like anyone else.

He welcomed you into his life with open arms, starting off innocently - he wanted to spend time with you. You were Will’s friend, which meant that there must be something good about you. You made him laugh, made him feel safe (even when he wasn’t). He’d wanted to do the same for you and thought he did a pretty good job.

He became your friend, until one day the two of you were watching a film. He can’t remember what it was, just that you were at his house, drinking and laughing and talking, huddled in one of his blankets, and looking like you belonged there, forever.

Falling in love with you was so easy, Santi didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Santi’s still impressed with himself that he didn’t just blurt out the words then and there. I love you.

How long had he been in love with you for? He couldn’t pinpoint down a specific moment. He remembered the night when you’d become friends - the last two around the bonfire, toasting marshmallows, making that awkward small-talk that occurs between acquaintances.

You’d made him laugh, playing chubby-bunny and teasing him until he’d had a go. You’d talked and talked, and Santi can’t even remember what about. Nothing, probably. The basics. Boring stuff, but filled with details that he’d used to keep the conversation going the next day.

He knows when he became your friend. Recognised when you trusted him more than the others, with the exception of maybe Will.

But he didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Just the day that the love became so overwhelming in his chest that he realised it.

The real nail in his metaphorical coffin was the night afterwards. The 5 of you had gone to a bar, and a girl had started talking to him as he was buying drinks. She was pretty, but she wasn’t you. And like a flashbulb, all of Santi’s previous partners flew through his mind and he realised that nothing had ever come out of them because they weren’t you.

They didn’t know how he liked his coffee, or why he had joined the military. They didn’t know the story behind his callsign, or what his favourite song was.

You did. What you weren’t there for, you asked about. You remembered. You made him feel important, like he mattered. In ways that he didn’t even really know existed.

You were the one that started him on decaf without telling him. That had been a conversation and a half. Before morning briefings, you’d started bringing him coffees. He hadn’t noticed much of a taste difference, and shamefully, had come to expect them.

Until, a month later, you weren’t there. A small trip home to visit your family, everyone knew you’d be back in a couple of days. Regardless, Santi had ordered what he’d thought was his usual coffee.

And found his anxiety rearing up again. It was subtle, making him more jumpy, less able to sleep, but it was there. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, definitely hadn’t linked it to the coffee, instead assuming that maybe he just missed you. Maybe because his anxiety hadn’t disappeared all the way, even with decaf. Maybe it was because it was your presence that helped him too.

He hadn’t even really noticed when the caffeine was gone, hadn’t noticed the absence of something wrong, only seeing the contrast when it returned. Maybe because it was gradual, the weaning off the caffeinated coffee, whereas the return, with his request of additional shot, had been too sharp for him.

You hadn’t noticed at first, assuming that Santi’s bear hug when he’d first seen you had just been because he missed you. But after lunch you pulled him to one side.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes are slightly wider with worry, and you’re chewing slightly on your bottom lip.

He hates that he’s the one to do that to you, and he tries to brush it off. “I’m fine.” That was his first mistake. His second was trying to push past you.

“Santiago!” He’s pulled up short, and there’s that tension, pulling at his shoulders, his eyebrows. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Your tone of voice hasn’t changed, but this time it’s a command.

Exhausted, hating himself, Santi drags his hands across his face. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t...I don’t know.” He takes a breath, and it shudders through him. “I don’t know.” He sounds defeated, and he hopes you can’t hear it. “I just...I feel…” How does he feel? “Jittery.” Is what he finally settles on, but the word still feels wrong somehow.

You frown, looking him up and down like you’ve never seen him before. In fact, you’re silent for so long, Santi starts to be worried that you’re going to tell him to stop being so fucking ridiculous.

You don’t, but you ask questions.

Has he been sleeping? “Not really.”

Does he have something big coming up? “Just the usual.”

Has his daily routine changed at all? “No, I don’t think so. I get myself a coffee in the morning and the-”

You interrupt him with a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.” And now it’s wrong, because now you’re looking at him like it’s your fault, when it definitely isn’t. “Santi I’m sorry. It’s your coffee.”

Santi frowns. His coffee? And you sound so apologetic, and he doesn’t understand why. “I switched you to decaf.” You can’t meet his eyes any more, gaze skittering to his shoulder with nerves. And you’re not shutting up. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or asked if I could, I just... I knew you were getting nightmares, and decaf helped me so I thought it might help y-”

Santi cuts you off with a hug.

And now, the three of you sat in the booth, he hates himself for agreeing with Benny. He would like to know. He has a sneaking suspicion, odd little comments you’ve made throughout the years that when pieced together, paint a picture. A very vivid picture that he sometimes uses to torture himself, late at night in bed, imagining what you’d look like with your hands between your legs and wrapping a hand around his-

Santi shakes his head. Now is not the time. There’s never really a good time to fantasise about one of your best friends, but in public when they’re sitting next to you, is definitely one of the worst.

And why did he have to offer to take care of you? Did he think he was in some kind of cheesy porno? What if you hated him-

In the end, it’s you who breaks him out of his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed Pope.” You push out with your foot, lightly kicking his thigh, unable to read his stony face.

Throughout all of this, Frankie has kept quiet, and now the conversation seems like it’ll be returning to safer ground, he rubs a hand over his face, lifting his hat slightly. “No.” Santi protests, although he says it too fast for it to be sincere. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Good,” you reply, and Santi can see the moment a thought pops into your head that you can’t resist, he can see it in the way your eyes light up with mischief. “Out of all the boys, I figured you’d be the most likely to use toys.”

Frankie quickly slides out from his seat, muttering something about going to the toilet, his cheeks aflame, as Santi chokes a little on his beer. “Or maybe Will,” you muse, and Santi coughs again. “Shit, are you alright?” You ask, rocking forward to lean on your knee so you can rub Santi’s back for a second.

He concentrates on getting himself back under control, on not focusing how warm your hand is against his back. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart down, praying that the room is dark enough that you won’t see him blush.

Santi nods, his eyes watering a little, and you laugh, but it’s not unkind, not even when one of your thumbs wipes at his lower lash line, brushing away his tears with the pad. It’s so unexpectedly soft, another sharp contrast to this sticky, seedy bar they’re all in, where the booth seats are cracked and the most complicated drink they make is a rum and coke.

“Good,” you say, voice quiet, scooting back on the bench, your foot closer to his thigh this time, and Santi hates himself for wanting to follow you.

Instead, he pretends everyone else is still here, even as he watches Will whisper something into Benny’s ear as they stand, drinking next to the bar, with no clear intention of returning. Suddenly Benny punches Will’s upper arm, and Santi’s eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion. Benny looks ecstatic, and for what?

“I’ve used handcuffs,” he says casually, half of his mind taken up with Benny and Will acting like lunatics at the bar behind you. He’s wrenched back to you when you raise an eyebrow, and he’s reminded what it feels like to be the centre of your world.

Fuck, you’re sexy though.

***

Your heart beat speeds up, suddenly sounding loud in your chest. Your mind is screaming Danger! at you - but how can it be? This is Santiago. You would trust him with your life. You have.

I could take care of you, flashes through your mind again. Maybe-

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to act calm when there’s a steady thrumming under your skin. “And are you the tied up person, or do you do the tying?”

Santi scoffs, like he thinks the answer is obvious. Maybe it is.

“I do the tying.”

You smirk, dragging an exaggerated eye up and down his body. “Sure about that?”

He looks relaxed, like he can take up more space now Frankie has gone. One of his hands is on your calf, gently trailing up and down, slowly setting you on fire, and you don’t even think he realises he’s doing it. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t recognise, darker, although it seems familiar. That’s been happening more and more lately, especially when it’s just the two of you. You like it.

“You want to test me babygirl?”

You feel breathless. “Maybe I’d like to try.”

You’ve never spoken with Santi like this before. You flirt with him more than the other boys, but this is new. This feels...real, somehow. More dangerous. And he’s closer now, shifting, so your foot is over his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, on your bare skin and you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You watch his hand move on your leg and you feel like you could evaporate.

“That’s not what good girls do.” Fuck, his voice.

“Good girls don’t do a lot of things I do.”

And you’re not sure what gives you the sudden confidence, but you lean forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. It’s a horrible angle, your legs in the way, but you don’t care.

And then you’re retreating, opening your eyes again, suddenly unsure of what you’ve just done. Your mouth feels tingly, where you can still feel Santi against you. His grip has tightened on your leg, no longer moving.

And then his hand is tugging at you a little, and there’s a smile threatening to take over his face.

Come here.

You scoot up, so your left leg is fully over him, your right leg tangling with his under the table and you can smell him now, beer and - as weird as it sounds - like a man. It’s familiar. Nice. Breathless, you shoot him a little grin, suddenly unsure.

And then he’s kissing you again and it’s everything you ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, but firm, moving against your mouth, contrasting with the slight stubble growing on his face. His free hand moves to your waist and you let out a small sound.

You break apart after a second, both of you breathless. You’ve slung your arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his chain, and you’re the first to speak.

“So do you use those handcuffs on anyone?”

Santi kisses you again, short and sweet, before he answers, his lips mumbling against yours. “Hmm, just on girls I really like.”

You kiss again, neither of you really wanting to stop. “Can I use them on you?” Santi asks, moving to kiss along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. You feel surrounded by him, he’s all you care about, all you can feel.

Your eyes snap open, desire pooling in your belly. Is this really happening? “Yes.”

“Good.” Santi’s voice is still low in your ear, before he moves down your neck, soft lips a stark contrast to his stubble catching on your skin. “How do you feel about a date, too?”

“Yeah?” You lean back slightly so you can see his face. He’s beautiful in this light, face half hidden in the shadows, eyes dark.

His lips are brushing yours again.

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice, do it properly.”

“Good,” you mumble against him, “that sounds really good.” Your fingers are still playing with his chain, lightly brushing against the scar on his neck. “Shall we go?”

Before you know it, the two of you are sitting in a cab, having said a quick goodbye to the others, Will asking if it was safe for them to sit back in the booth. You’d responded with the finger, not bothering with a proper reply.

Santi leans over to you, whispering into your ear. “Can I really tie you up?”

You clench your thighs together, closing your eyes in an effort not to physically respond. The pause is enough for Santi to hesitate, hand shyly holding yours. “It’s ok, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, it was just a-”

You stop him with a kiss, moving your hand so you can squeeze him in reassurance. When you answer, it’s a mumble against his mouth so the driver doesn’t hear. “Break out the handcuffs, and we’ll see if you’re as tough as you act, big boy.”

Santi groans when you lean away from him.

Getting inside Santi’s flat is a feat in itself, and you’re honestly a little proud of the restraint both of you showed by not fucking in the stairwell, stopping every couple of meters to kiss each other senseless, hips clumsily knocking together as you rile each other up.

You’ve been inside his flat before, so when Santi kicks the door closed, walking you backwards into his bedroom, kissing you all the while, you don’t protest. It’s so nice to finally kiss Santi like you’ve wanted to for a while now, so nice to feel his hands on your waist, pushing you backwards while his hips press into yours, steady now, purposeful.

His fingers are playing with the waist of your trousers, and you help him, shimmying your jeans off, pushing them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor. Then he surprises you, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your knickers down your legs.

Looking down, you feel dizzy from the rush of power this brings you. Santi looks like he’s about to worship you, his face close to your pussy. His hands are on your waist and he pushes at you, encouraging you to step back.

When you don’t he tips his head back, exposing his neck to you. “Step back.” His voice is dangerous and you can feel more wetness gathering between your legs. You grin down at him, still not moving.

In response Santi nips at your thigh, grinning when you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He pushes at you again, and this time you let him, stepping back until you hit his bed, sitting down.

Santi presses his hand against your stomach, and you allow yourself to be pushed back, falling back onto your elbows so you can watch him. He presses his nose to your mound and you squirm, impatient, as Santi spreads your knees so he can fit between your legs.

You watch him press his nose to your pussy, burying his nose in you, feeling yourself grow wetter. “You taste so good,” he groans, “Sweetest pussy I’ve tasted.” As he begins to explore you with his tongue, your hips lift off the bed with a groan and it takes you a second to recognise your own voice, broken with need. Santi’s arm reaches out, pressing you down as he explores your folds. Stubble is scratching your thighs, a pleasantly rough feeling compared to the soft wetness, the pliability of Santi’s tongue. Your clit is the first thing he concentrates on, his tongue practically lapping at you, and it all feels so good.

One hand is desperately fisting the sheets to the side of you as you try to hold on to reality, the other knotted in Santi’s short curls, nails scraping ever so slightly along his scalp even as he lifts you higher and higher. Broken pleas of his name fall from your lips when he inserts two fingers into you, gently pumping in and out, with a strangely satisfying squelch under your cries.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and unsuspecting. One second your chest is heaving, breaths short and shallow, the next you’ve tensed up as you fall apart under Santi.

He keeps kissing you, gently pressing his lips over your thighs, hips, stomach as you stare at his ceiling, willing rational thought to return to you. He’s murmuring praises into your skin, telling you how good you are for him, what a good job you’ve done, how pretty you look when you come, how he wants to make you do it again, and all the while you float somewhere above your body, hardly daring to believe this is real. Santi keeps kissing you, any skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to keep tasting you. Gradually he moves up your body, even as you lie there, panting, letting him push your top up, bunching under your arms and around your neck.

Your hands fly to his hair when he bites the soft skin of your breast peeking out from your bra, and you arch your back towards him slightly, letting out a small whine. You can feel his smirk against you, so you wrap your legs around his waist, canting your hips up, grinding against where you can feel him, hard and aching in his jeans.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, slow and lazy when Santi lets out a low growl in response. He tips his head up so he can look at you, his eyes soft as he smiles at you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

And then his body weight is gone and he’s standing next to the bed, taking his top off and it’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, of course it isn’t, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him and been allowed to look, and Santi’s all shadows and soft muscle, pale scars highlighted on his skin.

You sit up, and it takes you a second to fight your way out of your top, quickly sliding the straps of your bra off, and dropping your clothes to the side of the bed as you watch Santi cross his room, and fish out a pair of handcuffs from a box with a couple of other objects inside, as well as what you’re pretty sure looks like a strap-on. And maybe it’s because his ass is currently in your eye-line, maybe it’s the surprise, but the image of you wearing it, teasing Santi with your dick while he waits on all fours on his bed, begging for you to touch him, suddenly pops into your head, and you have to work to hold back a moan at the mental image. Oh my god.

When Santi turns back to you, he’s opened the cuffs. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

You suddenly feel nervous, your mouth dry, and you don’t know why, this is Santi. He’s made it clear that you don’t have to do this, and anyway you want to. “Green is good, orange is slow down, red is stop,” you recite easily, and Santi nods in satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he says and his words hit deep in your stomach, unfurling something you hadn’t known existed. “You say something and I’ll untie you.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back on your hands, eyeing up the way Santi’s jeans are still on, now hanging low on his hips, exposing a small trail of hair down from his bellybutton. “What if I don’t want you to untie me?” You ask.

You can see how his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move. “Tell me you understand,” he says, voice stern and you shiver.

“I understand,” you parrot. Santi nods, pleased at you doing as he says, and steps out of his jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time, releasing his cock. He’s hard, curving up towards his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

Almost on instinct, you lean forwards to lick it off, and Santi lets out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your mouth just wrapping around his head, your hands on his thighs. Before you can take him any further, he’s stepping back, shaking his head.

“Lie back,” he instructs, and you obey. Santi kneels next to you, tugging your wrists up, above your head, looping the handcuffs through his headboard and clicking them on around you. You give them an experimental tug, biting back a moan when they hold fast. “Colour?” Santi asks, and you grin up at him.

“Green.” Your voice already sounds broken. “Santi, please.”

Santi just kneels back, looking at you with those hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, hands running up and down your body, ignoring how you squirm as best you can under him.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Why don’t you come down here then, instead of just watching me?” Santi’s hands reach your breasts, squeezing and gently massaging and you arch your back towards him.

“You’re unhappy with my hands?” Santi returns, and stops touching you. You can’t help it, letting out a whine and straining to move your arms towards him, before remembering you can’t, your attempted movement jangling the chain a little.

“No, Santi,” you’re desperate for him to touch you again, especially now you can’t touch him,“Santi please, touch me again, touch me more.” Begging has never come so easily to you. And then Santi’s moving between your legs, gripping your hips and thrusting up, but not into you, just along your folds. You moan, shifting as best as you can while Santi coats himself with your slick, the head of his cock just pushing your clit, teasing you and riling you up further.

You suddenly really want to touch him, to rake your hands through his hair, to scratch your nails down his back, to be able to suck a purple hickey into his skin. You let your head fall back to the bed, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more, desperate for him.

It’s only when you open your mouth in a desperate plea, a whine of his name, “Santi, Santi please,” that he begins to push into you.

Your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, just as Santi begins to talk. “Fuck, baby.” The stretch of him is delicious. “I wanted this for so long.” Now fully seated in you, he rests on his forearms, kissing you softly, first on the forehead, then on your lips. “Colour?” he asks softly.

You nearly cry from how sweet it is, how sweet he is, before responding, a mumble against his lips. “Green.” You feel full, like this is how you’re supposed to feel all the time, this is your base state, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to achieve this specific feeling.

“Good girl,” Santi murmurs and you keen at the praise, feeling insatiable, wanting more, clenching around him. He grins, registering your response. “You liked that? You like being told what a good job you’re doing, how good you feel around me..” he breaks off with a gasp, and your eyes close as Santi begins to move in time with his words, long, slow thrusts as he begins to put you together again, building you up, further and further, his thrusts speeding up gradually, the sound of his dick sliding into your wetness, and the slap of skin-on-skin loud in his room, mixing with your moans.

You lift your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, hooking one of your feet around Santi’s butt. They don’t stay there for long, one of Santi’s arms pushing one leg up your body, hand under your knee as he splits you open. The new angle hits something deeper in you, and you gasp, unable to move and at the mercy of Santiago.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, coming out of nowhere, your lower body suddenly clenching around Santi, arms straining against the handcuffs, as you try in vain to touch him. You tumble through it, muscles spasming as you fall under him. He keeps moving into you as you shudder below him, pulling you through with murmured praise and encouragement as another broken cry leaves your throat.

His thrusts start to get sloppier as he goes faster, losing his rhythm slightly and you can tell he’s near his end. As best you can, you start moving your own hips, grinding up to meet him, words of encouragement slipping past your lips. “Santi, you feel so good, are you gonna fill me up?” You coo, pouting a little, tugging your wrists a little for emphasis. “Please Santi, I want to feel you, come in me, please-”

You stop when Santi snaps his hips once more, with a groan of finality and you can feel his cum inside of you as he holds himself there, his cock pulsing within you. He presses a couple more gentle kisses to your neck before sliding out, and you hiss slightly at the pull on your sensitive folds of your pussy.

He leaves for a second, returning with a key and gently releasing your wrists. “Good girl,” he murmurs, massaging your skin. “You did so good for me.”

He helps you sit up, kissing your cheek before leaving again. This time when he returns, he has a wet rag, and a glass of water, which you take a sip from, not having realised how thirsty you were. He gently dabs the rag on the inside of your thighs first, and the two of you watch in slightly morbid fascination as Santi’s cum leaks out of you onto the rag.

“That’s kinda hot,” you comment idly, wondering if Santi fucked all sense of you.

He only laughs, wiping the mess away and cuddling up next to you. “Do you want me to do it again?” he asks as you lean into his arms, his hands wrapping around your wrists to rub circles into your skin.

“Yes,” you answer, probably too quickly but beyond caring.

“Good.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Santi wants to ask you something, so you twist in his arms, kissing along his shoulder. The act feels small, and innocent somehow, despite your states of undress, as you try to reassure him.

“You were right,” you murmur near his ear, “Stranger was where I was going wrong.”

It takes him a second to piece your reference together, but then he grins, and it’s like he hung the sun in the sky. “Yeah? I took care of you?”

You kiss him again, this time on the lips, biting back your own identical grin. “Yeah.”

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Tags: @fantasticcopeaglepasta

#Santiago x reader #Santiago Garcia x reader #Santiago pope x reader #Santiago pope Garcia x reader #pope x reader #Santiago Garcia #Santiago pope #Santiago pope Garcia #triple frontier #fanfic

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sombreboy · 4 years ago

Text

Mused obsession (5)

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: 10.7k of literal filth ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, my peeps there’s 3 smut scenes in this bring some damn tissues, so much sexual tension, Jimin's praise kink skyrockets, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom!jjk, sub!pjm, blowjob with a brief moment of faux sub!jjk, degrading dirty talk, petnames, Jimin is so good at begging I'm in tears while editing this uff, anal (this is fictional they're ok, jimin loves getting his ass stretched pls use lube irl), Jk has a FAT cock, obsessive behavior, lots of cum in Jimin's ass (like, a lot. several times.), some fluff if you wipe the cum away, fingering in the shower (im sweating), more fucking in the shower, even more cum in Jimin's ass istg he's such a cockhungry slut, a smidge of jealous/possessive jk, more fucking sorry not sorry these men are insatiable once they got a taste of each other, cum eating.

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 ride back to Jungkook’s place was pure torture. Jimin struggled to keep his hand off his throbbing length—the image of the metal rod gliding through the photographer’s smooth and blushed cock head, burned to his memory. Every time he closed his eyes it was like the image imprinted itself on the backs of his eyelids. He didn’t acknowledge the other man until they pulled up to the front of the house.

When the younger man leant across his lap to open the door, he was left no choice but to finally look him in the eyes. Jungkook’s childlike innocence was hardened by coal black pupils that devoured Jimin whole. As he’s naturally wanting to do, Jimin shrinks beneath the other’s gaze and tries to assess exactly what he’s in for.

At this point, Jungkook neither cares for or bothers to ask whether Jimin would like to go to his place or go back to his own house. No, Jimin's home didn't exist anymore. He knew the blonde would blindly follow him, completely caught in his web.

''We're home.'' Jungkook's warm breath hits Jimin's ear before he leans back, allowing him to exit the vehicle, following quickly behind. He caught up to open the door with his gaze growing darker the second it closed behind them, the chime of the electronic lock almost too loud in the tense silence. ''Park Jimin,” he says clearly, sounding more like he simply wants to say his name rather than to get his attention. ''Let me see your tattoo once more, I want to give it a proper look.''

“R-right here?” Jimin looks around the foyer and notices, as per usual, the room is vacant aside from the two of them. “Okay,” he meekly replies, unbuttoning his pants and sliding the fabric midway down his leg, exposing the fire-red petals as they bleed into his thigh. He feels the temperature of the room increase despite the thermostat’s untouched dial. Jungkook’s encroaching presence was more than enough to heat every part of his body, especially his bare legs, which were studied intently by the younger. “Let me see yours too,” he challenges, bravely pushing his pants down to the floor and kicking them off his feet.

“Oh, you want to see.” Jungkook smiles coyly as he steps closer to the elder, getting rid of his shirt within those few seconds to carelessly throw it on the floor; the maid would take care of it later. “I bet there's more than just the tattoo that you want to see, hm?” He cooes while one hand finds Jimin's hip, the other smoothing over the lines of the blonde's tattoo. ''You know what I'd absolutely love, butterfly?'' Jungkook continues as he inches his face closer to Jimin—his gentle yet strong gaze fails to hide the excitement of the idea in his mind, “I haven't taken photos of you in such a long time. And right this second, no artificial light can compete with the sun.”

It’s golden hour. Jungkook is ecstatic over the little things. He thought of this moment all day, taking Jimin to his large balcony and taking the perfect photo to add to his growing collection.

“More photos, hm?” Jimin smiles and leans into Jungkook’s touch, granting him full access, wherever he likes. He takes the opportunity to feel the man’s bare chest as it closes over his small frame.

Safely inside Jungkook’s impressive home, Jimin feels he can truly do whatever he wants. He presses his lips to the fresh arm tattoo, feeling the heat of the healing skin pulsate into his plush pout. The faint taste of rust lingers as he pulls back and wets his lips. The earthy flavor of the other man’s raw artwork is intoxicating—more than he likes to admit. It’s tender and receptive. He almost swears he feels him shudder as he pulls back to look him in the eye.

“Anything you want, sir.”

Jimin surely isn't the innocent angel Jungkook had initially thought that he was, and being around the photographer surely doesn't do much but bring him deeper, down into the perfect level of corruption that Jungkook craves.

"Good boy." Jungkook whispers, his voice a bit shakier than he'd admit. Jimin has a hold on him that he can't quite place. He wants the model for himself only, to spoil in every way possible.

"Come with me." His lips curl up in a playful grin as he roughly grabs Jimin by his wrist, pulling him along as he strides towards the balcony. His free hand reaches out for the camera he'd left on the counter along the way. “Ah, look at the sky,” Kook chimes in awe as they step outside, the golden glow of the sunset providing the perfect filter. “So pretty.”

“It is,” Jimin agrees, not even pretending to admire the view. All he wants is to watch dewy droplets of sweat bead on Jungkook as the setting sun hits him directly.

Jimin steps close enough to kiss, stands on his toes and flattens his tongue against the base of Jungkook’s smooth fawned neck. “Mm,” he moans, gently sucking the moisture from his skin, “watching you get that piercing...” he glides his hand down the front of the man’s pants and feels him, already responsive, stiffening quick, “...you were so brave. I couldn’t look away, it was almost too much. I wanted to taste you so bad, Jeon. Right there in the shop, in front of Namjoon. I wouldn’t have given a fuck.”He breathes his hot wanton breath against Jungkook’s jaw, nipping up to his cherry lips and claiming them in an ardent kiss. “And now you’ve brought me to this balcony, to do what, photograph me?” He steps back and peels his shirt over his head, tossing it on a lounge chair. Then his underwear, until he’s fully exposed on the sunlit balcony, letting the evening glow illuminate his silhouette. He strokes his aching cock with a soft hand and let’s Jungkook watch his every move. “Is this what you expected?”

Jungkook takes a mental note of the quick mention of the elder 'Not giving a fuck' in the same sentence as 'In front of Namjoon'. He'd remember that one, without a doubt.

“More than I could ever imagine,” Jungkook's eyes glue to the delicate movements by Jimin's smaller hand. “So fuckin' pretty.”

Jungkook is genuinely in awe, licking his lips at the show he's given as he fumbles with the camera. There's no way he'd let this kind of imagery slip through the cracks.

“Sit on the ledge, keep touching yourself. If you do really well for me..” He peeks at the blonde through the camera lens. “I'll grant you one wish. A reward of your choice,” he jokes, but his tone has a serious undertone.

He would grant Jimin anything he desired, whether it be jewelry, a car, clothes—he could have it all. But something tells Jungkook that there's something else he'd rather have, something that both of them would rather have. Something that no money can give, only Jeon Jungkook himself. The latter knew very well what the blonde would want, and he ached just imagining his pretty tune begging for it, after doing his absolute best to be a good boy.

Jimin is quick to take direction, hazy with lust but still well-trained. However, it doesn’t take an expert to know where this is all leading. ”A reward of your choice”—Jungkook’s promise repeats itself in his mind. While he’s given the option to choose, there’s only one thing he wants out of this, and that’s to finally feel Jeon Jungkook inside him...with that new piercing.

He leans against the ledge, not feeling brave enough to sit on it fully without the fear of plummeting to the ground. He arches his back and tilts his face so the sunlight bathes his upper body in warm light. It’s as easy as breathing, posing for the photographer, knowing exactly what he likes to see. Shot after shot, Jimin adjusts his posture and shows off a different angle, even more seductive than the last. His hand wraps around his hard cock and strokes with purpose, looking directly into the camera lens as he does so.

“Beautiful,” Jungkook murmurs to himself as the flickering sound of the camera goes off—one of his favorite sounds. Surely, there were other sounds that would top it by the end of tonight's session.

Jungkook's prominent erection strains against the caging fabric. He uncomfortably adjusts, growing annoyed and unzipping to let his pants fall to his hips, still hanging on. It’s somewhat of a relief, but not enough. He isn't used to the new addition of jewelry on his cock, pleasantly rubbing against his boxers everytime he moves. Eventually, he deems he’s had enough content, wanting to indulge in reality as it is, and places the camera on the ledge next to Jimin when he steps close. He positions himself between the elder's spread legs, hands settling on his thighs. He feels the heat radiating off the fresh artwork on Jimin's skin and traces the shape with his fingers.

“As always, your performance is nothing but flawless,” Jungkook breathes against Jimin's plush lips. He’s too beautiful, like an actual angel, and Jungkook is the polar opposite. Darkness, the corrupt devil that wants Jimin as his own personal plaything for all of eternity. “You deserve a reward,” Kook's blunt nails scrape against the sensitive, tattooed skin, surely causing it to sting. “What do you desire?”

The pain of Jungkook’s nails digging into Jimin’s tender broken flesh makes the model shudder. The pleasure mixed with the pain is a welcome feeling. He wants more.

“I’ve been a good boy?” Jimin asks in the sweetest airy voice. He looks at the other man with the most wide and innocent eyes he can muster—lips pouting gently as he speaks. “Anything I desire?”

With a nod from the photographer, Jimin reaches up and tangles his hand in Jungkook’s hair, gripping it roughly and tugging his head down to eye-level. “I think it’s time you got on your knees, puppy.” His cock stiffens impossibly hard at the mere thought of the younger man becoming submissive for him, even if for just a brief moment. “Take me in your mouth and I swear I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jungkook bites back a hissed groan at the tug of his dark curls. Jimins sudden switch into dominance catches the younger by surprise. It isn't terrible, but rather exciting.

Cute, Jungkook thinks. As much as he loves to inflict pain, receiving it is a close second. There’s his kink for tattoos, and the spontaneous piercing was more than enough proof for his masochism.

“Ah, fuck...” Kook curses, but his tone is laced with lust. “Puppy?” he huffs with a small smile, eyes staring down at the elders throbbing length. Okay, he'll play along. “Yes..” his tone changes, softening as his gaze shifts to meet Jimin's. His dark, doe eyes suddenly display need, as if he is indeed a puppy that wants to do well. Jungkook is a great actor, but only because part of him truly does enjoy this dynamic.

He swiftly drops to his knees and smoothes his hands down to settle on Jimin's knees. “Want me to be your little puppy?” Kook licks his lips, inching closer to the blondes painfully hard cock, his hot breath coating the velvety skin.

Jimin is already overcome with arousal and the pleasure of both watching Jungkook between his legs and the feeling of breath fanning over his length, teasing him with the sheer proximity of the younger’s open mouth. “Y-yes sir—I-I mean...” he flounders as he tries to adapt to his temporary role, “...puppy.” He grips Jungkook’s hair even tighter and pulls him forward to forcefully graze the younger’s pout along his leaking tip.

He wishes he held a camera to capture this moment from his point of view so he could watch it over and over. The world of fashion would erupt at the leaked footage of golden boy Jeon Jungkook on his knees, but he wants to keep it all for himself. He releases his grip on Jungkook’s hair and grabs the camera from the ledge beside him. He tries his best to turn it on, but suddenly realizes it’s already recording video.

“Dirty puppy,” Jimin scolds lightly, aiming the camera at Jungkook’s blushed face. He isn’t surprised in the slightest, seeing as how infatuated the recluse raven-haired photographer is with capturing him in precarious positions. “Look at me and part those pretty lips.” He holds his throbbing cock in his hand and rubs the tip over the younger’s pout, coating them in his essence. “Taste how ready I am for you.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in a small, bunny-like smile at Jimin's slip up and the reaction to the camera recording. The blonde never seems to mind his kinks. A small part of Jungkook feels a pinch of hesitation in his body when the camera is suddenly on his face—a very controversial image if it was to ever be released to the public...but, the thrill of it is more arousing than he expects.

“You're so sexy when you tell me what to do.” He coos, mimicking the tone of voice he knows too well from Jimin, familiar with how a sub should sound. Jungkook's eyes sparkle as the rays from the sunset hit his face. He holds intense contact with the lens and presses his flattered tongue on the underside of Jimin's length, slowly dragging his wet muscle upwards, meeting the tip, swirling, collecting precum. A low hum vibrates in his throat—Jimin tastes sweet.

“Fuck—“ Jimin gasps, involuntarily bucking his hips, pushing his shaft shallowly into Jungkook’s mouth. Just locking eyes with the younger man while he tentatively laps is enough to make him shake. It’s unusual handling a camera while feeling the overwhelming heat of Jungkook’s skilled tongue. After a minute, he relaxes and lets the younger take control while he films as best he can.

Jimin thinks this exhilarating feeling must be what Jungkook loves so much when he’s behind the camera. The separation between reality and a curated virtual realm is wholly satisfying to experience. It’s as if the man on the other side isn’t real. He’s too good to be real. Jimin focuses solely on the camera screen and feels blushed each time Jungkook locks eyes with the lens while taking him deeper, teasing him with his innocent gaze while his lips encircle him devilishly.

“Good puppy,” Jimin coos quietly, rocking his hips slowly, begging for more friction.

“Mm?” Jungkook crooks a playful eyebrow at the camera, knowing Jimin's focus was tunnel visioned on him only. His hands mindlessly roams up and down the model’s thighs, using nothing but his mouth to tease the pretty head of Jimin's swollen cock. The photographer is already crumbling, just as easily as when he’s above.

“Ah, hyung…” Kook whines deliberately to test what kind of reaction he'd get, wrapping his plushy lips around the tip to give it a harsh suck.

Jimin curses under his breath and tangles his hand in Jungkook’s messy hair again, pulling him down onto his cock until he gags. The honorific catches him by surprise, not expecting the younger to take on this submissive role with such commitment. It makes Jimin want to push him further, to use him a bit until he snaps.

“F-fuck, Jeon, you’re being such a pretty whore for me.” So pretty. The sun darkens as it dips beneath the horizon and casts pale shadows over his angelic face. “Do you like worshiping my cock?” He gives a few rough thrusts and brushes his tip past Jungkook’s gag reflex until tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “Do you like being treated like this, or would you prefer something we’d both enjoy?”

It’s slowly becoming a bit too much for Jungkook. He is a glutton for pain, but being somebody's whore, or gagging on a cock like some...toy? It’s endurable, and the way Jimin's thighs tremble under his touch tells the younger man that he seems nervous, as he should be. Who wouldn't be cautious while having Jeon Jungkook on his knees?

Screwing his eyes shut while punished by Jimin’s cock, Jungkook forces stray tears to trickle down his cheeks, coughing. It triggers the younger to dig his blunt nails into Jimin's thighs, grazing the latters cock with his teeth as he slowly withdraws his mouth. He keeps the tip between his teeth. It would be so easy to make the model scream, and he would, but not this way.

“Hmm? Something we'd both enjoy?" Jungkook's nails continue to dig, deliberately trying to draw whines from Jimin. “I'm not sure what you mean unless you tell me. I rather enjoy being down here.” He lies with a coy smirk—the doe-eyed gaze now shifts into something more sinister.

Jimin curses again, louder this time and strangled by his throaty moans. Jungkook’s onslaught on his thighs is almost enough pain to distract him from the pressure around his cock. He knew it would be a challenge for the younger man to drop to his knees and submit fully. So, he takes his punishment gladly and begins to shake as he reaches his threshold.

“Shit, Jeon,” he tugs the man’s head off his length with a sharp snap, grazing Jungkook’s teeth along his sensitive tip as it pops out of his mouth. “You know what I want.” He sets the camera aside on the ledge with the wide lens pointing at the two of them. “I-I want you to...” his cheeks flush as his intimidating demeanour fades by the second. He pleads with his dark chestnut eyes, “...fuck me, please.” He glances down at Jungkook’s aching cock and wonders how good it will feel to have that metal barbell brush against his prostate while he gets fucked dumb on the exposed balcony.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to get back up on his feet in between Jimin's spread legs, hands snaking around the elders waist to pull him closer, pressing their erections together. Never has the younger despised a piece of fabric as much as he did now, tugging them down as he bites back an eager moan at the skin-to-skin sensation.

“I know you've wanted it for a while.” Jungkook's breath comes out in heavy huffs, one hand reaching down to stroke himself and Jimin within the same grasp, cocks rubbing together. “I've wanted to shove my fat cock in you since I laid my eyes on you for the first time.” He groans at the memories, so happy that he's gotten this beautiful angel to be his, under his mercy and control. “Do you trust me?” Jungkook suddenly asks, eyes growing more serious beneath a haze of lust, one hand still stroking them both whilst the other snakes around the blonde's waist to hold him close.

Just as he did the first time, Jimin nods, “I trust you.” He rolls his hips to grind his hard cock against Jungkook’s. This is what he only hoped to have since his first interaction with the man. The way he takes control of every situation, and the way he makes Jimin feel...so special makes him weak in the knees. “I-I want your fat cock inside me...” The mounting pleasure of their leaking cocks sliding against one another is just a tease. Jimin spits into his hand and strokes the younger’s length, preparing him to line up at his entrance. He isn’t above begging. The thought of being stretched and claimed by his partner makes Jimin whimper needy moans, desperate to finally feel their bodies connect. “...Please, I need it...”

'I trust you.', 'Please, I need it.' It’s all Jungkook needs to give in to his desires. A low moan slips through his teeth when Jimin's delicate hand strokes his twitching length. It looks even bigger in the blonde’s small grasp, and it drives the younger mad.

“Feel what you do to me?” Jungkook groans into Jimin's ear as he roughly puts his hands behind the blonde's knees, pushing them up and forcing him to lean backwards on the ledge. His grip is firm though, and it keeps him in place with no risk of actually letting Jimin fall from the wide surface. But the knowledge of possibly being able to—having Jimin's life in his hands… It makes Jungkook's cock throb heavily. “I need it too. Need you.” He kisses Jimin's jawline, trailing down to his neck before sucking on the tender tissue as if it was his own personal canvas, all for him to paint with purple and pink bruises.

Slowly, but eagerly, Jungkook uses one hand to properly press his tip against Jimin's tight hole. “You won't be able to think about anything but my fat cock, will you?” Kook adds as he drives his hips forward, finally sinking into the elders tightness that squeezes around him. “Fuck... So tight.”

The pressure of Jungkook’s girth causes Jimin to involuntarily roll his eyes to the back of his head. He opens Jimin up deliciously, pushing his tender piercing deep into his wanting heat.

“I-I,” Jimin whimpers pathetically in his arms, overcome with pleasure and adrenaline. “Jungkook—fuck...” He peeks over his shoulder and tenses at sight of how high up he really is. It adds to the moment, surrendering his entire being to the photographer and laying his whole life on the line. The sheer height is unnerving yet intoxicating. “Deeper, pleaseee. Your cock stretches me so good—shit.” Jimin grabs Jungkook’s biceps and uses them as leverage to rock the younger man’s studded length as deep as he can bare, shaking from the sensation of the heated metal gliding over every ridge of his sensitive tissue.

Jungkook obliges to his wishes and pushes deeper until the bulbous head of his cock lodges inside Jimin's deepest parts. A throaty moan slips through his lips when Jimin's ass clenches down on his length.

“I've dreamed of this for far too long, shit…” He takes a second to get used to the tight warmth, squeezing the blondes flesh between his fingers, hard, before he finally starts to grind his hips into Jimins. "Oh fuck yeah..." he pulls back to look straight at the smaller male, wanting to memorize every single expression he’s able to draw out of him.

”I’ve dreamed of this for so long...” —Jungkook’s words replay in Jimin’s mind while his thighs slap against bare skin, groaning with a new pulse of pleasure. His ring of nerves contracts as he wonders just how long the younger has dreamt of this moment. Weeks? Months? ...years? Jimin cranes his neck to taste Jungkook’s blush-bitten lips, nesting them between his in a feverish and parted exchange, laving his tongue over each other’s.

Is this what he wanted all along? ...Was it everything he hoped for? It certainly is for Jimin. His own cock aches for relief, so incredibly hard and leaking precum.

“Me too,” Jimin confesses through heavy breaths. “Dreamt of you burying this thick cock inside me...christ. I could barely focus at the studio. The tension...mmf...” He chokes back a gasp as the studded mushroom tip sinks deeper. He wets his full lips and holds tight to the taller man, letting him cradle his weight in his arms and move him any way he pleases. He focuses on the erotic stretch of his soft velvety walls as he accommodates the younger’s girth—he’s much bigger than he expected, filling him up completely with barely any room left to maneuver.

“Yeah, that damned studio. I wish I could've had you sooner,” Jungkook confesses mindlessly. His judgement clouds with a haze of lust taking over him. He continuously grinds his hips deeper, stretching out the elders' smooth walls until the glide feels less suffocating. Then he begins to pull out until only the tip is buried inside. “You're mine, Jimin.” Kook possessively nips back at his plush lower lip in between kisses, hands moving from his thick hips to his waist. "My gorgeous little butterfly, I want to be the only one taking your photos...touching you, fucking you.”

“I-I want it...” Jimin’s mind blanks as a wave of euphoric pleasure tears within him. His head rolls to the side and he tries to focus on the moment—on Jungkook. His attention is pulled by the red blink of the recording camera just off to the side. Was the photographer putting on a show, or were his words genuine? He wants to be the only one to fuck him, and...to photograph him? He’s not sure how well his manager would take the news, but the offer is incredibly tempting. Belonging to him, entirely? Putting aside the materialistic items and the glitz and the glam of a public relationship, Jimin feels blazing hot over the idea of being the one object of the man’s desire.

Jimin can’t take it anymore—he reaches down and begins to stroke himself to match the rhythm of Jungkook fucking him deep. “I need you. ...I want you to fill me with your cum.” The pace of his hand on his cock increases as he adoringly looks up and watches sweat glisten on Jungkook’s neck—fluffy black hair dampening and tacking to his forehead.

''It's all yours, Jimin, all yours. Anything you want,'' Jungkook's low words pause as he grunts, his hips maintaining a rougher yet slow pace. ''Everything I can give you, everything I have, it's nothing—it's yours. All I need is for you to be mine.'' He continues, his words barely audible in between his heavy breaths. He means it, he already has it all-- but it’s dull, boring, worthless. All he’s grateful for is that his status brought Jimin to him so easily, the one thing—person that he desired. There isn't a single object Jungkook has ever photographed that was more valuable to him than Park Jimin.

''You need me.'' Jungkook smiles at the elders' whiny words, noting how Jimin's eyes shift to the camera for a short second, licking his lips the moment the attention is back on him. ''You'll always need me, won't you? Tell me.'' It was neither a plea nor a command, but a necessity. With one hand still keeping a hard grip on Jimin's waist, the other reaches down to squeeze Jimin’s hand tight, preventing him from stroking himself. The grasp tightens further, squeezing Jimin's length inbetween their hands—a form of control in the youngers mind, still fucking deep into him. ''Swear it, and I will fuck you full of my cum.''

“Mmf—“ Jimin stifles his groan into Jungkook’s arm as his strong hand holds him tight at the hip. The pressure of the grip makes him tense and release sporadically, causing him to inch his hips forward to try and regain friction. He needs a little more to reach his high, but the feeling of Jungkook’s fat jeweled cock head is dragging against his prostate deliciously, he could probably cum just from the mere thought of it inside him.

“I do, I do, I need you,” Jimin whimpers pathetically. He wants to cum badly but the desire to surrender himself to the photographer supersedes any other. Whether it be for show, impulse or raw passion, Jimin swears with staggered gasps, “I’m all yours, Jungkook. Every bit of me...belongs to you.”

Jungkook glances over at his camera for a split second, his small smirk growing at the blinking red light that greets him. Perfect, he thinks. Now he has everything.

“Perfect,” Jungkook voices out his thoughts in a rumbling groan, removing Jimin's grip to wrap his own tattooed fingers around the latter’s pretty dick, jerking him off without mercy. He pounds harder, faster, deeper into him. “The most gorgeous,” he moans again as frenzied thrusts lose their rhythm. He keeps going, feeling the heat pool in his lower abdomen. “And all mine, gonna fuck you so full of my cum, your body only needs me, shit...!” He throws his head back, lips parting as heavy huffs slip through. Sweat drips down his skin and muscles flex as they're put to hard work. “Gonna cum, f-fuck—say it again Jimin, you’ll see no one else, just me. Say my name.”

Jimin feels small and fragile, precariously balanced on the balcony ledge as Jungkook’s thrusts become sporadic. One false move and he could easily plummet to his death, but he needs to trust. He wants to trust. He’s spent far too long pushing others away to progress his career. It’s tiring. A life without someone has been exhausting, and he’s never felt anything like this before.

He locks in on the younger man’s predatory gaze and gets lost in the intensity of the moment. His heart thumps in his chest faster than the rapid rate in which Jungkook fucks into his sensitive heat. There’s a fire in his feral eyes that makes Jimin think, for just a moment, that perhaps this is moving too fast. But his body is light in Jungkook’s hold, and despite the dangerous circumstance, he feels the safest he’s ever been.

How is that possible?

In a matter of days he’s irrevocably fallen for a stranger—allowed himself to become marked permanently and even begged for more. He doesn’t recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, and if he’s completely honest, he likes it.

“Jungkook, Jungkook,” Jimin pants in a whiney voice, ragged and raw. “I only want you...I want you to own me...ruin me if you want, just—“ He wrenches his eyes shut as his high creeps up and tries to get the words out before Jungkook’s slender hand works him to finish. “Fuck your cum in me, please. I’ve been so good...I need it so bad. Only want to be filled by you.”

Jimin is so good, it has Jungkook foaming at the mouth. There are no other words he could ever imagine wanting to hear more. Actually, that’s a lie...but he'd get there. Jungkook can't handle the way Jimin squeezes around him with such force. It’s as if the blonde's fleshy walls are pleading to be filled with cum, just as much as the man himself wants it. He’s so close, so close...

''Fuck, yes.. You're mine, mine mine!'' Jungkook growls lowly, eyes blown wide with his admiration, his obsession for Jimin. He sloppily snaps his hips into the model’s abused ass, gradually losing the drive he once had. Jungkook feels himself slowly crumble down as he digs deeper into Jimin's clenched insides, desperate to fill him up, desperate to get him to cum too. He keeps a firm grip around Jimin's slick cock, adamant to hurl them both over the edge.

“Cumming,” Is all he manages to cry out—a drawn out, low moan replacing his ability to speak as spurts of white gush into Jimin. “Oh fuck, yeah..” Jungkook keeps his head thrown back as the muscles in his throat strain, adam's apple bobbing heavily in unison with the way his body tenses while disposing of his warm cum into his Jimin. “So good, so fucking good…” He murmurs, eyes closed in bliss. It’s as if he’s in a different world. The darkness gives him the ability to focus solemnly on feeling Jimin's tight ass milk him completely.

Jimin’s aching cock twitches in Jungkook’s grasp as he strokes him rapidly with his own release. Even with eyes closed in blinding pleasure, he can still feel every bulging muscle and pulsing vein in the younger’s arms as his nails dig into them.

“J-Jungkook—cumming for you...” His sweat-slicked abdomen tenses as his orgasm takes hold, causing him to clench sporadically around Jungkook’s spent length, still nested deep within him. “Don’t pull out, don’t—f-uck.” He claws his nails deeper until he feels the skin break beneath them. “Stay inside me, it feels too good...don’t leave yet.” It’s a swirling mixture of gripping bliss and codependence that causes Jimin to nearly sob his needy begs into the younger’s chest.

Jungkook’s fresh piercing drags deliciously against the model’s abused prostate as his high wears thin and his body begins to relax.

“Don’t leave me,” Jimin pleas, pressing his plush lips blindly against any bit of the man’s exposed skin, tasting the salt of his sweat and exertion. “...not yet.”

Jungkook pulls Jimin closer, the clammy skin of their bodies pressing together as he wraps his strong arms around him—pulsating cock still lodged deep inside.

“I'll never leave you,” Jungkook promises, pressing his nose into the damp blonde curls on the crown of Jimin's head. Being connected with his butterfly like this is all he ever wanted. "I'll give you me every day. My cum...my love,” he murmurs, pulling back a bit to grasp Jimin's jaw, guiding him to meet his eyes. “You're mine forever. Okay?” Kook smiles, his toothy grin a contrast of childish joy compared to the fire swirling in his gaze.

Jimin is all his, in every way. Jungkook draws in the blonde by the jaw, kissing his swollen lips softly. A low hum vibrates in the younger's throat, content with the moment. Jimin melts into the kiss, feeling warm and wholly satisfied as Jungkook’s embrace protects him from the night air that slowly wraps around their naked bodies.

“Okay,” Jimin nods with lips still connected. “And you’re mine, Puppy.” He smiles against Jungkook’s lips with a light blush. It’s a bit odd to use the pet name as a genuine term of endearment, but he likes it a lot. It suits the man perfectly—with his sharp bite, innocent gaze and shaggy soft hair.

The sun set. They’re left in the blackness of night with just the thin veil of the moon and twinkling property lights to guide them. He loosens his grip around Jungkook’s arms and lets him slowly withdraw, wincing as the pierced head slides past his ring of nerves. He tenses to keep in the younger’s tacky cum, enjoying the warmth of it inside him. He looks towards the balcony door and back at Jungkook sheepishly. He’s sleepy after the long day, but not ready to crash yet. There’s comfort in this newfound domesticity and he even begins to feel like he’s found a second home. After such an intense scene on the balcony, he can’t resist the desire to remain close and enjoy the evening together.

“Before bed...could you...” His eyes gleam with childish excitement, “Could you teach me how to play Overwatch?” He hates his pathetic defeat in the last round, and while it led to a very eventful night, he needs to prove he can make a comeback.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. ''You want to play Overwatch?'' He asks, even if he clearly heard the question. His smile grows wide, then nods quickly, supporting Jimin by the waist to help him come down from the ledge and on his feet. He thought to carry the model, but is too tired to do so. ''Let's play, but first I think we should take a ahower.''

Jungkook grabs Jimin with one hand, and the camera with the other. Completely unbothered with the scattered clothing and their nudity, he guides Jimin to the bathroom with him and mindlessly stops his recording to begin skimming through it. Perfect, Jungkook thinks, placing the camera on the large sink before turning on the hot shower. He steps inside with Jimin quickly following behind. He sighs in content when the water streams down over their bodies, sweat and other bodily fluids quickly washing down the drain.

“You still got my cum in you?” He asks. With his attention to detail, he realizes he never saw a trace of his spilled cum on the balcony. He steps closer, pressing chests pressing, and snakes his hands around to spread Jimin's cheeks. “Need me to clean it out for you?”

The sudden grasp of Jungkook’s hands on Jimin’s ass makes him jump a little. All that work and the man wants more. It doesn’t seem he could ever get enough.

“Yes,” Jimin replies, barely above a whisper.

The one thing better than feeling Jungkook’s slick cum inside him could be the feeling of It getting fingered out. He has yet to experience the handiwork of the man’s long tattooed fingers. He knows it’ll feel different from his thick cock; slender, yet deft and agile. His pretty length stiffens. His abused prostate aches but the rest of his body is blazing hot and receptive once again. Even after getting fucked hard and ruthlessly, the model is eager to have his tight hole stretched even further. The hot water cascades down his small frame and loosens his muscles to relax for the other man. He inches his ass closer to Jungkook’s ministrations, giving the younger an extra push to do with him as he pleases.

Jungkook hums in approval with the way Jimin hands himself over thoughtlessly. With need, greed, and trust—all at once, giving the younger complete power of his little butterfly.

“Can't have your pretty little ass dripping with my cum all night, can we…” He muses out loud with strong hands twirling Jimin around, firmly pressing him against the tile wall with a flat palm between his shoulder blades. He presses hard, leaving enough room for the model to move his chest away from the cold surface, but tight enough that he’d have trouble breathing. “Or maybe we could…” Jungkook continues, not really expecting any sort of response as his free hand tugs at Jimin's hip, forcing him to arch his back. “Maybe I'll just clean you just to fill you up again.”

Jungkook exhales a shaky breath and sinks his middle finger inside of Jimin, feeling the warmth of his sticky release swirling inside. He presses deeper, forcing the cum to dribble down his hand as the digit takes up all the space.

Jimin’s eyes flutter shut. His tight little ring is sore, but the sting of the stretch feels so good he’s glad the younger is holding him stable against the wall, otherwise he might sink to his knees. The width of Jungkook’s finger fills him deliciously—it’s easy for him to relax further as the digit sinks in deep, forcing the warm cum to slide out and down his thigh.

“J-Jeonnn,” he whines aloud. His needy voice echos off the cold hard tile. He’s not exactly sure what he’s whining for—perhaps something to bite onto. Everything feels too good, all at once—the warmth of the water, the tight press of their bodies, juxtaposed by the chill of the wall. “Your fingers...fuck, Jungkook...” Even still, while he only has one finger inside him, he can’t string together a single coherent thought.

“You like this?” Jungkook's lips curl up into a smile, knowing the answer by the way Jimin shudders and whines under his touch. He shoves his finger in deeper, past the knuckle to slowly massage the elder’s sensitive prostate, forcing more of his cum to dribble out and wash down the drain. “You'll take another, won't you?” He coos, pressing his chest against Jimin's flushed back, teasing soft lips against the blonde's ear. “Want your little hole to always be ready for me.” Jungkook adds a second finger, then a third with some ease from the slick cum coating his digits, pumping them mercilessly into his ass. The wet sounds ricochet off the tiled room. Jungkook presses his body further against Jimin's—the hand that once pushed on the elders back now wraps around his own cock to stroke himself in tandem to the pace of which he fucked his fingers into Jimin. “Fuck, I can't get enough of you.”

The heat of Jungkook’s breath and the tight press of his chest makes Jimin’s body tense with arousal. He can hear the slick sounds of the younger man pleasuring himself as he fucks his long fingers in and out torturously.

“A-are you going to—“ he cuts himself off, realising just how pathetic he would sound, begging for cock once again. But he can feel the brush of Jungkook’s hard length against his ass as he works it steadily with his other hand. It’s too distracting not to think about. “A-are you going to fuck me with your big cock?” He’s never been so needy for anyone, always taking care of himself when the mood strikes. However, he can’t picture a world where he’s alone forever after experiencing the way Jungkook possesses every dip and curve of his body.

Jungkook's lower lip becomes swollen from biting on it so much, eyes widen at Jimin's needy state. The elder seems completely consumed by every touch, and it makes him feel so powerful. Jeon Jungkook knew power. He had it all. But none of it compared to this. Having power of another human being on such a deep level. Jimin needs him, and him only. And right now, all the blonde needs is his cock.

"Yeah." Jungkook simply states. "Gonna fuck you again, and again and again until your insides are shaped for my cock only.” Jungkook withdraws his fingers from Jimin's hole, quickly replacing it with his cock by driving his hips forward, filling up the blonde with one swift motion. A low moan slips past his lips, with one palm flat on the wet tile next to Jimin's head, seeking leverage while the other hand firmly grips his hip.

Jimin’s small hole is gaped and hungry for Jungkook to drive in deep. It’s all he can think about until he’d had it; then, it’s pure gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Fuck me hard, please, pleeease,” the blonde begs in pitchy moans, voice quavering each time Jungkook’s hips slap against his pert ass. He winces as the pace increases without warning. It’s a pleasure in every sense of the word to be used by the photographer like this. He can feel the sting of his fresh tattoo as the hot water hits it between light rubs into the chilled wall. Each time it’s grazed by hot and cold, Jimin is reminded of the permanent claim the younger has on his body, and the matching claim he has over his.

Jimin rolls his hips back onto Jungkook’s cock and shudders as his walls contract around the hot prodding barbell. “Wanna cum just from your cock. Gah—” He rolls his hips faster, rushing to reach his high at an impatient speed. “Use me,” he pants, barely above a whisper as he begins to lose control of his hoarse voice.

"Shit...you're such a slut." Jungkook growls out as his overgrown fringe hangs over his eyes and looks down at the way his cock disappears into Jimin's ass. “Your hole is so greedy—fuck, squeezing and sucking me in like it never wants me to leave." He’s just as greedy, wet skin smacking against Jimin’s, echoing loudly in the room.

Needy for more momentum, the younger takes a step back, pulling Jimin's ass with him in one hand and pushing his back down into a stable position. “Arch your back for me baby."

Jimin does as he’s told without question, just the way his partner likes it. Jungkook places both of his strong hands on Jimins ass cheeks and spreads them to properly see his cock drill in and out. His clawing grasp taints Jimins skin red, fucking into his abused hole with more strength, tugging the boy’s hips back to meet his powerful thrusts.

“A cockslut. Jeon Jungkooks personal little cumdump. That's what you want to be, isn't it? Haa.." Kooks muscles tense up, feeling the heat of his orgasm pool in his lower abdomen. He desperately chases the feeling, paying no mind to Jimin’s aching cock. He'd cum anyway, especially with the way the younger's thick, pierced tip repeatedly jams against his prostate.

Jimin swears his knees could buckle with each new punishing thrust of the younger’s heavy cock. He can already feel his orgasm building as his smaller frame is bent and contorted to be used, walls pulsing around the swollen shaft.

“Yes! Y-yes!” Jimin arches his back deep to grant the other man all the leverage he needs to push in entirely, sinking his reddened tip nice and deep, causing Jimin to drool onto the tiled floor. “I’m a cockslut...I’m your fucking cumdump...”

As he’s fucked dumb Jimin abstains from touching himself. Without looking, he knows he’s painfully hard, dripping pre-cum. “Feel my tight ass gripping you...s-shit—your fat cock stretches me so good.” He peeks over his shoulder and watches Jungkook nip his bottom lip so tight that he’s sure the skin is breaking. Jungkook’s cheeks look hot and dewy from exertion; small beads of combined sweat and water drip down his soaked fringe and trail down his tensed muscles. “Gonna—oh, god...” the blonde strains against Jungkook’s hold and cums untouched, streaking his release down the tile wall, cut off by the younger cursing and stilling within him, so close to pushing every drop into his spent hole. “C-cum in me,” he whines, feeling the younger swell within him as his pitch gets louder. “Please, please, pleaseee.” He locks eyes with Jungkook and loses himself in his dark feral orbs. “Fill me up again...and again—“

Jungkook's eyes remain open, focusing on Jimin's desperate face as he cums, buried to the hilt, ensuring his blonde receives every single drop of what he has to offer. His cock throbs heavily and cum erupts like a volcanic explosion, thick and hot inside. "Oh my god, my little butterfly."

His throaty, strained moan reverberates as he empties himself inside, smoothing his large hands across Jimin's back before wrapping around his torso, pulling him up and holding him close against his flushed chest. A soft kiss on his neck follows before Jungkook pulls himself out with a quiet whine of oversensitivity.

"You're so perfect for me," Jungkook praises, wasting no time in carelessly shoving his fingers inside Jimin to prod the cum out, letting most of it simply dribble out and wash down the drain. “Still down for overwatch? I'm not sleepy…”

Jimin stretches and feels his body become slack with exhaustion. It has been a LONG day. He doesn’t care much for the game himself, but any opportunity to see Jungkook’s childish joy is a coveted one. Plus, he has to get better so he could beat him one day. The man is good at everything, he muses internally, recalling the beautiful photography sets he made just for him. There has to be a weak point somewhere.

“I’ll need one of your bananamilks if I’m going to stay awake much longer,” he yawns, resting against the younger’s side as they walk into the living room. “And then get ready to fight for your life, Jeon,” he smiles. “I won’t go easy on you.”

Jungkook hands Jimin a cozy bathrobe to wear to the living room and opts for boxers for himself. He’s generally warm, and nothing beats sitting in your couch, gaming in only his underwear. Well, maybe being naked, but that'd be cheating if he taunted the blonde with his goods during an Overwatch session.

“Let me get some, you start up the game okay?” Jungkook points towards the large TV as he diverts from their path to go find the fridge. He pulls out a couple bananamilks—more than one is surely going to be needed, at least for him. He shoves a few drinks into his arms as he carries them to the living room, letting them plop down on the glass table in front of the couch. “Alright, drink up, let's do practice rounds first to warm you up.” He grabs a drink for himself and sips on it as he raises a coy eyebrow towards Jimin.

Jimin exhales a big yawn and stretches one arm to the ceiling while the other brings the sweet milk to his lips. He takes a couple gulps and lets the cool liquid swirl along his taste buds, already familiar with the taste, nearly addicted to the artificial flavor.

"Practice rounds?" He blinks up at Jungkook with glassy eyes, snuggling deeper into his fluffy and luxurious robe to get cozy. He sets the sugary drink aside and grips the controller with both hands, ready to try his best. "No bets, this time around," he winks at the younger man, "After I beat you, it's time for bed."

Jungkook fake pouts, slumping down on the couch with his controller in one hand and his drink in the other, chugging it down fast. “One bet. The winner gets backrubs.” He glances over at Jimin with his childish grin, finishing off his milk before starting the game.

"Hmf." Jimin smiles ahead at the tv screen and fiddles with the controller in his hands, already sweating, having lost in his mind. Why did he propose this idea? He must be a glutton for punishment because there is no way he can win against the younger. Yet... "One bet," Jimin emphasizes with one finger, "But if there's backrubs on the line, just know, I will try my best to win." He's overly ambitious. Even when he knows he's complete shit at the game, he can't help but fully commit to everything he does, whether it be a quick round of Overwatch or a spontaneous tattoo.

“Bet you'd love that. I'm great at back rubs,” Jungkook counters, nudging the elders shoulder with his own before he starts the match. “Okay, best out of three. I'm a bit tired.” He admits, rubbing his eye with one hand before grappling at his controller the second the round starts. Kook loves back rubs, but in all honesty, there isn't much else he wants than to be on the giving end in this... He knows he can easily have his way without the bet, but there is this part of him that feels more satisfied if it is earned.

As the match carries on, he shows no mercy on the first round. Second round, he slacks slightly, giving Jimin the illusion of getting better. Actually, he is getting better. Kook can tell Jimin tries really hard, but in the end, he’s still no match compared to the younger. Now Jungkook wants to lose. So, on the last round, he deliberately slacks off and gives his reactions more time as he eventually would be at a disadvantage.

“Damn…” He chuckles as if he wasn't just allowing Jimin to absolutely crush him.

Jimin tucks his lip in concentration, feeling a small bead of sweat trail down his craned neck. He squints his eyes to see the screen clearly—everything is moving so quick he doesn’t fully compute his next move until it’s already made. But his efforts seem to pay off, surprisingly.

“A-am I winning?” he asks, aghast. He can barely believe it, but he isn’t one to argue with a good thing. He haphazardly mashes the buttons on his controller, physically moving it to the motion of his character on the screen. His head tilts to the side to follow the virtual battle until it’s confirmed—he won. He sets down his controller with a shy smile and looks up at Jungkook with puppy eyes. “You’re a good teacher, Jeon. Too good.” He stands from the couch and nods his head towards the direction of the bedroom. “I’m ready for my reward now.”

Jungkook groans in his fake annoyance, throwing the controller to the side as he stands up, quickly wrapping his arms around Jimin only to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom.

“You did well, Jimin-aaaah~'' He draws out the endearing twist to the elders name, knowing it will make him a bit flustered, however, certain he’ll love it.

Jimin is so small, and despite the muscular build, he’s light in Jungkook's arms. The photographer kicks the door closed behind them with his heel, approaching the large bed and gently placing the blonde down on the soft sheets.

“I'm a decent big spoon, just saying.”

“I know,” Jimin smiles, remembering the previous night. Jungkook held him close and breathed heavily in his sleep, utterly dead to the world. It’s as if his presence made the younger sleep deeply, or at least that’s how Jimin likes to remember it.

Jimin touches his own cheeks to feel the heat radiate off them. He’s an absolute puddle after Jungkook said his name. It seems that now it only takes the smallest bit of effort from the younger to make him pliant and soft. With his easy defeat and the way Jungkook happily slung him over his shoulder, Jimin wonders just what’s gotten into him. Must be the sugar rush off the bananamilk, he thinks.

Jimin wriggles out of his robe and crawls under the covers, warming his body within the plush designer material. “I make a great little spoon,” he smiles, contentedly nestled in the warm embrace of the oversized bedding, “...so I’ve been told.”

Jungkook manages to keep his face straight, for the most part. His lips twitches, not so subtly displeased with the sentence, '...so I've been told.’ He’s not surprised that Jimin has likely had many partners in his past, but he will surely be the last.

He joins Jimin underneath the covers and presses his warm skin against the blonde's small back. Kook's hands reach between them, smoothing his palm across the fine, prominent line showcasing Jimin's spine... He thinks that sometime he should get a proper photograph of this visual.

“I'd love to have your back tattooed as well,” Kook adds, not exactly directing his words towards Jimin himself—more so discussing out in the air, all while his hand mindlessly rub up and down, feeling every dent and curve of Jimin's body.

Jimin closes his eyes and enjoys the slow sensation of Jungkook rubbing him, from the wide expanse of his shoulder blades down to the small dip of his lower back. A small moan presses from his lips as the pressure builds around the tensed muscles of his deep tissue, then softens around his delicate spine. It's all the more reason to fall so quick and deep with the photographer. He can be rough and treat Jimin like he isn't a breakable model, then treat him like the most precious and fragile being on earth. He's soft and sweet yet wholly motivated and demanding at times. Perhaps it's his sleepy state of mind, but Jimin instantly nods in agreement, committing to the plan. Even if Jungkook's musing wasn't directed at anyone in particular, he is interested in what exactly the younger has in mind.

"What would you like to mark onto my back?" He asks, rolling his hips gently into the crook of Jungkook's groin.

Jungkook feels his cock twitch at the small sound emitting from Jimin's plushy lips, and the way the elder gently presses against it surely doesn't do anything but spur his erection to awaken. One would say he's insatiable, but truly he's never been this hungry for a person before.

“I would love…” Kook inches his hips closer, making it known that he's already feeling needier by the second. “A snake,” he adds with a low voice. His calloused fingertips trace from Jimin's shoulder down to the dimples on his lower back. “All the way down.” His hand movee to settle on Jimin's hips, softly digging his fingers into his skin to feel how the flesh protrudes between his digits. He presses his hardened cock against the blondes ass as a quiet sigh slips past his lips—the memory of being inside is still fresh on his mind. Seemingly, his cock remembers vividly as well. “I'd love to see it every time I play with you.”

Jimin rolls his hips again, deliberate and tight against Jungkook's hardening length. "Mhm," he hums. "Okay, I'll get it." The mere thought of the man playing with him over and over while his hardened cock grinds against his bare ass makes Jimin's arousal pit in the hollow of his stomach. He melts into the younger's touch as he grips and holds tight to his hips. Less and less, Jimin worries about the repercussions of his actions. If it feels right, he's doing it. The same philosophy goes for his clothing line, and it extends to each new step he takes with the photographer. He reaches between his thighs and palms his aching length, so desperate and needy for more relief. "You can mark me with whatever you want."

"I know." Jungkook breathes into Jimin's neck. Huffs fan against Jimin’s skin, hot and shallow, and hands travel down further to his ass, shamelessly grabbing at the plump cheek. "I will mark every inch of your body one way or the other. You're mine, right?" Kook presses a soft kiss on Jimin's neck, loving the way his body shudders slightly under his simple touch.

"Yes, sir," Jimin breathes, arching his back so his ass is flush with Jungkook's aching shaft. "I'm yours to mark and claim and fuck." At the peak of his desperation, Jimin says whatever comes to mind, paying no mind to how needy he sounds. It's so late and all his body wants is to be impossibly close to the other man, by any means. He wraps his hand around his rock-hard cock and strokes languidly, muffling his pitchy moans into a nearby pillow.

"That's right." Jungkook whispers into Jimin's ear before lightly sucking his earlobe between his teeth, giving it a playful tug. Kook glances down at his clothed cock, aching and staining the fabrics with droplets of his precum. “Fuck...you already got me wet again." He chuckles through a breathy sigh, not hesitating to undress, freeing his heavy length to fall onto Jimin's bare ass. He uses his hands to spread Jimin, just enough to place his cock against the puffy hole, rubbing his entire length between the plump cheeks in a teasing manner. His hips move lazily with no care to how needy his own sleepy, raspy groans must sound. "I'm gonna fuck you again. I'm sure your little hole doesn't need any preparation this time, no?"

Jimin shakes his head; face buried deep in the soft pillow. He quickens his pace, stroking his throbbing cock as Jungkook lines himself up and prods his glistening tip at his entrance. Without much coaxing, the younger slips inside, using the glide of his precum to ease in and out with shallow prods. Jimin's mouth falls open as he tries to compose his thoughts, but the words fall out into the open as filthy little confessions, telling the younger exactly how he'd like to be used.

"Fuck me slow...and deep. Please." He whimpers into the pillow, clutching it desperately in his free hand while the other works his own precum over his reddened tip, teasing the receptive head of his cock while Jungkook plays with his ass. The soreness from earlier has completely subsided. All he feels is an overwhelming desire to be connected to Jungkook at all times; to be insatiable, together. "Cum in me. I'll keep it warm—fuck..." His breaths become uneven and labored as he strokes his hand down his shaft in a smooth motion. "...fill my ass. Wanna feel you inside me while I sleep."

Jungkook adores Jimin's filthy mouth. The more riled up the blonde gets, the filthier his language becomes; needy, begging and whiny… He doesn't say anything, but responds with actions. He grasps Jimin's leg and lifts it up slightly to grant himself access, slowly thrusting himself in deeper—jewelry on his swollen tip grazing the deepest parts with ease. His other hand is used as a cushion for his head as he lays on his side, hand tugging at the back of Jimin's curls to bring his ear closer to his lips.

"You may keep fucking your hand all you want, but be wise with your orgasm.'' Jungkook moans when he feels Jimin's ass clench around cock, moving in and out of him at a tortuously slow pace. ''But I won't stop if you cum too fast into your pretty little hand...fuck...I can fall asleep like this, cock buried in you, using you like my own little cockwarmer." He let go of Jimin's hair, laying his head down comfortably on the pillow as he hookw the elders leg over his hip, lazily grinding his hips into his ass, low breathy moans taking over his ability, or want, to speak.

"But Jungkookieee," Jimin whimpers aloud, unable to reel in the tone of his voice once the younger man slowly drags his thick cock in and out of his tight hole torturously slow. The fresh piercing glides against his velvet walls and teases his sensitive prostate; swollen and throbbing from overuse. Jimin pumps his dick occasionally but temporarily refrains from going too fast out of fear he might cum too soon. He was already so close when Jungkook entered him that he could cum just from the delicious stretch.

"Mmf--" Jimin muffles his needy noises into the pillow and focuses on their connection, hot breath and sinful praises falling from Jungkook's cherry lips as he melds their bodies together with a gentle roll of his hips. "G-gonna..." He smothers his face in the pillow and starts to stroke himself when the pleasure becomes too much to bear. "Gonna cum around your cock...Gonna—ahh—" He loses his composure and shakily shoots his release into his small hand, smearing the fluid messily as he clenches, then lets go of everything.

If Jimin hadn’t been used three times already, Koo could have been less considerate. He would have wanted the elder to continue to stroke himself through the oversensitivity, but he'd been so good. Koo decides to just let Jimin relax and take what the younger one gives.

"I love the sounds you make. You sound so desperate for me... fuck..." Jungkook's hips grind faster, no longer pulling out all the way, instead keeping himself snug and deep inside as he shallowly drives his pelvis against Jimin's ass, piercing still prodding and abusing the elders prostate. "Keep squeezing, keep going, I'll cum..." Jungkook moans through his dampened lips, swollen from biting down on them. "Oh, fuck... you're so tight, I'm gonna cum—" his low words break into a silence, heavy breaths replacing them as he grabbed Jimin harshly only to press his hips flush against his ass, reaching as deep as possible. His cock desperately throbs inside of Jimin, gushing with spurts of his thick, sticky cum claiming it's spot. "Mine..." Jungkook whispers, letting go of Jimin and wrapping his arm around to hug him. He keeps his pulsating cock lodged inside to keep all the cum securely in place. "You're so cute. It's the third time today and you're still so so needy... ahh, you're perfect for me." He mumbles as he presses his cheek against the pillow, closing his eyes to finally get some sleep.

Jimin pulsates around Jungkook's cock as it remains deep inside his abused hole. He feels calm and secure, connected together, used for the photographer's pleasure. He could slip off to sleep at any moment, but the sticky mess tacking his hand to his slick cock distracts him from fully surrendering to his heavy eyelids.

"W-wait." He remembers back to Jungkook's personal studio—how wide his deep brown eyes got when Jimin crawled on hands and knees to lap his own cum off the floor. Jimin lifts his sticky hand from his twitching cock and looks over his shoulder at Jungkook. The man is already halfway asleep, but his eyes are open to slits, watching him patiently. "Look how hard you made me cum, Jeon..." He holds his dripping fingers to the light and marvels at how the thick fluid slides down his palm. Before it falls onto his wrist, he captures it on his tongue, flattening it on his skin for the younger to see. "Mm," he moans, moving his hand to lick away every drop.

Jungkook's doe eyes widen at the sight, swirling with admiration. Jimin truly was perfect, everything he wants and needs. "C'mere," he sleepily whispers as he reaches to grasp Jimin's chin, turning the man’s neck to draw him in for a kiss, humming in content at the taste of the elders' release mixed with their spit. Jungkook pulls back with a coy smile and eyes, struggling to stay open as he buries his face in Jimin's back, arm secured around him as he remains still inside, keeping his cum from seeping out. "Goodnight baby," Kook murmurs into the smaller man's back, mouthing a silent 'I love you' before pressing his lips against his clammy skin, quickly drifting off to dreamland.

#fic: mused obsession #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #jungkook x jimin #jikook #jikook smut #jungkook smut #jimin smut #bts mxm #bts mxm smut #kookmin #kookmin smut #sombreboy #chimoona

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tmnt-mags · 4 years ago

Text

Michelangelo x Fem!Reader

Soulmates

Mikey has always been one of my favorites and I feel like he always gets the least amount of love from the fandom. The turtles and reader are 18+ cause that's what I do.

Warnings: brief mention of abuse.

Mikey had been in love with the idea of a soulmate since he could remember. A person made by the universe that will love you the best. For a turtle mutant that lived in the sewers it was the ultimate fantasy. However, Master Splinter had told them it was very unlikely that they would have any. They weren't human after all. Still Mikey held on to hope and dreamed for the day that he might meet his one and only. He was straight as far as he could tell so he went out of his way to watch any video he could find about ladies. He would be the perfect boyfriend. He learned about periods and makeup and watched hair tutorials. He even found a wig and after cleaning it up the best he could he would practice braiding on it. Mikey had also watched videos about the female body, more than just porn, he watched women talk about sex and listened as they complained about human dudes. He couldn't exactly practice, but he would try to prepare best as he could. He would make up for being a mutant by knowing more and being better than any human man.

He was doing a cool down after a pretty intense training session with Leo.

“You did good Mikey, but you can't celebrate after every hit. You lose concentration and will get hurt.” Leo said stretching off to the side.

“Yeah bro you got a pretty good hit on me at the end.” he opened his mouth to stretch his now sore jaw. “Hey leo we’ll be 20 soon right?

“Mikey not this again.” Leo stopped and walked over to his younger brother. “We’ve talked about this, there is almost no chance of any of us having a soulmate.”

“You don’t know that Leo. Donnie doesn’t even know! I don't wanna give up hope.” It was the same argument that they had been having for years and years. His brothers had all seemed to give up on the idea, but Mikey wouldn't.

Mikey counted down the days until their birthday. After meeting April they finally found out their real birthdays from her father's notes. They all hatched on the same day, but at different times. Donnie actually turned out to be the oldest than Raph, Leo, and finally Mikey. He had been hoping that he would turn out to be the oldest but it was meant to be he guessed.

Mikey shot up and looked down at his arm excitedly, but didn't see anything. He wasn't worried though, the day was still young! He grabbed a black sharpie and wrote a simple ‘Hi angel’ on his forearm. He checked it throughout the day but still nothing. His brothers didn't even bother writing anything.

Everyday he would write a message or draw a picture hoping that his soulmate would see it. After 2 months he started to get sad. His dad was the first to take notice, and suggested that Mikey meditate. After an hour with no luck in concentrating, Mikey was about to stop when Splinter sat across from him.

“My soulmate hasn't written me back.” He said, “Maybe you guys have been right all along.”

“I would not worry yet my son. It is possible that your soulmate is younger than you, should you have one.” Splinter reached over to pat Mikey’s knee, “I have always been hopeful that you boys would have one, but I do not want you to be disappointed.”

“Don’t worry about me pops! You know me nothing gets me down!” Mikey cheered and jumped up. He ran out of the dojo throwing a thank you over his shoulder.

Splinter did know his youngest. He was happy and enjoyed having fun, but he was also sensitive. He always had been, and out of all of his sons he worried the most about Mikey and what it would do to him if he didn't have a soulmate. He sighed and decided it would be best to meditate as well. It had always been very helpful to him.

But months passed and soon a year did too and he never heard from his soulmate. Some days it was harder to write his morning message, but he still tried. He didn't want his soulmate to wake up on her 20th birthday with no message. As far as he knew his brothers never even tried to write theirs. Mikey knew they were just afraid of the possibility that they really didn't have one. He was too. He really wanted a soulmate.

It had been a busy 2 weeks. They met a girl, who also happened to be the first human they met, they totally kicked Foot Clan ass, uncovered a super villain plot and saved the city. They truly were heroes now and that was really fucking cool. They had made a new friend in a woman named April. She was pretty and nice and didn't seem to mind the fact that they were giant turtles, after the initial shock of course. He didn't even realize he hadn't written anything on his arm during all of this. He sat in bed and stared down at himself. He didn't write anything for 2 weeks and nothing had changed.There was a painful uncomfortable feeling in his chest as he looked at his arm trying to manifest words there somehow. Nothing had changed. The world didn't end because he didn't write anything. He sighed and laid down; he looked over at the black marker he kept by his bed. He started to reach out for it but instead rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

It had been 3 months now since he had written something on his arm. He tried not to think about it, sometimes he felt a tickle there but whenever he checked there was nothing. His mind was just playing with him. The brothers were on patrol tonight and Mikey was trying not to get distracted but it was one of those days he couldn't help but think about his soulmate. Leo and Raph had already got on to him about it tonight. He realized he should have tried harder when his jump to the next roof fell short and he went crashing down to the fire escape below.

“Mikey!” His brother yelled and came rushing down to see if he was alright.

“Im good dudes,” he grunted and he started to get up. “That hurt though.”

“Are you okay?” The boys jumped and turned and sitting on the steps a couple feet from them was a girl. “Ummmm, hi.”

“Hey” was all the boys could say. She nodded and looked at them, and there were a couple of moments where they all just stared at each other.

“So, i'm gonna take a wild guess here and say this isn't normal for New York?” she said and then pursed her lips.

“No it's not.” Raph grunted at her.

“Did you think that it was?” Donnie questioned. She shrugged at them.

“I'm not from here and it seems like wild things always happen in New York.” The girl defended. Mikey stared at her. She was pretty and was wearing shorts and a large t-shirt that was covered in dried paint. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she had bangs that covered her forehead. She was holding a cup in both hands and looking at them. She didn't seem frightened at all.

“Should I be freaking out?” the pretty girl asked.

“No! You don't need to be afraid of us.” Mikey suddenly forgot about any pain or soreness from his fall and stood up the rest of the way and moved in front of his brothers. “I’m Michelangelo, but everyone calls me Mikey.”

“I heard your name.” She giggled at him but then looked him in the eyes. “You are okay right? That seemed like quite the fall.” the turtle smiled widely and did a spin in the tight space.

“Right as rain baby.”

“Oh so you suddenly don't hurt?” Leo said, crossing his arms.

“The voice of an angel healed me I guess.” Mikey said and gave the girl a wink who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sure it did, lover boy.” Raph said and then smacked the back of Mikey's head who yelped out.

“Not cool bro.” he groaned. “Whats your name angelcakes?” the girl let out a gasp.

“How did you know my name?” she said with surprise. The boys blinked at her dumbly.

“Seriously?” Donnie asked.

“No, my name is (y/n).” She laughed. “What are your names?”

“Oh these are my brothers Donnie, Leo, and Raph!” He motioned at each one and she gave a small wave as he did.

“You’re really not scared?” Donnie asked her quietly.

“A little shocked but not scared.” (Y/n) said happily.

The boys sat and talked to her for a little bit but Leo reminded them that they had a job to do. So with an invitation for them to come back and hang out again they boys parted with their newest friend to continue patrol. When they got back to the lair Mikey felt like he was on cloud nine. She was pretty, nice, and had a great smile. Mikey sat and smiled thinking about (y/n) when his eyes caught sight of a little black marker. He frowned. He wanted to find his soulmate, he really did, but now he didn't want to write anything cause what if it wasn't her. He really wanted it to be her.

“I think I’m in love~” he sighed.

“Sure you are Mike.” Leo grunted. “Go to sleep, it was a long night.”

Mikey sighed and rolled onto his side. He looked at the marker and felt guilty for some reason. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Life was good the boys went over to (y/n)’s apartment about once a week and April would come down to the lair to visit them about the same amount. A couple of months after they met they introduced the girls and they got along really well. Mikey sat April down and told her that he was sorry but his heart now belonged to (y/n). She smiled at him and patted his shoulder and told him that she forgave him and even though it would be hard she would heal. His brothers laughed but he ignored it.

April was working and the boys were at (y/n)’s place. They had eaten pizza and were talking about whatever came to mind.

“Do you guys have soulmates?” (Y/n) asked rather suddenly.

“Well we actually don't know, but we think it's very unlikely that we will.” Donnie replied.

“Oh. I hope you do.” she said. Mikey felt nervous as he asked his question.

“Do you have one?” she looked over at him.

“Not yet, but I hope I do. I’ve written on my arm every day since I turned 20 6 months ago.” she said, pulling her legs up to sit criss cross on the couch.

“We missed your birthday?” Leo asked.

“It was like a month before we met.” she shrugged.

“I can't believe I missed my true-love's birthday!” Mikey exclaimed and threw his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

“You're squishing me!” She pushed away from the orange clad turtle laughing. “Do you guys want soulmates?” the boys quieted, and fidgeted awkwardly.

“I mean yeah but what's the point? Looks at us! We’re freaks.” Raph called out before crossing his arms.

“But soulmates are made for you! The universe wouldn't have given us someone who is scared of us!” Mikey defended. It was a conversation that had been had many times.

“Actually I'm not sure about that.” (y/n) said. Four pairs of eyes turned towards her.

“What do you mean?” Donnie asked.

“Well my parents were soulmates and my dad used to beat my mom senseless until he was arrested and they divorced when I was 8. They were soulmates but he used to hurt her so much.” (y/n) looked down at her hands. “It took her awhile to realize that just because the universe made you soulmates didn’t mean you were meant to be.”

“What happened after that?” Leo almost whispered the question.

“Well she met my step dad who is a great guy. His soulmate isnt the romantic type so they just ended up being close friends, and then he met my mom. They fell in love and he became my step-dad. You don't need to be soulmates to love each other, sometimes soulmates are just platonic, and sometimes soulmates aren’t good for eachother.”

“I’m sorry.” Mikey said softly.

“Don't be! Everyone is happy now. I mean, I don't know about my dad. He's never tried to reach back out. I kinda don't want him to anway.” (y/n) looked back up at the turtles.

“So you must hate the idea of soulmates.” Raph suggested.

“When did I say that? I want a soulmate, I really do. I want that fairy tale happily ever after people always talk about.” She sighed and smiled. “That's why I write my soulmate everyday. I had wished that they would be older than me but I guess they are a bit younger. I just hope that when I'm 42 I don't suddenly get writing from my soulmate who just turned 20.” She laughed.

“That can happen?” she looked over at Donnie and nodded.

“You guys don't know that?” the boys, except for Mikey, nodded.

“We never thought we would have them, so beyond movies I don't think any of us really looked. Didn’t want false hope.” Leo looked at her.

“Well I did cause I’ve always wanted a soulmate!” Mikey interjected.

“Mikey used to write on his arm every single day but hasn't in months.” Raph told her.

“Hey how do you know that?” Mikey looked at him.

“You think we didn't notice? We just never brought it up cause we know how you are.” Leo mumbled. The youngest turtle pouted at this.

“Why did you stop?” (y/n) asked. Mikey sighed and leaned his head back.

“It just kinda felt pointless. I would write something every day and nothing ever happened and then I realized one day that I hadn’t written anything for 2 weeks and still nothing changed. It just kinda felt pointless lately.” Mikey told everyone. There were flashes of sadness or pity from his brothers. They always knew the day would come when Mikey realized that none of them had soulmates. They knew it would come, but they didn't want it too.

“Well thats dumb.” (y/n) said rather bluntly. “What if today is her birthday and she's waiting to see if her soulmate will write anything. There were girls in my highschool that swore that they wouldn't write first and that their soulmate had to be the one to write first.” She said, leaning into Mikey.

“Well I think thats kinda dumb.” Mikey pouted at her. She rolled her eyes and leaned forward grabbing a cup of markers.

“Here write something!” she said, giving him the cup. He grabbed a black marker and opened it.

“Fine. Anything for you angelcakes.” he blew a kiss at her and looked at his arm. He felt a weird tightness when he brought the marker to his skin. He decided to write a simple ‘Hi I’m Mikey. What's your name.’

(Y/n) shivered as he started to write and felt a tickle on her arm. She gasped and pulled up her sleeve. The brothers' eyes widened as they watched Mikey’s hand writing appear on her arm next to the old writing that she had done. Mikey did not notice.

“Mikey! Look!” The oldest turtle said pointing at (y/n). Mikey looked up at Donnie and then at (y/n)’s arm.

“Oh haha very funny. That's not really nice.” He rolled his eyes.

“What Mikey? It's not a joke!” She put her arm right next to his and told him to keep writing. He drew a squiggle and watched as it seemed to magically appear on his friend's arm.

“What? Dude! Thats awesome!” Mikey cried out. This was the best thing in the world! His angelcakes was his soulmate!

“Why haven't you written me back?” She asked slightly outraged. Mikey stopped and stared at her.

“Cause I haven’t gotten any writing.” Mikey said, remembering how she said she wrote to her soulmate everyday. The room fell quiet and Mikey felt the beginnings of a horrible pain in his heart.

“So I’m yours, but you're not…” She trailed off feeling a sudden wave of emotion and felt tears in her eyes.

“Um sorry to interrupt, but I don't think there's any reason to get upset.” Donnie started. He grabbed the marker that matched the writing she already had on her arm. “Try writing something (y/n).” She nodded quietly as a few tears fell. She opened the cap and wrote hello. Mikey felt a tickle and shivered at the phantom writing on his arm, but he looked down and there was nothing there.

“Nothing” Mikey whispered. He felt like the world was crashing down. A moment so happy followed by something so heartbreaking. Raph and Leo looked down and away. Their faces filled with sorrow for their brother, and for the hope they had just felt for themselves.

“Now hold on just a moment.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “(Y/n) why do you write in that color?”

“It's my favorite.” she sniffled.

“Do you always write in green?” He pressed.

“Yeah, like I said it's my favorite and I want my soulmate to know that. I feel like it makes it a little more personal.” (y/n) continued. Donnie leaned forward and grabbed her marker. Everyone watched as he took the marker and held it up to mikey.

“Everyone look.” They all looked and Mikey’s eyes widened.

“It's the same color as me.” he mumbled.

“(Y/n) please try again with black.” She quickly snatched up the black marker and wrote ‘I hope this is Mikey.’

“Donnie you're a genius!” Mikey tackled his brother and then quickly went back to the couch thrusting his arm at (y/n). “Do it again!”

She quickly drew a heart while staring at his arm and watched as the black lines began to appear on Mikey as she drew them. She practically threw herself at mikey wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his face.

“Woah. I think that we should probably leave.” Leo suggested as his two other brothers got up and followed him to the window.

“Thank you Donnie!” (y/n) shouted out. Donnie gave a thumbs up and went out the window and closed it behind him.

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for 5 months without finding out!” Mikey said nuzzling her face and wiping whatever tears were still there.

“I can't believe I never thought to write in black!” She laughed and kissed his cheek.

“Wait!” He leaned back. “The turtle thing doesn't bother you? Really? Truly?”

“Of course not! I’ve had a big crush on you for like 2 months now! This is the best news ever!” his soulmate cheered. “Also I just kissed you like 10 times.”

Mikey laughed and held her close, kissing her cheek. He had a soulmate! His soulmate was a beautiful, funny, nice girl who liked him!

“I knew there was a reason I’ve always loved green.” She said with a smile and leaned in to kiss mikey’s lips. It was a nice sweet kiss and just what he always thought a first kiss should be, yet so much better. He sighed and relaxed against the couch with (y/n) in his arms.

He had a soulmate and things couldn't be better.

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt michelangelo

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s0lar-ch3ri · 3 years ago

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Headcanons for fandoms! (Fandoms are Gravity Falls, Camp Camp, and MCYT Minors, because I can) Long

First Fandom: Camp Camp (Not all by the way, so yeah!) Preston (Theater Kid) is bigender because he was told he can’t act as a girl since he’s a boy. He was thinking of being a girl but then tohuhgt(my fingers typed this and i just had to keep it, but it says thought) by that logic he couldn’t do boys so he just went “screw it, I’ll do both” (thought he does genuinely enjoy being both) and even after told that that logic wasn’t true stayed the same. He uses all pronouns, but mainly, he/him and she/her! Niki calls almost everyone at the camp her older (or younger, if they are younger than her. people her age she just calls them brother/sister/sibling) sibling and some people do the same (like call her their sibling)! Max and Herrison call themselves orphans because they just don’t think their parents are parents. Due to this, they have a pretty good friendship. Neil needs glasses but doesn’t wanna be bullied by Nurf for being a nerd so he just deals with his kinda bad vision. Herrison KINS Bill Cypher. Herrison’s magic isn’t fake, and is actually real! The Quartermaster is immortal, not as a god, just an immortal because spite. Next Fandom: Gravity Falls (Not all) Mabel is a lesbian, because of irony. (Just a note: I hate Billdip since Bill is way older than humans, Dipper is 13 by the end of the show, and to make it worse, the legal age of consent in America is 18, which is where the show takes place. This next headcanon is NOT Billdip.) Bill kinda is still in Dipper’s mind as he never said the deal was off, but can’t exactly control him or come back and stuff, just talk and annoy him. At first, Dipper would be just like so close to screaming, but at this point he just has conversations with him. Dipper has had tiny panic attacks (only once did it get a bit bad) and when he does, he doodles in his and Mabel’s journal, and everyone thinks it’s Mabel because it’s usually flowers and vines or stars but nope it’s Dipper. Grunkle Stan’s nickname for Waddles is Porky. Don’t ask. It just is. Ford has had a literal conversation with Waddles, AND THEY BOTH UNDERSTOOD EACH OTHER. THIS WAS AN HOUR OF TALKING. AND IT WAS ON CORN. Soos in Mabel Land slapped his “dad” because he was saying things when he was trying to go back to Dipper, like how he shouldn’t run away from his dad, he should put family first, trashy things like that. Final Fandom: DSMP Minors (Only minors because this really is a list of headcanons for kids) (im also doing niki cause im pretty sure shes a minor right?) (Not all) I found out Niki in canon got to see the afterlife for a brief moment as she was dropped out of the world by DreamXD as a prank, so I’ll just add that. Ranboo can only drink juice. He just drinks juice. Don’t ask. Tubbo’s multiple personalities aren’t gone, just waiting for when they shall cause chaos again. Tommy just radiates music. Purpled isn’t actually an alien, he just likes to wear googly eyes on his face and fly in a UFO. Say if i should do more!

#chilling in solar lights

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

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butterflies • mike hanlon

(mike hanlon x reader)

requested: Can you write something for Mike? Whenever you have time of course😊 I don’t mind if it’s smut or fluff, imagine or head cannons. I just really need more Mike in my life💗 thank you -🃏 p.s ilysm

warning: swearing, brief mentions of sex thx richie (and stan and bill), just fluffy stuff, underage drinking, unedited

[losers + reader are 18 in this.]

i wrote this rly quickly bc i just had an idea and im in love w mike, i hope u guys enjoy! i also made this gender neutral

♡

1.8k words

"what're you staring at, toots?" a cheeky voice pulls you out of your daydream.

you look to your left and stare at richie, cheeks heating up. "what are you talking about?" you ask, feeling flustered. your friend chuckles, the lenses of his glasses glinting in the midday sun.

it's hot today - you, eddie, and richie had just crawled from the quarry to rest on blankets, your skin warm and hair dripping onto your bodies as you watch the others swim.

in the distance, a bout of laughter grabs your attention and you focus on your friends. mike's got bev in his arms as he tosses her through the water, flying and both of them laughing. you smile, watching mike's back muscles move, his blinding smile as he wipes water from his eyes.

bill socks him on the shoulder lightly in jest and mike turns his head with a laugh. and then mike's warm eyes are locking with yours from far away and your stomach flutters. he waves, and you softly wave back.

"uh, that."

you look back with a frown to eddie, who's staring at you with a straight look. richie's got the same one on his own angular face and you scowl at them, crossing your arms. "i don't know what you're on about. you guys are assholes, anyways." you mutter the second part, toe nudging the sand at the edge of your towel.

"it's okay, y/n.

your eyebrows lift and you sigh, surprised by the moment of sincerity from the boy who's always joking.

"then you can finally fuck him all you want."

"wait, now. y/n fucking who?" stan asks, walking up with a grin and flanked by ben and bev on either side. they all fall to the ground and shake their hair out with towels or grab their phone.

"obviously mike. who else?" eddie adds, tossing you a smirk. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. a quick glance proves that bill and mike are still in the water, making their way over slowly but in deep conversation. at least they're out of earshot.

"yeah, she's been hung up on him since the seventh grade. we're eighteen now, doll. it's time." richie says this with a half-full mouth of beer, prompting you, ben, bev, stan, and eddie all to give him a grossed out look.

"oh fuck off, tozier, leave her alone." stan mumbles, digging through the cooler to pull out a beer and handing one to eddie before pulling his keys to open his own. "you jealous, stanny?" richie mutters, making kissy noises. you roll your eyes and crack a grin despite your embarrassment.

"please. y/n's all mike's, none for me. he's just as hung up on her." stan mutters with a grin and you toss a rock at him in annoyance. god, they're the worst.

"she's also a person, you know." bev says, sending a pointed look to the boys just as bill and mike walk over, towels around their shoulders.

"y/n? a p-person? not so sure." bill teases, winking at you. you stick your tongue out at him, just glad they'd only caught the tail-end of that conversation. mike sits next to you, handing you a cold beer with a warm smile.

you feel those stupid butterflies again.

"i don’t know. y/n's pretty human to me." mike mutters as he wipes his face with his hand. you grin into your knees, feeling flustered and very, very, very infatuated with the boy next to you.

richie groans with a teasing smile, "see! that's what im talking about, are you guys j-" he makes a loud grunt then as ben whacks him in the stomach.

later that night, two more beers and four slices (you were so hungry) of pizza later, you find yourself gazing up at the stars. being at mike's house was one of your favorite things ever. besides the most obvious reason, the one that makes you flush, you do like coming to the farm because it's far enough away from the town that the stars are clear and you can lay and stare at them for hours.

luckily, mike kept his window screen removed so he himself could go on the roof, so after everyone had fallen asleep, you'd tip toed up to his room to crawl onto the roof. you'd also tried to hide your disappointment as you opened his door and he wasn't there - he hadn't been asleep downstairs with the others so you'd assumed he'd gone to sleep in his own bed.

nonetheless, you were up here now and it was perfect - the crickets chirping and frogs croaking in the creek a few yards to the left of the house, close enough that you can here it gurgling as the water flows past the rocks you used to jump across as kids.

you sigh. when did you grow up?

a breeze ruffles your hair lightly and you can smell the remnants of smoke in the air from the fire mike and ben had lit although that was hours ago.

mike. the thought brings butterflies all over your body and you curse yourself and your anxious crush. he was just so... so soft. he was strong and soft and careful and carefree - he was his own opposite and that thought itself confused you but you don't really care because every time he speaks, you want nothing more than just to listen for ages. you sit up, eyes wide and breaths halting at your own thoughts. wait.

that's love, isn't it?

"want some company?" a voice calls, prompting you to turn back and look towards the window, your heart skipping a beat at the familiar figure.

"hi mike." you say timidly, your face somehow feeling warm against the cool summer night. perfect timing. "hey, y/n/n." he mutters as he pulls himself through the ledge and out onto the roof, plopping himself next to you. he sits close enough that you can smell him and feel him against your leg - his smell is one of mint, wildflowers and some unknown cologne that makes you feel tingly.

"i thought you were asleep." you say, hating that you feel so damn nervous around your friend. if only these feelings would go away. he chuckles, looking at you, "no, i was getting water in the kitchen and when i came back, you weren't with the others. i knew you'd be up here."

something about his words make you feel very mushy and you give him a smile, "how'd you know?" you ask softly. he shrugs, his eyes darting quickly from yours to your lips and your heart freezes.

"i know you more than you think, y/n." he says equally as soft and then you notice how close he really is, how honest he sounds. and then your eyes flick away, taking in the soft rustle of the leaves in the distance, a lone car tumbling down the road into town, the left taillight blown out. you chuckle; it looks sort of like the car richie bought sophomore year that you all used to pile into to drive into bangor.

you then think about all your memories with the losers; how every single one always circulates around a familiar smile, a certain laughter and the kindest person you've ever known.

and then mike's arm lifts to rest around you and you quickly snap out of your stare at the grassy field of his farm to look at him. he's smiling back and you realize his voice and body next to yours might possibly be the one thing bearing the weight of your mind as your head threatens to join the shining stars and clouds above you. he takes care of you in ways that neither of you notice, in ways that you'll forever be grateful for.

"i just want to say something." he says, cutting out the silence with his crisp words, looking out towards the skyline where you can just make out the main street of derry over the fields.

you lean your head slightly onto his shoulder and hum, nervous that if you tried to speak no words would come out but just the sound of your racing heartbeat.

"y/n, i really like you."

it's said with no other inflections, nothing but the raw words doing so much to overpower your brain. your heart stops beating then starts again at a thumping, resounding pace. you think you're short-circuiting.

"oh... what?" you ask shyly, feeling extremely flushed. there's no way that mike likes you back. he smiles at you and god, those butterflies are about to escape from your chest. "you're not joking, are you?" you ask, biting your lip as your eyes navigate every feature of his face as he watches you. you dont even know why you said it - it's mike you're talking to. he would never lie or joke about something like this, he would never, ever hurt you like that.

"i have never felt this way about anyone.” he says honestly, a smile still on his face and your heart thumps wildly in your chest, a smile splitting your face in two as you shake your head. "y/n/n, i would never lie to you." but you already knew that.

your heart is swelling with so much antsy happiness that you almost huff a laugh, shaking your head as your cheeks flush. he's just watching you, half-smiling as he waits for you to fully react. he knows you so well, you almost cry, but instead you speak.

"i like you too, i think i lo-" you cut yourself off and suck in a breath, realizing that you haven't taken one in over thirty seconds. "i have for a long time. do you-do you think i could..." you trail off, feeling awkward.

he smiles gently, the hand that isn't around your shoulders reaching to softly cup your jaw. you can't speak as he pulls you closer and shit, even if you could you don't want to because you would ruin this beautiful moment, the way you're breathing each other in.

you close the gap.

his lips are warm against yours and the arm around your shoulder moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss. he tastes like vanilla ice cream and you whimper slightly, your hands falling on his chest as your heart pounds in your own. he's smilling, then - you can feel it.

you laugh with happiness as you realize that you can feel him smiling against your lips and that you'll be able to feel that for a very long time. he pulls back and pecks your lips again, staring into your eyes and then you peck his lips. he laughs and it makes you beam.

his arm pulls you into his side and he lays his head on yours as you stare out into the countryside. "are you tired, mike?" you ask, concerned that you've kept him up. you feel him shake his head and you smile softly, hand lacing with his against the tiles of the roof.

"no. i think i could stay up here forever." he whispers.

//tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @toziershmozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @beauregard-s @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell //

#🃏#mike hanlon x reader #mike hanlon is my boy #losers x reader #losers club x reader

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soncfseed · 4 years ago

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REPOSTED FROM MY OLD BLOG: Probably my most important headcanon, so please take the time to read this!!

spoilers ahead, but im gonna look at ethans cutscenes and talk about how his bpd (borderline personality disorder) affects his actions and his perceptions throughout the story of new dawn. this is all just headcanon and my interpretation of ethan and how bpd would affect him. none of this is meant to excuse his more nefarious actions, but explain why my interpretation of ethan doesnt pin him as a selfish, horrible, awful monster, but rather a young man with a lot of unresolved trauma and a serious mental health condition who ended up making some terrible choices that resulted in a lot of pain for a lot of people.

0:05 - ethan’s introduction

in this scene ethan experiences some pretty quick and dramatic mood shifts, and has a pretty significant emotional outburst. these are characteristic of the mood swings and emotional dis-regulation experienced by many people with bpd. he starts off catching the captain off guard, sneaking up behind them. ethan has been taught to distrust outsiders, and a symptom of bpd he experiences is suspicion of others and sometimes brief bouts of paranoia. this kind of behaviour makes sense when this is taken into context.

he says that he might not be what the captain expects. this is part of his low self esteem and struggles with his self image and how others perceive him. he constantly feels as though he can never truly be his own person, outside of joseph seed, and that his existence is a disappointment to those who know him.

once he sees the book, he is triggered into a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. acknowledging that the deputy is the one who found the book, and according to joseph’s prophecy will be the true ruler of new eden, is what sets him off. once ethan goes into his rant about it should’ve been him, he’s experiencing a mood swing and sudden spike in his anger and irritability. due to his issues w emotional regulation and control over his expressions of emotion, ethan lashes out by screaming and knocking over the podium in the church. mood swings for bpd sufferers can be only minutes long. what pulls ethan back down to earth a bit is a sudden rush when he realizes he can work with the captain to enlighten new eden to the truth: that joseph is a man, not a messiah, and kind of a shitty one at that who abandoned them all.

3:50 - ethan’s first speech in new eden

ethan’s posturing here is just that; posturing. he’s putting on a bit of a show with the “non believer” bit. he does, however, not entirely trust outsiders nor would he trust that the people of new eden wouldn’t turn on him if he suggested that the captain go north. no, instead he plays off of what he expects the people will do to avoid potential rejection or rebellion. this plays off of his mistrust and suspicion of others, as well as serves to protect his secret interests (getting proof that joseph is dead to get new eden to move on from him) and his ego (tied to the bpd symptom of self image issues and unstable self realization).

ethan can’t help but be a bit sarcastic with “we are all his children”. sarcasm and unwarranted aloofness can tie into bpd, and here it definitely does due to his poor relationship with his father, and with the rumours surrounding his paternity in new eden.

while bpd does not inherently make people manipulative, manipulation of others is often something those with bpd adopt as a coping mechanism to manage their unstable relationships or unstable self image. ethan has adopted this trait in some ways and this is definitely one of them. he does not trust the people of new eden, and knows they wont listen to him fully. this is his main motivator for keeping his plan secret.

the fact that ethan feels he has to act a certain way when he’s the leader of new eden further contributes to his unstable self realization. he puts on different fronts to different people to try and both please them and protect himself.

when he says “they will at last understand that i am their prophet…”, this is in part because he feels he’s worked hard to be the inheritor of new eden. he’s not only joseph’s son (and even if he doesn’t like joseph he wants to be recognized as his biological son, making the rumours about his paternity even more hurtful) but he’s been a successful leader as far as we can tell. to think he will lose it all over a book is damn near panic inducing for ethan. well this is in part a kind of arrogance, it’s fueled by his extreme emotions/mood swings as well as how closely he ties his identity to his position within his community. because his self image is so unstable, threats to that cause him to act in ways that may seem irrational or extreme in order to try and protect his self image. also, ethan will only help the captain in exchange for something in part bc of his suspicion of others. he doesn’t want to offer new eden’s archers and resources without knowing that he will benefit in return. after all, if something goes wrong in new eden bc of this outsider and he allowed it, it’s his responsibility to take the blame and fix it.

5:20 - into the bliss

theres not much in this scene to tie to his bpd. one line i think is important though: “bring me proof of my fathers death and i will make sure you are remembered as a friend of the prophet”. well this can be interpreted as ethan saying to kill joseph, i dont think he is. ethan believes joseph is long gone, that he could never survive all alone for this long. ethan isn’t evil, he’s not asking someone to commit murder, he’s asking them to confirm that someone is already dead. sure, he’s self serving and he wants something in return for his allyship, but to him this is how he can ensure a fair trade, and that an outsider won’t take advantage of him or new eden as easily.

14:18 - ethan, interrupted

ethan’s big speech where joseph fuckin crashes it. at first, he literally does not even see joseph in the crowd. he truly believes he’s dead and that the captain will bring back proof of this. to him, adherence to his rule makes sense; he’s the leader, and things need to change. it is arrogant, because ethan has partially internalized a sense of superiority and entitlement because of his position as joseph’s son, and now heir to the rulership of new eden (he thinks). this combined with an unstable self esteem and self image makes him want total compliance to his rule. criticism, disobedience, they threaten his self worth and that can send him into an emotional spiral or severe mood swing. so, to try and avoid the negative consequences he experiences from perceived slights and rejections, he wants a clean slate and total adherence to his new rules.

when he actually sees joseph, he stops, stammers, and says “father?”. not the father. just father. in this moment, his father who abandoned him (who went out for smokes and never came back) has suddenly shown up in the middle of his speech about him being dead. his arm drops and he stands there, stunned and speechless. his first question is “where have you been?”. he wants to know why and he asks why. why did his father abandon them? abandon him? the answer is completely meaningless to him. it’s basic, it has no detail, and isn’t sufficient. he’s speechless again for a bit, breathing heavier and hyperventilating. he steps away from joseph. when joseph calls the captain god’s sword, ethan damn near does a double take. he’s literally standing in his father’s shadow while he exalts an outsider in front of his own son, after interrupting his speech and embarrassing him in front of everyone.

one of ethan’s symptoms is his overvaluing and undervaluing people in his life. this is when he switches from overvaluing the captain, putting too much faith and hope into them, to undervaluing and practically hating them. his relationship with his father is tenuous, and rocky. it is characterized by ethan’s intense desire to be josephs successor and publicly recognized as his son. ethan even calls out to joseph, upset about the fact that hes now suddenly and publicly being dethroned; joseph doesnt even look back at him. ethan rejects josephs words in anger. he has a sudden outburst in front of the crowd; yet another sudden spike in his emotions from a stressful situation causes him to say what he’s really thinking. “you abandoned me. you abandoned us.” ethan says joseph didn’t leave instructions or a message, just left ethan to lead with no idea how. he does the best job he can under these extreme circumstances, and now all of his hard work is for nothing. that would make even the most level headed neurotypical person upset. whenn ethan starts to lose the support of new eden, he breaks down a bit. the anchor of his self image has been completely ripped away from him in a moment. he storms off partially and his body language is pretty dire; head down, shoulders moving sharply like he’s breathing harshly, and then he turns to watch the crowd walk away from him. imo, part of why ethan doesn’t completely lose it in this scene is that he might be partially dissociating or beginning to dissociate or experience some de-realization from the sudden, acute emotional distress this moment causes for him.

17:45 - ethan’s response

this is when ethan says that the captain betrayed him. they had a deal. he completely put his trust into the captain, idealizing them as the person who could solve his problems, only for them to bring joseph back and make everything in ethans life worse. now, the pendulum swings to the other side where ethan begins to loathe the captain. saying that the captain should have killed joseph themselves is an expression of 1) the intense reactions people with bpd can have to certain situations and 2) his skewed logic because of it. what seems totally irrational to someone else might seem like the only logical solution to a problem for someone with bpd. the stress of such a painful, emotionally charged situation like this one. he never wants to see the captain again; on a dime he flips, from putting all of his trust and hope into one person to saying he never wants to see them again and that they betrayed him. this quick switch of very intense perceptions of others is a cycle of idealization and undervaluing that people with bpd may experience.

18:07 - ethan’s prayer letter

in this letter, ethan discusses how he feels he hates his father for the abandonment; how joseph “expected everything and gave nothing”, how ethan never got to really have joseph as a father for himself because he was too busy being THE father. he says wrath and envy grip him tight to the point he feels he can’t breathe. this is definitely indicative of ethans mood swings and intense emotions, especially the irrational anger and aggression many people with bpd can have. then, he says nobody but himself, his mother, and god can know about how he feels, and that he must put on a front for new eden and be a leader to them “no matter what”. this is absolutely something i can see being tied to his bpd. he is aware that expressing his thoughts, feelings, and reactions to others would probably get a negative reaction. he seeks to avoid that, as well as to avoid the judgment from others he thinks he would get. his unstable self image is complicated by the fact that he feels obligated to hide the symptoms of his illness, and pretend to be someone he isn’t. this only makes it worse, as he ties his social and therefore individual identity to “ruler of new eden”. he relies very much on the responses and reactions of others to gauge whether or not he seems “normal” or capable of doing his job.

18:27 - npc dialogue

ethan says that josephs followers see the prophecy coming to light, but ethan sees it as a chance for new eden to make its own path. this is also when ethan says that he is josephs biological son, and that his mother raised him outside of hope county and brought him there when he was young to be raised by joseph. she died from an illness on their journey. this is some pretty significant baggage for ethan. he wants new eden, and himself, to become independent. the only reason he stays in new eden is because of his mother. he loves her, and idealizes her in a way that never flips to undervaluing because the relationship is one sided since her passing.

19:23 - megan’s letter to joseph

this is important just bc it states megan raised ethan as a non believer but after the collapse taught him about joseph’s word. this is important for ethan because it means he had to relearn some pretty significant things after the apocalypse, including a whole new religion and worldview. this can be very confusing for a child, and in part explains why ethan isn’t totally on board with josephs word, or the all of new eden’s beliefs surrounding him; his earliest formative years had nothing to do with joseph seed or prophets or collapses. he had to convert, and did so as a child who couldn’t really understand or make that choice for himself. he is tied to new eden solely because of megan, and without her wish to have him be josephs heir, he would’ve left long ago.

20:08 - intermission/flashback

this is when we see a young babby ethan get nasty with joseph. this is an early sign of his bpd developing. he has an intense reaction and says something very hurtful to his father over not getting what he wants, which isn’t just the apple but his father’s approval. to him, this is another rejection by joseph, or it is perceived that way by a young ethan. constantly being told something wasn’t gods plan, or it isn’t part of a prophecy without further explanation was confusing and frustrating for ethan growing up. he wanted the apple to be like his father; he wanted the apple to feel integrated into his community like the others who were given the gift. this denial, one that is permanent and leaves no room for ethan to change or grow and become capable of handling its strength leaves him feeling defeated and angry. his reaction of “you are an old man, and when you die i will take one” shows a very quick emotional shift and a shift from idolizing his father and wanting to be like him to practically hating him, becoming cold and distant in mere moments.

21:16 - joseph’s worry

“ethan’s sin is pride. there is something deep inside him that no word of mine can touch. i worry that now as an outsider appears to take his place that beast will feed on resentment and grow stronger. ” YEAH ITS BPD YA DINGUS fdpgpfd but more seriously, ethans pride is a coping mechanism to deal with his ever changing self image and self worth. its a rigid barrier to keep others from knowing how weak he really feels, and how uncertain he is of himself.

23:25 - ethan’s betrayal

this is where ethan betrays new eden and sets them up so the highwaymen can destroy the settlement. he tolerates the highwaymen laughing at him only so he can get what he wants: revenge. this extreme response is from his bpd. his impulsive anger, and the extremes his mind goes to won out and he acted on his violent thoughts.

26:26 - ethan and the fruit

when joseph asks ethan what hes done (referring to betraying new eden), ethan says: “i did what i had to do. i freed myself, i freed us all from you, from your rules.”. to ethan this was logical. this was something he had to do. he didn’t take pleasure in it, he didn’t go into new eden and kill everyone himself. no, he handed them over to the highwaymen in a desperate, out of touch moment. the spark was there and his disorder was gasoline that helped the flames to spread. he reacted intensely, out of irrationally extreme anger, towards an entire group of people he had shifted to undervaluing. he felt betrayed so he returned in kind, but no matter how wrong that was ethan couldnt see it.

“i will have what you denied me. you gave it to an outsider but you wouldn’t give it to me. i am your flesh and blood” and explosively tells joseph he doesnt know gods will. he lashes out against his father, arguing with him and rebelling directly by taking the one thing joseph kept him from that he truly wanted. to ethan, in my hc, the apple is more than just power and more than just something he covets. its a symbol of joseph’s fatherhood, of his love; he gave it to everyone but ethan, his own son, and now he would take what he wanted from life with or without josephs input.

31:08 - the death of ethan seed

the first thing ethan says after he sees joseph is “father… i’m sorry”. he’s scared. he knows he’s going to die. he asks if joseph can forgive him. he knows he’s fucked up, obviously, not just by eating the apple but by betraying new eden. his last word is “father”. no matter how torn his relationship was with joseph, he wanted his father’s love. he wanted connection with his father. he wanted to feel validated, have his identity confirmed, even in his last moments.

#hc #repost from old blog

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killerwhitequeen-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Black Cloud (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x reader)

Anonymous asked: Hi! I aw that requests are open and was wondering if you could do a Roger Taylor one where the reader has amnesia and they are on a relationship and the reader doesn't remember. It can be angsty or fluffy, completely up to you!

A/N: I decided to go with both angsty and fluffy, hope you all enjoy, feel free to give criticism. Tbh this one is sad gamer hours so have fun with that

Warnings: Parent Death (brief mention), drunk driving, swearing.

The day had been off to a bad start for Roger, with Freddie making him redo his perfected drum solo a multitude of times, the skin on his snare tearing, having an argument with Brian over how convoluted his songs were and of course, not being able to see you.

You were stuck in work that day, with people you disliked and customers you detested, on your feet, for eight hours straight. Breathing out a sigh you cracked your neck, letting the vertebrae down your spine pop with it, feeling an instant release from some of works tensions.

You didn't know what would happen later but you had a sinking feeling in your chest whenever you thought about the walk home. Roger was unable to pick you up that day, busy with prior engagements, like the trip to the pub the band had been promising Fred for months. You understood completely and were actually looking forward to a nice quiet walk home before settling on the settee with a cuppa and watching mindless drivel on the TV before a good, deserved nights rest. But the storm cloud brewing in your stomach would not calm, it could not be satiated until the deed was done.

You called the boys before you left work that night, wanting to hear Rogers voice before he became mindlessly drunk, the phone picked up on the second ring.

“Yuh huh?” you heard Roger moan down the phone, obviously annoyed that he was the one to have to pick it up.

“Oh what a lovely way to greet your girlfriend Roger, really something to write home to mum about” you said sarcasm practically dripping from your voice.

“(Y/N) Fuck, I'm so glad you called, I've had the worst day imaginable... but you know what would make it better?” you could nearly hear him wiggling his eyebrows through the phone, making you giggle.

“No Roger, look, I only called to say, I'm leaving work now to try and get back home before it gets dark”

“Okay sweetheart, do you want to say hi to the guys before you go? We all miss you terribly” you laughed at his horrible attempt at a posh accent before giving your affirmation.

“SAY HI TO (Y/N)!” You heard Roger call through the studio and suddenly harsh footsteps were heard from the other end of the line.

“HI” all three boys shouted at once making the phone to your ear rattle slightly from the sheer force of the vibrations.

“Hiya boys” you paused for one second before saying “now ive really got to go Rog, I love you all and Ill see you soon, love you the most Rog, see you tonight right? No sleepovers at Brians, I dont care how drunk you get, I want to see you tonight”

“Bye (Y/N)” the lads yelled, rattling the poor landline once again.

“Bye love, I promise I'll see you later, I love you more than anything princess, bye” he mumbled so the others wouldnt hear him.

“bye” you said, putting down the handset and reaching for your bag, the sinking feeling in your gut getting worse by the minute.

You decided to take the front door out of work rather than the side, opting for visibility on the main road rather than taking the scenic route back to your flat. First mistake. You decided to look to the ground whilst walking. Second mistake. One minute you heard gravel crunching beneath your feet and in a split second you heard nothing but a blood curdling scream that you realised was ripping though your own throat. All you could see was black, the dark was so dark you could hear it, maybe even taste it but you weren't sure if that was the dark or the taste of your own blood filling your mouth.

You awoke in a sterile room, that looked like it had been scrubbed floor to ceiling so many times the plaster was ready to fall off of the foundation. You went to cough, suddenly aware of the thick tube that had been shoved down your throat, you gagged around it, throat closing up in protest to the intruder before you felt it being pulled out by the gentle hand of who you assumed to be the nurse but when you looked up you saw a man with a mop of blonde hair and striking, crystal eyes. Dressed in a simple blue linen shirt that was half buttoned and tight black trousers.

He looked at you as if you had just created the world and given it to him on a silver platter.

“You're awake! They said you wouldn't wake up for another two days at least. I missed you so bad princess” he exclaimed, grabbing your hand and just as his lips where about to graze your knuckles, you screamed. And you screamed bloody murder, it go so high to the point where you were pretty sure only dogs could hear you.

Your eyes darted around the room looking for something to throw at the man in front of you, before landing on the bed pan on your bedside table. Gripping it tightly in the hand that wasn't hooked up to any machines, you swung for the stranger in front of you. Or who you at least thought was a stranger.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME YOU CREEP” you screeched, your throat sore and scratchy, whether that was from the tubing or the screaming, you were unaware, but you knew that you wanted this man far away from you, you were only 18 and this guy looked around 30, if not slightly younger, but still weird.

“(Y/N) darling what's wrong?” he looked so hurt by what you said, you almost felt bad for the guy.

“I DON'T KNOW YOU! WHY ARE YOU HERE?” you saw the sheer pain flash in his eyes before he slumped into the chair beside you, looking as if the world you had given him was burning and crumbling before his eyes.

A dazed nurse walked over to you, so you assumed it was the small hours of the morning. “What seems to be the problem Mr . Taylor?” she asked the man sat in the chair next to you and all he did was point at you before his features broke completely tears tearing down his face at an alarming rate.

“I don't know who that is” you whispered to the woman, afraid to upset the man more though you did not know why you worried, or why your heart ached for him in the way it. A sinking feeling filling your stomach like a dark storm cloud stretching throughout your insides.

“Thats your boyfriend miss (Y/L/N)” she said to you “I'll call for the doctor” she mumbles to the sad stranger.

When the doctor finally come into the room you had been sitting with the man for around fifteen minutes, him weeping into his hands, looking up at you every once in a while just for you to stare blankly into his crystalline eyes making him sob even more. The doctor checked you over, shining lights in your eyes and all other kinds of bullshit you didn't take the time to remember, you were too busy trying to memorise “Mr . Taylor's” face .

“Roger” the doctor said in order to stir the man too deep in sadness to think of much else. “She has amnesia, it should begin to pass in a few weeks but you're going to have to help jog her memory. You can take her home now, make sure to bring her in weekly for a check up on her stitches okay?”

“uh... yeah definitely, I definitely will thank you doctor Phillips.”

The doctor turned to you and started unhooking you from the machines before helping you to your feet.

“Thank you” you mutter, an unexplained guilt still filling you whilst thinking of the sad stranger.

You let 'Roger' lead you out of the hospital and into his car, Wheel in the sky by journey playing faintly through the radio and you could've sworn you had deja vu of a moment just like this from a few years ago, a man with a blurry face sat in the drivers side singing his heart out and you told him you loved him. The memory was gone as soon as it appeared and your head spun from the concentration needed just to look around the car.

By the time you were at Rogers flat, his tears had dried but he was still snuffling his nose as if in an attempt to suck the emotion back into his body. “well we're home (Y/N)”

“I don't know this place” was all you could weakly whisper in response before stepping out of the car and towards the towering block of flats in front of you.

Stepping into the cramped flat you're hit with a wave of nostalgia, making you weak in the knees, Roger holds you up by your arm pits and leads you over to the sofa in the centre of the room allowing you too fall back onto it.

“You alright love? Do you need anything? Water? Crackers? Cheese on toast? Say the word and im on it okay? Just ask”

“Tell me about “us”” you say gesturing over the 'us' with air quotes and pointing to the seat at your side.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything Roger” that was the fist time you had said his name since the incident and just hearing it made him smile radiantly, the sun should've been ashamed to shine compared to the glowing smile of the man next to you.

“Well, I'll start with what actually happened a week ago eh?” you nodded at this suggestion.

You were walking home from work alone, I couldn't come to pick you up, and you were all alone. You were just walking on a clear patch of pavement when a driver swerved due to being drunk at the wheel. Majority of the blow hit a lamppost next to you but you also took some of the brunt, you were knocked out cold (Y/N), christ as soon as I found out I ran to the hospital to see you but they said they had to induce a temporary coma due to blood on the brain. I didn't know how long I could last without you princess, you keep me level headed and I love you for that... we all do; me, Brian, Fred, Deaky especially. I need you with me always my love you keep me sane.

“I'm so sorry I wasn't there when it happened baby, I'm so fucking sorry” you sighed and took his hand

“I might not remember you right now, but I know that what happened was not your fault and you have nothing to be sorry for” you said with a conviction which your voice had not had yet that day, you knew this man was good inside and out.

That week people came to the flat to visit you, never remembering peoples faces had a tendency to make them cry. Roger continued to tell you stories throughout the time some beginning to jog memories like the angelic car moment.

We had our first kiss the first time we met, it was at a shitty uni new years party, at least it was shitty unil I saw you. You took my breath away angel, when you spoke you had the voice of a songbird, and your body... fuck it was difficult not to just ask you for a cheeky shag to be completely honest. It reached midnight and I saw you stood alone so I took my chance and asked if I could kiss you. You had been drinking beer and I could still taste it on your tongue it was heavenly. That's when I decided I wanted to take you out, do things properly date.

Roger broke the news to you that you were in fact twenty-seven and not eighteen like you though you were. He broke the news to you that your mother had died a few years prior of breast cancer. He told you how much he loved you and slowly but surely you returning to normal, remembering small details as he told a story, even the mundane ones where you would be reading in one corner of the flat with him writing songs in the other, staring at each other every once in a while eyes just filled to the brim with love.

He reminded you of all the arguments.

All the love.

The first time you told him you loved him.

The first time he said it back, nearly six months later.

He hid nothing from you and it worked wonders.

One morning you woke on the bed with Roger not lying beside you, confused you stepped out of bed, before remembering your accident, the amnesia, the pain you put roger theough.

“Babe?” you called as you stepped through the flat towards the sofa and when Roger looked at you, he already knew you remembered, there was no slightly vacant look behind your eyes. You had returned to him, his baby had returned to him and he could hope for nothing more.

He jumped off the sofa wrapping his arms securely around you and holding you tightly, he wasn't going no lose you again not now, not ever.

“(Y/N) I was working up the courage to do this before the accident, looking for the perfect time but I've now realised there is no perfect time there is only the now and we're lucky if we get that so (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) will you marry me gorgeous”

You gasped softly at the look of adoration of Rogers face as he held and you nodded, holding an onslaught of tears.

“Yes, Rog, a thousand times yes”

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