#he doesn’t have a set design yet in my Mind so i draw him very inconsistently

[scariddler]

may i humbly ask of some more scriddler doodles........pleas..e........

oh these guys?? THESE guys?!! sure whatever

[aclowntiny]

Hongjoong + Firsts

Continuing my firsts series 🥰 thanks @xlli3 for also requesting to see this! Don’t mind me giving (y/n) & joong my dream pet for the man of my dreams 🤕

First Date: The first time you officially go out, Hongjoong takes you to a paint night! He loves the idea of you guys receiving the same prompt, hearing the same instructions yet creating something different- to him, this date will more deeply capture some part of both of your essence. He already knows you, so dating is just to strengthen that! The theme is nature and sure enough, you create very different pieces, his an intricate design of plant life while you sketched an animal portrait.

First Time Holding Hands: You’re a few dates in when the late night chatting starts, both of you on your backs stargazing. The sky is like a broken string of pearls, light scattered, and the beauty has your voices quiet with awe even as you spill your innermost thoughts. Insecurity blankets you, though, itching beneath your skin harder than the blades of grass poking through holes of the quilt you laid on. Your quiet voice fails. “I- I don’t know if that makes sense…” Warmth flooded you as Hongjoong’s hand fell atop yours. He sat up, eyes fixing on yours, a soft smile upon his lips. “Of course I understand.”

First Kiss: It’s a little longer before your first kiss, definitely not because he doesn’t want to, but just so the moment is right. It’s early in the morning- a rare, sudden open time in Hongjoong’s schedule that has you getting ready at the crack of dawn. Literally. The two of you stand upon a bridge watching the sunrise, commenting of course on its beauty. “I love getting to see a new beginning like this with you,” you comment, “it feels right.” Something breaks in Hongjoong the moment you say that, drawing him in until your lips connect beneath the day’s first faint rays.

First ‘I Love You’: This was a moment you two would share in private, one that would be special if Hongjoong had anything to say about it. And he did, setting up a rooftop dinner complete with fairy lights just for you. Meal complete, he turns on a speaker, extends a hand. “May I have this dance?” You oblige him, smiling at the extra affection he’s been showing, whether it was the way his hand trailed down your arm at dinner or the way he held you tighter than usual as you swayed. Soon, though, you’re barely moving as he’s pouring his heart out to you, telling you that you’re his muse, his heart. “I love you.”

First Fight: “One day! One day is all I’m asking!” “You don’t think I would give it to you if I could?” All you wanted was for him to show a little spine, get one day off for you but it looked like yet again that wouldn’t be possible. “I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if you even try,” you shoot back, turning away from him. “You don’t think I-” Hongjoong sighs, the intense dark of his eyes subsiding. “Can you not tell how much I love you?” You were ready for him to yell, to keep going back and forth or leech more venom into his words, so the soft entreaty caught you off guard. “I just…” You sighed, too. That wasn’t fair. You knew he tried- seen it in the things he made you by hand and dates he’d set up carefully as arranging a stage. “Sometimes with it all it just feels like I’ll never be as important as your job. I let that take over.” His eyes fluttered shut, one final shudder of frustration draining from Hongjoong before he speaks again. “I know, love. I’ll try. I want to try for you, I do.”

First Anniversary: It seems like a romance novel come to life when you finally lay your eyes upon the surprise Hongjoong said he had for you. “Everyone tends to do rings,” he told you, “so I guess I wanted to do something different.” ‘Something different’ being custom-ordering a unique pair of necklaces for you each, similar but not identical, just like your unique souls. You held the chain with one hand, gently caressing the pendant with the other. It was obvious how much thought had gone into capturing your personality, something that spoke your name. “What do you think?” Hongjoong asks, glancing with a smile of uncertainty that surprised you. “Of course I love them!” You reply, all but rocket-launching into his arms, the pendant lightly striking the back of his jacket. “Happy six months,” his voice rang out in your ear as his hand wrapped around your back, pulling you close.

First Pet: “Are you sure that’s not dangerous?” Giggling, you shake your head. “Nope, he’s just a baby. Worst he can do is a nick if he bites.” “He bites?” “Only if we mess with him. Come on, you liked the idea before. Having cold feet?” Holding up the small young snake plaintively slithering along your hand where he wrapped himself, you watched Hongjoong’s apprehension melt into a smile. “No, not really. You look so cute with him. Got a name?” “Snape.” “Snape the snake?” “Yep.” Hongjoong just shakes his head, chuckling. “Alright, professor. Welcome home,” he bends down to speak to your new baby.

[spadesofgrass]

 "No pieces of mine are lost in the process." - A rare sit-down with the elusive Marguerite Thorne.

Marguerite Thorne, Drakovian royalty and a newcomer has already taken the industry by storm with her riveting high-fashion and radical, artistic concepts. Paul Carter of The Needle sits down with her for a look behind the curtains. Who is Marguerite?

(WC: 1.9k - No warnings)

It’s a beautiful afternoon at Manhattan’s Garment Center - a narrow view of which we can observe through Marguerite Thorne’s extravagant French windows in her studio as she sits down with me over Zoom. She prefers ‘Marguerite’ - a lot more sincere than the many titles her Royal roots have given her. There’s a certain tired look in her eyes she is unashamed to admit. “I wear the work in my face, my hands - you see this?” She lets me see her thumb, which is bandaged. She doesn’t expect pity either and when I attempt to, she gives me a small smile - one of reassurance.

It will be her fifth year participating at Paris very soon, with many accolades under her belt.  She appears poised, with sharp focus and an unreadable, cryptic expression that warrants more questions. The stage is set and yet she will not breathe a word about her new collection. The charisma, the kitschy floral top and the carefulness with which she takes her tea wraps her in an enigmatic package. “I don’t talk shop much. It is boring. It is long. People like the words ‘sewing’, ‘stitching’ - so I tell them what they want to hear. Nobody wants conjugations.”

However she is rather outspoken about her inspirations. From the way her studio draws inspiration from her childhood bedroom in the Drakovian Royal Palace to the meticulous design in the pen with which she writes, Marguerite doesn’t stop at merely breaking down a craft into the sum of its parts. She prefers the brainstorming - calling it “such a funny word” for she shows me her sketchbooks littered with pieces of napkins from coffee bars, wrappers from candy she enjoys and leftover fabric; the “process, in all of its messiness!” as she puts it. She is quite excited - practically at the balls of her feet like a child breaking dolls apart and putting the pieces back together - to talk about her muses. To her, being chosen as a muse is a form of her showing a dedication; weaving their heart and soul into the design. 

“For the longest time, my brother did most of the hard work. He showed up every day. We would have him twirl around in dresses, in suits, in skirts and trousers. What are you listening to, we’d ask. Have you been to any art shows? Did you smoke any weed? My good friends, they visit Via Montenapoleone, they go to Brera. They go to oceans, seas, warehouse parties to get into the fast life. I tried. Never worked out for me.”

Marguerite prides herself in being a homebody. She likes the comfort of home and cites American reality TV shows as ‘potent noise' that helps her get into her work. She invites models to have breakfast with her at home. She conducts team meetings in parks. Her unconventional technique prioritises comfort. Her methods of moulding her design after her muse’s “daily musings” as she so lovingly puts it - helps her visualise the rich colour and the vibes. A fast worker, Marguerite enjoys the rush of a new idea. A box of bandages are always kept at her desk, for her mind moves faster than her hands. 

“My brother gets very chatty on Sundays. They're always on about one of their friends. Suede jackets, dark watery coffee, a singular gold earring. It's about the vibes. Getting used to New York’s fashion and adapting it to my palate was perhaps the biggest project in my career.”

We chat a little more about Drakovian fashion. She is hesitant to broach the subject of the Royal Family, brushing it off and murmuring a little about lawsuits as a joke and steers her thoughts into the gold that exists everywhere in the streets of Drakkos. Cold weather calls for practicality more than aesthetics. The Royal Family are hardly the type to drape themselves in shades of gold, for they prefer dotting their everyday greys with metallic silver or humble reds with drops of pearls. A surprising contrast. A comforting unease. A blend of familiar and novel so it doesn't resemble a betrayal. Marguerite considers herself Drakovian first. The music, the chatter, the food and the energy are the only things she's willing to take home. “Pieces that find itself-” she says. Where? Which pieces? The answers lie in silence. 

Marguerite is adamant on keeping her muses at arm's distance. Perhaps it is with an intention to not draw attention to her older sibling, Trystan Thorne whose latest stint left the Kingdom of Drakovia in perplexity over the summer, but she makes it quite clear her brother is not the cornucopia at this table. She snacks on sunflower seeds, a source of sustenance she credits a mutual friend for introducing her to. With a close circle of confidants, Marguerite has a more reclusive social life; tiptoeing around the usage of the word - ‘friend’.

“I love my people. I party with them, I light their cigarettes. I treasure every chance I get with them a lot. People fly like clouds. People change and leave. It isn't wrong. As someone with many years left to go, I treasure these moments because I may not get the same moments when I grow up.” Her choice of words are deliberate. Marguerite is still a child at heart. She loves talking about her brother, she embraces the slowness in a fast-moving culture, she wants to share her stories drawn in bright crayons. Unattracted to labels and boxes, Marguerite prefers doing her own thing. It is a privilege in this world tied down to roles and expectations. Even the unreachable ones in her industry are not immune to it. 

“People are surprised when they ask me if I am royalty.” she laughs, “I like having my identity a separate thing. I put parts of myself in my work. But I don't lose anything. No pieces of mine are lost in the process. I hope so.”

Marguerite has done her homework and she is here to answer all of my quizzes for her. To her, the term fashion icon means little. She chuckles, saying perhaps the royal blood in her tends to cleanse her tongue of its humility, but she's quite thorough in her research. Stewd, precise, a surgeon's cut - she cites Thierry Mugler’s avant-garde geometricism as some of her greatest inspirations to work on structure. Silk and cotton are her best friends. Strength and texture are maternal entities in her craft and yet, she never tells. My stabs in the dark are futile, even worse are my attempts at humour. 

“I don't see the point in explaining my work. You see it and you interpret it the way you like it. It is a bit like putting a hat on a hat. My family used to ask me all the time. Make pretty dresses. What is pretty? They mean regal. Controlled and less voluminous. To them that is pretty. Sleek. They like my clothes. I made several pieces for my Mother. I hope she loves them.”

A traditional Marguerite piece is a coveted possession. A personally commissioned one? That is a rare jewel. She shakes her head, playfully chiding me for making her sound more mysterious than she already is. Her charming brown hair with red highlights, her charismatic Drakovian accent slipping through the cracks of her painfully-built New Yorkish character, the warmth in her laugh is enough for any unassuming stranger to proclaim her inviting. 

Each one of her personal pieces is thoroughly made, rendering it inherently special. The elites at Hollywood have placed glorious commissions. Marguerite only makes a few. A young prodigy being patient or an old soul being selective? The only box she wishes to be contained in is the video call panel in which she visibly struggles to adjust her camera. She doesn't have assistants, calling them strictly “her people”. She encourages one of them to wave at me as they pass by with armfuls of packages. What does it take to get a personal piece directly from Marguerite’s closet, woven by her hands?

“I am not as trendy to be such a prodigy. My passion started because I wanted to make clothes for my people. I never learned to sew. I would outsource the hard work to other people. School was not my thing. But I knew colours well and perhaps, with a few bandages, I can learn how to sew. And maybe I can learn how to dye. How to feel colour. Maybe with that I can build shapes. I was learning kindergarten lessons.”

She continues after another sip of her tea. “I really enjoy working with people. They guide me. It is an elaborate process. They must be patient.”

A dig at the Hollywood elites? Marguerite is very tight-lipped about her clientele but her connections to North America’s jewels and Europe’s castles have certainly put her high on the contact list. Not to mention an endorsement from Vogue - ‘A Marguerite Summer’, showcases at two of the Big Four and not many public interviews have made an up-and-coming figure to watch out for. And yet, she believes nothing is greater than getting a letter back from home. Family is a sour subject but clothes heal the soul. 

She recalls the time her Mother called her up to say thank you for a winter ball gown. “She never asked. I made it. She's never attended a dance since 1992.” Nothing is off the table between the mother and daughter pair, as she walks us through a typical conversation. They find themselves so far away, on small screens, chatting about velvet- a Marlboro in both of their hands, a glass of red, some hush-hush talk. Marguerite effortlessly plays off the “cool internet girl” persona and once you mix in her love for her family, she possesses the best of both worlds - trendy and traditional, with a spot of her usual campy grim humour. 

“My motto has always been to get people to know themselves. Funerals, weddings, parties, you name it. Fashion is a big part of people's identity and I would be happy to be a part of that journey as they explore that.”

What makes her tick is her steadfastness - something the Old Guard in the fashion community are in desperate need for. She’s a swift businesswoman whose ambitions are so practical and rarefied and succinct that bleeds into the stitches she creates and thus, the tapestry she weaves. When she brought Empty to New York Fashion Week during September of this year, the industry was positively stunned. Her ability to intermix Drakovia’s quick-footedness with American streetwear - deep with intricate designs that hinted at this unique kind of rebelliousness the youth share in spades is almost effortless and yet, the rugged permanence of her collection leaves a lavish, uncaring impression in people’s minds, compared to the fast fashion trends of today and tomorrow. She’s perhaps more than a star - an undescribed flying object, without labels, without her identity condensed down into a single collection. Marguerite confesses she hates the job and yet, it is a helpless addiction.

“I just have too many ideas and too little time. Maybe that must be why I don’t go home often. I’d like to go home if they will have me, haha.” She rubs the back of her neck, as she’s telling me where she stands with her family. Artists are always doomed for a life of loneliness, she thinks. “No matter what I do, it is just me here. And I create some of my best work. I reserve many chairs. I hope they care for me and show up. I do not care if I have a legacy. That is the least of my concern. What about the present? What can I do to make things better?”

____

A/N: I hc Mags' fashion label's called Empty (Empty sounds like M.T, her initials).

If you'd like to be tagged, lmk!

Tagging some people who might be interested: @thosehallowedhalls @coffeewithcutcaffeine @choicesmc

[sixty-silver-wishes]

When I was a kid, the Appalachian/Southern US folk tale “Tailypo” used to scare the shit out of me. I’ve been wanting to illustrate a short horror story for a while, so today, I’ve been sketching out concepts for my own take on “Tailypo.” These definitely still need work (especially when it comes to the animal anatomy!) but I thought I’d share what I have so far:

So, first is the "Tailypo" itself. I devoted an entire page to this thing because I know it's probably going to go through a lot of changes, so I decided to start experimenting with what worked for me and what didn't. While many adaptations describe it as looking like a cat with a large tail, I wanted to make my Tailypo a mixture of animals- a wolverine, a cat, a mountain lion, a raccoon, and a weasel. Obviously, the tail had to be the most prominent part of the design, so I made it longer than the creature's body, with a jagged pattern. I think the Tailypo would be a very flexible animal, able to twist its body and slip into small spaces, so I modeled the body shape after a weasel, while giving it the back legs of a cat since its torso was higher above the ground. I'm still working out the details with its teeth; I want them to give it a frightening appearance, but I'm not sure whether I should base them off of a real animal or further stylize them.

I'm having a lot of fun designing the old man's cabin, although I can't yet settle on how I want it to look:

I've been looking at pictures of run-down Appalachian cabins, particularly from the 19th century (the story could be set any time, but I'm choosing to base my designs somewhere between the late 1800s and early 1900s), and they're giving me a lot to work with in terms of stylization. In terms of inspiration, I wanted to draw the crooked tree trunks supporting the porch in the first picture below, as well as the door and the uneven roof shingles in the second one.

Lastly, here are the old man and his three dogs. I was admittedly sort of running out of steam when I was drawing these, so the dog anatomy sorta sucks, but I just wanted to get my ideas down.

The old man is a hunter who lives alone in the woods, so I gave him a rifle and long facial hair because I don’t think he’d be super concerned with shaving his beard. He's heavily based on this picture:

To add more to his character, because he's starving and desperate enough to eat the tail of a strange creature he doesn't recognize, I made him very thin, with his clothes falling apart, like his hat and shoe. His eyebrows and beard will help to exaggerate his facial expressions throughout the story.

The three dogs were drawn with shape language in mind. I wanted to make them all distinct shapes and sizes. Their names vary across versions of the story, but in most of the ones I could find, their names are typically some variant of "Uno," "Ino," and "Calico." This adds for the bit that scared me most as a kid, where, after the Tailypo kills the dogs and the old man insists he doesn’t have its tail, it tells him “you know, I know, you’ve got my tailypo” before killing him. I wanted to incorporate the dogs’ names into their designs- “Uno” is made of round shapes to reflect the round letters in his name, “Ino” is a bloodhound based in triangular shapes since his name is a play on “I know” and triangles are associated with intelligence in shape language, and “Calico” is a Dalmatian based in square shapes. I also wanted to give each dog a collar that not only reflects their shape language, but also will allow the audience to know they’ve been killed by the Tailypo when their collars are all that’s left of them.

There’s still quite a bit for me to design and workshop before I get into illustrating this story, but I’m really excited! I really want to give it the same creepy feeling I had when I was a kid reading it for the first time.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan @ SBMS fox factory interview 1/2 :

XZ: friends of fox factory, hello! i am xiao zhan~

hello~ watching SBMS it feels so real. everyone says that this is not xiao zhan this is the representative work of my leaders and colleagues…have you seen those funny comments?

XZ: i haven’t see anything so funny yet

we want to know if there were any moments where your designer dna moved when you played shengyang.

XZ: from the moment i stepped into the company, see the workstation, see the brush, at the moment when i see the hand-painted board…my dna is already jumping wildly.

the director said he didn’t expect you to sit in the workstation and you know all those software on the computer.

XZ: well, i used to work (with those software)

they are all nightmare memories, aren’t they?

XZ: no~ it’s a good memory

you understand the method very well because i watch the tidbits when you choose the clothes and you mentioned something with grayscale, pinkish…i didn’t expect anyone to say it so accurately what else do you have in your mind? what’s the difference between this and the colorful black?

XZ: ah no~

what kind of air shots are there in the play? big bath towel, hurry to the elevator, brake, draw a bunny on the bread and call her ex-husband, there is also an ultraman appearance, which of them are designed by yourself?

XZ: it’s through our verification process…actually, it’s all rather than using the word design in the drama “SBMS” why don’t we say that many of them are things that reveal the truth at the moment, i didn’t preset. this is also something i really like, it’s just very real. when the director was in the rack position, he will hide a lot of seats, that’s what i mean by hiding. it’s because you can feel his existence and he create the most relaxed environment for actors.

i’m impressed…the director also said this, he told us that you got your wake up scene filmed. however, there are 8 direct shots from 8 camera positions that have not been released.

XZ: yes, yes, it seems to be…he’s really good at it. what makes him really powerful is that he used to shoot the scenes before, we will habitually save the emotions for close up before presenting them but often the feeling of people are the most precious at the present moment. the great thing about the director is that they have a long-range, medium-range close-up. he can catch it all.

do you like this kind of thing? several angles are filming at the same time. you don’t have to go through it many times.

XZ: usually when i go to the scene, i don’t even look at the cam seats. i will just pretend it doesn’t exist.

he said you are so smart, says you memorize your lines very well, you will just memorize it at once on the spot and then pass it, and he said that if you screw it or you stuck you would treat them to dinner.

XZ: ah yes, yes, ah director is really….my personal habit is that i will memorize all the line in advance, i will also be familiar with co actor’s line and then we joked at the scene that “whoever eat the screw they have to drink the water.”

you wear the same inner shirt in the first 16 episodes did you also notice the design?

XZ: i don’t know if it kiwi, or mango, when i try on the clothes. during the try on actually there are many clothes, including some major brands of the clothing but how can we make audience believe in shengyang growth, environment and the things he has experienced. i even wear different clothes every day for work, i can’t make audience believe it, i can’t convince myself either that basically the same outfit for work, because when i used it to work i will have a set of clothes for work. something just makes me feel comfortable at work, because you are at work station, you will sit for half an hours or even longer.

so wear those nice clothes only when you are not working…

XZ: that’s right

which of shengyang’s behavior that will make you feel that it shouldn’t rise to xiao zhan? being a spoiler when parents quarrel, when parents reconcile, act as a microphone..

XZ: i can do it too.

start work at 8am, you are in a hurry but still do an exercise…

XZ: it seems that i used to do the same, because i think it’s the way to wake up my brain quickly.

no matter how late you lie down, you have to play with your phone before going to bed?

XZ: this is of course a very bad habit. i think everyone doesn't have to imitate this. i think you can just sit down and lean against the bed. lie down against the bed is really bad for you eyes.

do you subconsciously put all the items within your line of sight in a centralized.

XZ: did i?

you turned a can bottle on the set and be sure to put its trademark facing out.

XZ: maybe it’s what the director told me that we need to shoot the logo that what i did right? i shouldn’t be that obsessive-compulsive

(Interviewer plays a compilation of him being OC)

because this time you going back to chongqing to filming SBMS we want to know how you feel.

XZ: very happy and relaxed.

some people say that the following is the darkest moment for chongqing people. i want to know how you feel about these things?

XZ: [he read the qs] [eat small noodles, there are no chili paper inside, there are no vegetables either]…i can’t do this…

can only choose one option

XZ: vegetable. it’s not good to eat spicy food now.

XZ: [driving with friends from other places, using navigation or going the wrong way]

XZ: this is really happened. especially after i haven’t been back for so long, the road conditions is really unfamiliar.

XZ: [go to hongya cave to eat hot pot]… i won’t tell them about this.

hongya cave is a special tourist destination…

XZ: it’s not like that…

then why you can’t eat hot pot there?

XZ: well, maybe everyone has different taste, (after all) hongya cave is a very important place in chongqing.

you are worthy of being the ambassador of our city.

XZ: [going to ktv and sing the chongqing dialect rap] i think if we go with a very familiar friend then okay for everyone to have fun and make some scene isn’t it?

because they said it always be the stereotype of people in chongqing. you have to ask them to say something to any ktv you go to

XZ: i don’t think they were supposed to sing that…emm…never mind

eh which one?

XZ: the chongqing version of “fire” when we were at school this version was very popular.

have you sung this before?

XZ: no, but everyone enjoy it.

[horseshoemybeloved]

wait i am really intrigued with your versions of the suitehearts i love the designs and seeing your take on them so please infodump about them to me about this obscure fob au that i’ve been insane about for years

It is now time for my long ass ( my version of the ) suitehearts masterpost * wiggles fingers *

Keep in mind!!!

So basically first things first, my versions of ‘em are Completely different characters. Some draw/view the suitehearts as fob in silly costumes ( which is super chill ) but my versions are very different. So when I say “ Benzedrine is a repressed gay wizard obsessed with abba“ I am in no ways implying that Patrick is a repressed gay wizard obsessed with abba. There are some similarities between people but it is never intentional. ( also I’m constantly changing stuff nothings set in stone lol )

Da world!

The world is kinda like a purgatory, everyone there has died but could move to another plane. Thusly there are people from all different decades. Magic is very common here, a lot of people can do small basic spells. But it takes years of practice to become a wizard, and decades to become a good one. There are 5 main,,, species? Races? I’m not quite sure how to label em. But we have:

your average human, nothing really of note here

elemental benders ( they are born with a cavity in their chest relating to what “ element “ they control. Some control water some Disco music! )

Pixies/sprites, they usually have abnormal colored skin, pointy ears, and the ability to float around. They naturally have good connection with spirits and can summon them when needed ( if they’re good at it )

Angels, they’re naturally fun colors, have magical hair, and vaguely cow like ears?. Angles can use their magic to make themselves look like normal humans tho. They usually live together and provide comfort for people. But there has been a rebellion happening and now a lot of angels try and live life not for the sole service of others but now for themselves ( is allegory 4 womanhood moment )

And then of course furries xoxo

Now the reason you even started reading this, info about the suitehearts!

Dr. benzedrine is vaguely narcissistic and full of himself, but in an oddly charming way. Personality wise hes a mixture of howl ( hmc ) without Any of the swauve, mostly just the dramatics, and aziraphale ( good omens ). Hes a middle aged man who Will Not admit hes gay, he is Incredibly repressed. He was apart of the huge royal academy of wizards, best one they’d ever had. But had a falling out with the leader in charge and now just has his own little wizard store. He befriended Donnie at a little diner because he made a reference to a Kate bush or Fiona apple song, or something or other. Him and sandman do Not get along, sandman often visits the store just to annoy him. But they have more similarities than they know, they just need to stop bitching at eachother!

( also he was born like 5’ something but the spirits in charge of transferring people to this plane were like “ I’d be mad funny if we made him really short he’d be so mad “ )

He is my autistic little meow meow 😔🙏

Horseshoe has a regal flowyness to him, semi-oblivious to his own charm, and loves to dance the night away. When everyone around him is disheveled and falling apart, he still manages to look fantastic. He appears to be the dumb blonde of the group, which he definitely doesn't mind and loves to indulged in the trope. ( he may not know where or even what Sweden is but at least hes pretty ) But he is a deeply creative person, and that in its own special way shows an intelligence. He works at a small local craft store ( bcus then he gets first dibs on all the cool new art supplies :D ) he is an angel, but chooses to focus his little magical power on constantly disguising himself cus he doesn’t wanna be bothered lol.

Donnie is very nurturing and kind, yet extremely energetic and bubbly, think kinda like,,, super sweet valleygirl. He’s slightly based off YouTuber Garret watts. He is very big solid guy. He has a bit of a problem with feeling like he Needs to take care of everyone, like it’s job ( he’s workin through it in therapy ) Like I mentioned there are people who are like elemental benders, Donnie is one of them. He has a little terrarium with either a mushroom or a daisy, and can make vines grow from his hands and legs. Donnie is also autistic ( heavily based on my experiences with it, he’s also just kinda heavily based off of me ) He's from da 60s, during the whole hippy thing.

Sandman is your typical bitchy mallgoth, who goes around calling everyone a " poser" and everything " poser shit " they put up a bitchy angry front but deep down theyre an insecure sensitive little guy. Sandman is a Pixie so that means they can summon these ( usless ) spirit guys ( they’re not very good at it ) shes also kinda Super into typical """ cringey """ stuff from 2015 ( ie undertale, fnaf, the lving tombstone, mlp ) Sandman is semi kinda not really it’s complicated openly non-binary, but still seems to repress quite a bit and just push away all deeper feelings. I thought it would be interesting to experiment with a character who is a trans femme gay guy, kinda like a reverse trans masc lesbian I guess. Idk lol don’t get mad at me

Anything else kiddo?

The format id choose to express this story would def be a movie. Uhhh… I can’t really think of much else right now, but feel free to ask questions I luv talking about em :3

[longhands-the-second]

Trimax vol. 3 notes

UGH UGH UGH

This cover is so sexy. The colors make my brain go brrr

I read and typed this the night before, oops. I needed something to make me less bored and sad and by god I got it. (<- has so much homework he doesn’t even want to look at it)

1- Based on what i’ve seen of future installments there’s a trend in the particular kind of body horror nightow likes to draw huh

The color of blood? Literally blood? I wasn’t sure if he was actually crying blood in the previous volume or not or if the tears were just darker bc art shit. I think his vibes are like that of a bird of prey. If that’s what we’re getting at here? (At least this version of him is. Stampede is a different beast. Somehow both cuttlefish and like, crow? I’m still yelling about the stampede finale-)

Does having high bullshit tolerance make you less human somehow…? What’s the logic here?

Is wolfwood saying that to him directly? Fucked up if so. He does NOT need more piled on him right now

2- im just flashing back to 98 wolfwood saying he’s never fired a gun before-

Does gray have the same sort of top that Vash had? The almost-tubing on the sides? Or is that just a favorite design thing?

That was pretty much all just fight scene huh.

3- EW EW EW

god, it’s only just now hitting that these are the faces of people he knew. People he cared about. Christ.

:( i want to get off of mr bones wild ride

I’m not like. Gagging or anything i just hate it.

The thing about Vash being quiet angry is that it’s almost got this elegance to it. Like his mind has left his body and he’s just running on his experience and skill now. He’s pissed and he’s dissociating. I feel like the whole room gets icy when he’s like that, even if you’re outside in the suns.

NO OH NO GOD-

FUCK I KNEW THAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN AND I STILL WASNT READY

4- does. Does he know him???

Oh hell.

He set off the sprinklers???

WET HAIR VASH

5- brad is much more of a character than i was expecting.

God i can just hear wolfwood in that moment

Well. Yikes.

HAHAHSJSJJS milly jumpscare

6- what the fuck that piano is so cool

Seeing vash with both arms feels illegal somehow

Or no, does it have some kind of cover on it? Or is that what it looks like below those gloves?

He is SOOOO not okay right now

Woah damn is that what luida looks like here?

Im sure he’s just beyond relieved to see people lived.

Oh wow. Im… proud of him for admitting it? Something like that? God he looks so tired

“Woah vash you’re fucking ancient aren’t you???”

7- he is a solid 70% leg. Good for him.

He looks so normal it’s very strange.

True immortality???? Maybe that’s why knives is baby smooth every time we’ve seen him. (Ick.) (there’s some part of me that wants so badly to like knives on the grounds that I understand where he’s coming from but he’s literally the fucking worst.)

There goes his arm. Again. Why is it always that one?

He genuinely reads like a different person with his hair down. Maybe that’s just me.

Did. Did nightow give mike mignola a copy of trigun. Better yet did he read it? We’re asking the real questions here.

(I made a poll for Vash’s vibes and the results are mostly exactly what I expected? Will post my findings. Manga Vash has the most variety so far.)

((Will I be able to do anything cool for Vash’s birthday? Who knows. Crossing my fingers I can hold it together that long, I am SO done with my summer classes and I wanna go home.))

(((I have had the worst stampede brainrot recently. It’s the purple color scheme and the flowers and the everything at the end. It fuckin EATS. I want to hold him gently.)))

[lumilasi]

This feels kinda funny because I already had like...3-4 versions of this ref in my files. However, I still had to post this as new given I adjusted some details + added that channeling form for Azul.

I meant to do something else today, but since I only had one thing to add for Azul's ref, figured I'd get this out of the way. I initially meant to put him and Reuben together, but Reuben's design needs bigger adjustments so...its just my favorite coffee-powered grumpy boy dealing with a demanding grandpa.

......I still struggle with drawing his beard, haven't figured out yet how to draw it well lmao

Texts + extra info below:

Azul Samaros, the heir of the Shadow King

Basics:

Age: 27

Family: Twin brother Reuben, adoptive parents Annabell & Lionel, Younger brother Adam

Love interest: Diojas Vermonte, eldest prince of Valerna

Being type: Human Mage, specializing in Dark Arts and ancient magic from his ancestral kingdom

Familiar: Lasha, a Lost Soul snake/Naga demon who was once an Arthanosian warrior. (He lost himself to his power’s corrupting influence.)

Abilities:

He is very knowledgeable about different curses and dark magic spells/objects, knowing how to recognize and deal with majority of them. He‘s also a skilled exorcist, and is good with all sorts of intelligence gathering tricks, be it magic based, or more old-fashioned espionage. Azul can channel his ancestor Amaros’ magic, which is his primary ability. He‘s also good with stabby things.

Personality summary:

Azul shares some similarities in personality with his mentoring ancestor; he’s also typically serious, not at all interested in small talk, and is often blunt with his words. However, beneath his rough exterior Azul is a very caring and kind individual, who’s not willing to sacrifice people for “the greater good” the same way Amaros would. He’s a very trustworthy and loyal friend, which is why he has quite a few, despite seeming like someone hard to befriend.

Role Summary:

Azul is the protagonist of this character set, mainly working as the Dark Arts expert mage for their home Kingdom’s Queen. His task is mostly to protect the citizens from, and investigate unseen threats that are better off not being public knowledge. He does also have an involuntary role as the “problem solver” of his friends and family, the person who people most often come to if they mess up a spell or fool with a cursed object without their knowledge. While he grumbles about it, Azul doesn’t really mind.

Azul’s more personal, primary mission is to fulfill the task his ancestor-turned-Deity Amaros gave him, in exchange for saving him and his brother’s lives. He ended up with this job, because of his unique ability to channel Amaros’ power far better than anyone before him, to the point in rare circumstances he can wield his full power and command Amaros’ Lost Souls.

Amaros essentially saved them by bringing them to his former lover Helias’ secret kingdom Mirthas, after the boys’ father caused Reuben’s elemental power to go out of control, killing everyone in their village accidentally. Amaros saved Helias’ life and demanded that in exhange for his help, they’d give the boys a new home and help with learning to control their abilities. The pair ended up being adopted by the local doctor, Lionel, and his opera singing wife Annabell. (Later on, as the boys became adults, they moved to live in another kingdom called Valerna)

OTHER FACTS

Basically, there's 3 Kingdoms relevant to Azul and his brother: Arthanos (A warrior kingdom their family originated from) Mirthas (A hidden kingdom mostly populated by mythical beings) and Valerna (their current home, a friend kingdom of Mirthas)

Their adoptive parents are mythical beings as well; Lionel is a Chesire cat, and Annabell is a songbird. Their little brother and Lionel & Annabell's biological child Adam is also a Chesire cat.

When using his ancestor's Deity powers, he can 1. control shadow element, 2. create weapons out of the crystal structures, these things can harm one's soul without damaging the body if he wishes so. 3. Use telepathy to communicate with people beyond just Lasha, 4. summon more demons and command them for a bit. 5. be invulnerable to everything not strong enough to harm/kill a Deity for a very short period of time. (Basically immune to everything outside other Deities' powers)

The crystals on his body when in Channeling form emanate from his tattoos, he gained those when he first began channeling Amaros' powers. They do sometimes ache a bit if he uses this power for too long.

Diojas ended up falling for Azul after the mage helped him figure out and undo a curse that had been secretly put on him at birth.

Azul mainly has female friends, and gets pretty annoyed if anyone makes suggestive comments about it, either scaring the shit outta them or letting the ladies do it themselves if they feel like it.

These friends include Miriam, a Clairvoyant/Medium, Lumi, a snow magic Warlock, Avara, Lumi's sister and an Astral mage, Scarlet, a ship captain, and Mirthas' other ruler, Helias' sister Gwendolyn.

He does have male friends too of course, such as Scarlet's brother Alexei, The current prince of Arthanos Joshua, and Miriam's childhood friend and Wyvern companion, Maxwell.

Azul is typically serious, but does have a sense of humor and a mischievous side, that tends to come out mainly around Diojas, Reuben, or during their world's equivalent of Halloween, known as Hollow Twilight or Hollowlight Eve. (he's basically pulling the best and scariest pranks out there)

He got his snake by attempting to summon himself a familiar, as his adoptive father figured that could be helpful for him; none of them realized he's likely summon a demon from his own ancestry.

Lasha basically gained his sense of self and sanity back thanks to being summoned by Azul, the literal child of their Deity. Lasha is very protective over his Master, and the pair have a very close friendship between them.

Azul is a night owl and often gets scolded by his brother, friends, or his brother's Familiar Djinn Athem over it. The best person(s) to get him to sleep are his mum, dad, or Diojas.

Lot of Azul's outfit is a reference to people close to him; His overcoat is one of Lionel's old ones, the bag was given to him by Annabell, and his choker is a "gift" from Diojas; he basically just used it to cover a nasty wound as they didn't have proper bandaging with them at the time, and Azul just kept wearing it. His crystal knife of course, is a weapon Amaros gave him.

When in his Channeling form, the choker's pattern changes from the peacock feather representing Diojas to the purple star representing Amaros.

Azul's hair also turns into more of a white flame essence in Channeling form, and the main reason it remains poofy looking even when normal is due to his connection with Amaros. His hair would naturally hang lower and be more scraggly.

Azul sometimes calls Amaros "Gramps" or "old man," and is the only one who can get away with it (Reuben too, but Reuben is too polite and nice to insult Amaros)

Azul is closer with their adoptive dad than mum, given he was the one initially mentoring him with his powers. He's also not as close with Adam as Reuben, as Azul is kind of bad with kids, and Adam is much younger than them. He still loves his baby brother of course.

[2-lines-and-a-circle]

Tamaki Suoh, he’s an almond.

Disclaimer: Most of the post has spoilers and is mainly based on the anime. 

Link to where it all started: 2 Lines & A Circle : Flavors of love: chocolate edition So I was... (tumblr.com)

As I have previously mentioned in the description of team almond, Tamaki is undoubtedly a member of team almond. He is the very base of what makes someone an almond. While I dive deep into his making of an almond, please keep in mind I will use the anime for my references instead of the manga. Now that we have that out of the way let’s go!

Team almond details: 2 Lines & A Circle : Flavor of Love: Team Almond In-depth Description (tumblr.com)

Let’s start from the outward appearance of Tamaki, since it plays an important role. Whatever you see from the outside is typically what you get on the inside. For Tamaki, we see how he has this princely gentleman look, which is undoubtedly a part of him. One of Tamaki’s first moments are of him actually trying to teach Haruhi the gentlemen ways of the pinky.

In contrast to Kyoya, we see a much softer look to our princely host, this creates a more approachable look that draws people. Having a friendly atmosphere is a striking note that he belongs with team almond. Similar to him is Tetsurō Kuroo who also shares a more approachable look to their character design. The two typically have a smile on their face that is an honest representation of how they’re feeling. On top of that, we see the two are constantly surrounded by people. An almond is almost never left on their own voluntarily, Tamaki is no exception.

At Tamaki’s very core he is someone who feeds off of helping others and being surrounded by those close to him. It’s no lie that he values quality time more than anything too. All in all this adds to his qualities of being on team almond, but that isn’t exactly all there is to it.

Team almond is the representation that the more you grow to know someone the more you grow you see of them. At the same time, you’re not leaving them behind, rather you’re voluntarily seeking out more of them. Which is similar to when you eat a chocolate bar with almonds. The more you bite through the more almonds you come across, but you’re not stopping yourself. Applying this ideology to Tamaki and we’ll see how he matches the mold.

From the start of the anime, we form the idea that Tamaki is a fool who is too kind and enjoys the fun of life. Yet, the show continues one we see that just isn't all there is to him as a character. For instance, when he meets Shiro, Tamaki doesn’t hesitate to take him under his wing to be a host. In fact, after learning his reason for trying to be a host, Tamaki then sprints full speed ahead. Or during the newspaper episode Tamaki never doesn’t back down in helping them despite their bad intentions being increasingly obvious. Despite all this one might ask what Tamaki gets in return for helping others. Well, the answer is nothing, see Tamaki feels the happiest when he is helping others. Another way to think about it is an instinct for him to always extend a handout to those in need.

Leadership is a strong characteristic of those who belong in team almond. Many members of this team are those who lead instead of follow. As a leader they aspire to accomplish a simpler goal than something overly complicated. Something like sharing happiness or getting number one are such examples. The other detail about Tamaki’s leadership is how natural it is. He is someone who takes action to make things happen the most, even if some of his ideas are planted by Kyoya. This is seen as he is fast to start the club with ideas of who to get as well as how fast he shuts the club down. There’s also no struggle in status or position with someone from team almond as a leader.

Besides all of these qualities there are plenty more I could list on and on, but that's for another time. In the end, Tamaki has the complete list of traits that make up team almond. This doesn't set him apart from his teammates either as he shares those qualities with them. Still, it goes to show how at his core Tamaki wouldn’t belong in any other team besides team almond.

[brodudemanbroski]

for the 4 people <3

so i still need to draw/create designs for Pocket, Gregory, and Christophe. and if I really want to, I might add Rebecca?? IDK BUT ANYWAY

this was all drawn last night at a party i hated so ignore any wonky doodles and very bad photos. i promise ill redraw them later AND finish the other designs

this is a long post so if you don’t wanna see it all, don’t click the read more

This is “Havisham” aka Estella, she does not care for a proper performance name, so she uses her last name. She has no specific performance, she often announces the circus beginning, some of the acts they might see then picks on people in the audience if they aren’t listening or are misbehaving. She starts the show but pulling a little bunny out of a hat and hands it to Pocket. She stands on the sidelines to make sure everything goes as planned. I have changed my mind about doing an act for ending the show, she will simply walk out and say thank you etc etc. Her drawing is super wonky but </33

This is “Pop” aka Pip, you can read the photo but he’s a sad clown, despite him being quite cheerful and happy out of his performance. His entire performance is him being insulted, clumsy, and messing things up. I am actually drawing him right now, digitally. But I’m halfway through the base. How his performance begins is he chases after one of Pocket’s bunnies and trips over, hopefully getting the audience to laugh. The end of his performance is him finally being happy and showing a smile, only to be almost set on fire (or at least his puffball on his hat) by Damien, which makes him run backstage.

This is “Omen” aka Damien, again you can read the info in the photo but I’m still gonna overexplain. He eats, dances, and does tricks with fire. All of it combined together into a long dance, he doesn’t speak at all. If he ever does, he comes off as rude. Damien’s performance is for the wow factor, not for comedy. We already discussed how he starts his performance, how he ends it is throwing one of the torches into the air for Gregory or Christophe to catch. honestly, help this man, he hates how his costume is all out there and has tassels going all over the place, he has attempted to incorporate burning the tassels in his performance but Estella always shuts that idea down.

Now for the unfinished people.

Pocket, no performance name yet, he is an animal tamer. But, he isn’t taming lions or any other big scary animals.. he tames small pretty harmless animals. More cute, he will do tricks with them and even do a small comedy show with one of them. He takes care of them all by himself, treating them like his own kids. I mentioned how his performance starts and how it ends (Seeing Pip chase after one of his bunnies). Because I have no design for him, I’ll discuss it. It’s pretty regular, similar to my many many MANY other au outfits for him, aka cool suit with a cute little tie/bow tie. He will where more similar clothes to Estella, the tail coat suit, a fun big bow tie. Basically all it is. Considering making him where a hat with built in animal ears but I don’t know..

Gregory, I have an idea but it’s so basic (Mister, it matches with Christophe), he is an acrobat. He performs with Christophe, being a duo. He uses trapezes most of the time but if needed, he do know how to perform with silk and on tightrope. Gregory has a more bold costume, having brighter colours, more sparkles, etc. His hair is always in a ponytail, tied back with a ribbon. I think I might make it fit their performance name if I stick with it where they dress like gentleman, and Gregory still has the bolder parts to it. He will perform more than Christophe, as he will often DO the actual moves while Christophe sets him up for them (Despite being able to do them himself.)

Christophe, again have an idea but it’s very basic (Monsieur, it matches with Gregory), he is also an acrobat. Like I mentioned, works with Gregory blah blah blah we get it. He only knows how to perform with trapezes and tightrope, he will never trust silk performances for the life of him, but will gladly watch and judge Gregory. Christophe’s costume is a contrast to Gregory’s, as he doesn’t like bolder things. The colours are darker, with a slight sparkle. His hair isn’t long enough to be put up in any way. He can do actual moves and some being able to do by himself, but he often sticks with moving Gregory around and setting him up for tricks, while he sticks with simpler ones.

HEADS UP: I HAVE NEVER GONE TO A CIRCUS LET ALONE KNOW TERMINOLOGY SO… WISH ME LUCK, PLEASE HELP ME IF I GET STUFF WRONG. dies.

ermmm yeah.. so.

stares at you.

foreign kids circus au. already have 3 out of the 6 (possibly 7) designs.

anyone wanna see

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Being Villagers

Based off this story prompt/fill (X) where you are born with a designation like Hero, Demon King, Blacksmith, etc.

Your name is Dolly. You are a Villager. You, as well as anyone, know what that means.

-------------------.

You are sixteen and it is your first day at school.

Your first lesson is that Villagers are the only ones who start so late.

“Because there’s not much to be taught,” a boy says. His clothes are made of finer cloth than your mother’s wedding dress and his hair is as shiny as the brass buckles on his shoes. He grins at you, as proud as a peacock in front of half the class. “Don’t need to ask what your Destiny is, do I?”

You don’t know why he’s singling you out. A quick glance back into the classroom shows the rest of the students sitting at their desks with their heads low. They’re Villagers too. Most of you are. That’s why there isn’t anything special enough about any of you. You look back at the boy. “…are you going to ask me something else?”

“What?”

“If you don’t need to ask me my Destiny,” you say slowly, “do you need to ask me something else?”

“I don’t need to ask anything from a Villager!” the boy cries. He jabs a finger at his own bicep where his mark lies under cloth. “I’m a Lord!”

“Okay,” you say. The other kids behind him are frowning at you. Some of them are Villagers too, but different from you. They’re the children of merchants which is a different sort of destiny altogether. “I need to run some errands for my mother. Will you let me pass?”

That seems to satisfy the boy. He draws himself up to his full height, perhaps a half an inch more than you, and straightens his shiny vest. “Yes, I will allow you to pass.”

You aren’t stupid. You understand what he’s saying by emphasizing the word allow. You study him and think he looks an awful lot like the new rooster you just got, the one the hens aren’t very fond of yet. “…thanks.”

You hurry past them and towards the market. You need to pick up some cloth your mother needs for curtains and some nails your father commissioned from the blacksmith. If you complete both tasks, you might have enough time to go by the general store and look at the new books Mr. Arthur said were coming in before you need to hurry home.

You don’t think of the Lord the rest of the day. But you don’t forget.

No, you don’t forget.

----------------------------.

You are born as a Villager. When you turned 15, your parents touch the mark on your upper arm with relief and, maybe, a bit of disappointment.

“Better to be a villager,” your father says. He looks out over the field you just helped him sow, leaning on his hoe. “My grandpa was a Guard. A good life, but a dangerous one.” He nods to himself and then turns to clap you on the shoulder. “Yes, being a villager is a good thing, Dolly. Your mother and I will show you the ropes.”

And they do. They teach you how to fix the thatched roof before winter, how to mind the fields, how to keep the well water clean and pure. They send you to school with the other teens because it’s important you know how to barter when the merchants pass through town. They mind your stitchwork and watch over you as you raise your first chickens from eggs.

“Our Dolly,” your mother says with warmth in her voice. She presses a kiss to the top of  your head when she passes the table. The early morning sun catches on her high cheekbones, the laugh lines deepening around her eyes. “Always up so early! Don’t study too hard.”

Your mother learned to read, but never took to it like you have. Your eyes dart down to the book lying open on the table, quick and guilty. Caretaking and Carekeeping. “I’ll be out in the fields in a bit. The radishes are ready.”

Your mother hums and goes to set the kettle above the fire.

-----------------.

The boy in your class is named Felton. He is the son of the Baronet who oversees the three towns this side of the mountain range. He is two months older than you, born in spring rather than winter, and he favors the pastel eggs from your chickens (though he doesn’t know that they’re yours) over the normal white ones in the market. He is a smart boy (though he insists on being called a man) and the teacher always calls on him to answer difficult problems when the rest of the class is stumped.

(The truth is that she calls on him because she refuses to call on a Villager. There are three children in the class that she is actively teaching. A Lord, a Knight, and a Teacher, like her.)

Felton does not know your name.

The spring blooms into summer and then summer simmers into fall. Felton does not hesitate to give you orders during those few hours you attend school. Things like pick up my pencil or stand for the rest of class. Easy and simple orders that cost nothing for you to follow.

You lean against the back wall of the classroom and watch him laugh with the Knight at the front. The other Villagers don’t attempt to talk to you beyond simple pleasantries when he’s around. But, when he leaves, it is a different story.

“You should tell your dad,” Benny says. He’s inherited the flaming red hair of his blacksmith mother and the matching temper from his father, Mr. Arthur at the general store. He glares at the door Felton just left through. “It’s not right. I heard his dad owes your dad a favor from their days as adventurers. If your dad talked to Felton’s—”

You raise a hand and Benny falls silent. The other Villagers shift behind him as you look for the right words. You don’t know when you earned their interest, but it soothes one of Felton’s many hurts to have people listen to you for once. “This is just a schoolyard matter. I plan to wait it out.”

“Wait for what though?” Benny asks. He runs a hand through his hair, the motion jerky. “We have a year and a third left with him. Are you waiting to go back to your family’s land where you can trust it too far for him to travel?” His eyes harden. “Not all of us have the same luxury.”

Then do something, you want to say. But you know they can’t. Most of their families are dependent on the Baronet’s good grace to keep running their stores and businesses. Your family is the only one living on gifted land – gifted by the Baronet to your father for those adventuring days.

“I’ll do something before we graduate,” you say. “But I need to wait a little longer.”

You stop leaning off the wall and turn to head for the door. Benny catches your arm, his hand nearly as strong as his blacksmith mother’s.

“Waiting for what?” he asks again.

“To see if our Lord will grow up,” you say. You shake off his hand and do your best not to slam the door on the way out.

Judging by the way you startle the doves on top of the school building, you fail.

--------------------.

There aren’t enough Knights and Guards and Fighters. That’s what your dad told you when he gifts you your first wooden sword on your fifth birthday.

“Those with the Destiny to protect are strong,” your dad tells you, “but they tend to be slow to arrive. That’s why our town sponsors adventurers. If you can wield a plow, you’re strong enough to wield a sword that will keep us safe until the fighters come.”

But you’re five and starstruck and don’t understand what he’s saying. Your dad an adventurer! Your mother the Adventurer’s Guild employee sending him out on missions! “I want to learn!”

“You have to learn,” your dad corrects. He adjusts your grip on the hilt. “With any luck, Darren—I mean, the Baronet finds a Hero before you’re old enough to fight.”

“I’m old enough,” you say and promptly bash your sword against a fence post so hard that you lose your footing. You fall backwards with a cry, expecting to fall into the flowerbed behind you.

Your dad steadies you with one hand against your back. “No, you aren’t. But, one day, you’ll grow up. That’s when you’ll be ready to protect what must be protected.”

The front door opens, revealing your mother standing there with a frown on her face. “A sword? Really?”

“It’s wood!”

You stare down at the sword in your hands. You’ll be ready to protect what must be protected. You swing at the fencepost again and, this time, your father is too distracted defending himself to catch you.

----------------------.

There’s no school in winter even though it looks to be a mild one this year. It’s so mild that the road from your family’s land into town is only under an inch or two of snow at any one time.

That’s why it’s so easy to see exactly where this year’s lot of demon beasts walk.

Your father kneels at the edge of the woods. His sword is strapped to his back, but he’s got his bow in hand. His eyes flick over the wolf print you found on your morning patrol and his lips thin.

“That,” he says, “is going to be a problem.”

You adjust your grip on your sword. It’s your first real weapon, one with an edge sharpened by your mother. You’ve handled real blades before, but this is your first time scouting the area with yours. “It looks like it’s heading towards town.”

Your father swears and sits back on his heels. “The river is already frozen.” His face is pale and tight. “Your mother is still ill. She can’t be left alone for too long…”

“You stay with her,” you say. You’re seventeen now. You’re a year away from being “grown” but you are also pragmatic. “Keep the fire burning for her. I’ll find the beast.”

“Absolutely not,” your father says. He jerks to his feet and scowls down at you. “You are not to be hunting alone, you know this.”

“And I won’t be,” you snap back. “The town’s Guard will fight, but someone needs to help him track it. I won’t engage the thing on my own. I’m not suicidal.”

Still your father hesitates. “The size of it isn’t normal…”

You can tell. The footprint left behind by the beast leads you to believe the wolf is taller than your father. The truth is that you’re terrified. But it scares you more to think of your mother, coughing and alone, while both you and your dad are away.

“I’ll be back in two days,” you promise. It is a stupid promise. You both know that hunting demonic beasts can’t be rushed. “Maybe three. If I’m not back in three days, you’ll come after me.”

Your father finally nods. “Three days.” He swears again and closes his eyes. “Be safe.”

“I will.” You take the small pack of jerky and water from him, his portion of the rations for the day. Combined with your own rations, it’ll be enough to last you two days in town. “Take care of Mom.”

He checks your bow and sword one last time and then presses a kiss to your forehead. “Go straight to the Guard. Or the Knight if he’s back in town. Make sure they’re with you when you start hunting for it. Understand?”

You nod and take off down the road.

-----------.

You are a Villager. That fact has never disappointed you, not like it disappointed your parents. When Felton sneered the word and looked down on you for it, you didn’t feel shame.

You felt pity.

You have been raised with an awareness of being part of a community. The eggs from your chickens go into the bellies of the hungry in town. Your labor in the orchard and the fields puts food in the markets. Your patrols with your father brings the town piece of mind when the sole Guard takes his day off.

Your clothes are made by your neighbors. The sword on your hip was forged by Benny’s mother and your arrows were whittled by a Villager just like you. When your mother fell ill, the owner of the apothecary did not need to be ordered to come tend her. She came of her own free will. The people in your town are your people, just as you are theirs.

How lonely must it be to be a Lord? How isolating to look around and see only those who you must govern and protect? How difficult must it be to remain impartial when surrounded by people who depend on you?

You are proud to be a Villager because you know and love so many that bear the same Destiny. That pride is why you aren’t willing to leave things to fate. You are grateful that there are people born to protect and to govern. But there aren’t enough of them.

Sometimes, it takes a Villager.

-----------------------------------------.

(The truth is that there is resentment too. Resentment when Felton orders you to pick up garbage, to allow him to leave ahead of you, to give him the best seat in class. There is so much you love and it is not your Destiny to protect it—it’s his. But he won’t. He can’t.

Not until he grows up.)

----------------------------.

The town is only an hour’s walk from your house but, with the snow, it’s a hard hour. You feel as if your head is on a swivel the entire way, eyes scanning the woods and fresh snow for tracks. You promised your father that you would get the Guard before you went hunting, but there is an unpleasant chill working its way down your spine.

There is something wrong. There aren’t any birds in the treetops, no winter hares bounding through the frozen foliage, no sound of the deer that come down from the mountains. The road to town is still and silent.

You keep your bow drawn even as you finally arrive at the bridge leading over the river that skirts the edge of town.

Like your father said, the water is already frozen. Snow dusts across the uneven ice, small mounds casting eerie shadows in the last light of day. The sun is nearly behind the mountains. Many of the townsfolk are behind locked doors, sitting down for dinner.

They’re inside, you remind yourself as you spot tracks leading to the river’s edge. Your heart is in your throat as you kneel next to them. Each pawprint is easily twice the size of your hand. Please, be inside.

The tracks don’t go across the river. They wind away and back into the forest. That doesn’t make sense. Demon beasts are intelligent and one doesn’t get to this size without being smarter than most. You swallow hard. It knows the river is frozen. It knows it can cross. You imagine you can feel the beast’s eyes on your back, watching. Waiting.

Waiting for night fall when it’s strongest.

You dart towards the bridge, sprinting across. It’s spelled with anti-demonic wards, but the river isn’t. If the demon beast realized that the river is frozen…

Unlike what you hoped, the townsfolk aren’t inside. The winter is mild so you find small groups of them on your sprint towards the guard’s station.

“Get inside,” you snarl at a group of children. They’re in the midst of building snowmen in front of the empty school. Their minder, a Villager from your class, goes pale at the sight of you. Is it your bow? Or your sword? “Tell everyone. Get inside and lock the doors.”

You see them turn but then you’re off again, running through town and shouting the same message to all you see. Get inside, lock the doors, don’t come out until morning—

“Dolly!”

Benny is standing in front of his mother’s forge, a hammer in his hand. He’s shirtless in winter so you can see that Benny isn’t a Villager like you thought. He’s a Blacksmith. He gapes at your appearance. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Demons,” you gasp. “I need to get to the Guard but everyone is outside—”

Benny is already running in the opposite direction. “I’ll warn them! Go!”

Benny’s help gives you new strength. You skid to a halt in front of the guard station a minute later. The windows are dark, but you didn’t expect him to be here.

He will be soon.

You burst through the door as the first of the town’s mage lights flicker on. Night fall. You race up the stairs and, without hesitation, yank the rope to the town’s warning bell.

BONG. BONG. BONG.

The Guard arrives barely thirty seconds after the first ring. His house is next door. He’s older, like your father, with salt and pepper hair. He’s dressed for bed and has a thunderous expression on his face. The Knight from your class, James, is trailing after his father.

“Who is ringing the warning bell—” He finally registers you standing in the middle of the station, your bow still drawn. His rage shifts into worry. “Dolly. This isn’t a prank is it?”

“No.” You wish it was. “There are tracks leading to the river’s edge. A demon beast. A big one.”

“God help us.” The Guard clenches his hand. Unclenches them. “I told the Baronet I needed more guards. Even just a fighter.”

You don’t understand. “But you’re the—” You voice fails you as you follow his gaze down.

The Guard’s right leg is wrapped in bandages.

“It was my fault,” James says. He’s quicker than he is in class, understanding the horror on your and his father’s faces. “We were sparring and I didn’t know my strength--!”

“It was no one’s fault,” the Guard says. He limps over to the chest in the corner and unlocks it. “It is what it is.” He pulls out his sword.

“No!” James grabs his father’s wrist before he can fasten the sword belt around his waist. “If it’s a demon beast, you can’t go out there like that.”

“I have to.” His father shakes his son off gently. “I’m the Guard.” He looks at you and a muscle in his jaw jumps. “I’ll need your help finding it, Dolly. Where’s your pa?”

Your mouth is dry. You can’t look away from the naked terror on James’ face. “H-he’s not here. He’s at home with my mom.”

The Guard’s eyes flutter shut. “Which means it’s just—” He swears. “I told the Baronet I needed a replacement!” His hands are shaking as he fastens his sword belt around his waist. He takes a deep breath. “James, go home. Dolly, point me in the right direction. I’ll—”

“You’ll die!” James jumps in front of his dad. “Give me a sword, I’ll fight it—”

“You’ve never been in combat before,” the Guard snaps.

“I’ve beaten you in spars—”

“Because I let you—”

“I’ll have a better chance of surviving than you.”

“I have a duty—”

“I’m a Knight! If anything I have greater duty than you—"

“Calm down.” You aren’t sure how your voice is so steady and firm. But it’s enough that the Guard and his son both snap to look at you. “Here’s what we’re going to do. There’s no guarantee that the demon beast will come into town tonight.”

The Guard’s face twists. “We can’t take that chance—”

“No,” you say. “We can’t.” You look him over. Judging from the bandages, it’s a torn muscle rather than a wound. That’s good. “You aren’t in any condition to hunt so you will stand watch in town. If the demon beast comes, you’ll stop it. I’ll see if I can find it in the forest.”

The Guard is already shaking his head. “No, it’s too dangerous. Your father will have my hide if I let you go alone.”

“You can’t follow me,” you say, jerking your chin at his leg. “One of us needs eyes on it before it comes. If we’re lucky, I’ll spot it and see enough to judge what type it is. It won’t come to town and we can send for my father and the Baronet in the morning.”

The Guard meets your eyes.  “If we’re unlucky, it spots you and a Villager under my charge gets ripped to pieces before the beast gets into town.”

“I’ll go with her,” James says. “I’m a Knight, I’m strong—”

“You’ve never fought a beast,” you say before his father can voice the protest on his face. The image of getting torn to pieces is not a pleasant one, but you’re pragmatic. There isn’t another option. “Nor have you tracked one. I stand a better chance alone.” You glance back at the door. It’s well and truly dark now, the only light coming from the mage-lamps lining the roads. “We need to go.”

“Don’t be a Hero, Dolly,” the Guard says. “Don’t make me tell your parents why you died under my watch.”

Obviously you can’t be a Hero. You’re a Villager. You nod and run out the door, back towards the forest.

----------------------------.

This is why you know you aren’t a Hero. A Hero would remember that night. They would be able to recount their search for the demonic beast with perfect clarity.  But you are a Villager and you are afraid.

So this is what you remember.

You remember the stillness of the town. The way the shadows stretched from the corners of buildings like gaping maws. You remember your heart thundering in your chest so loudly that you were afraid the demon beast would be drawn to the sound.

You remember thinking of the demon beasts you’d fought before. Horned rabbits and screaming bats that lunged out of the small burrows just north of the fields. A few acidic slimes that tried to roll their way through your chicken coop and had to be washed away with purified water.

It did not prepare you for what you found in the forest.

You didn’t want to find the tracks, but you did. You didn’t want to follow them downriver where the shallows meant thicker ice, but you did.

You didn’t want to find the demon beast, but you did.

You were upwind and it smelled you. Easily seven foot in height, hundred of pounds with unnaturally large fangs, it turned to see you standing there.

You know you can remember it in detail. You know you can describe the way saliva dripped from its jaws, the way you saw madness in the red of its eyes, the sound of the snow crackling under its giant paws. You can remember, but you won’t.

(It growled and it was the sound of the earth crumbling under your feet. Your bones rattled when it bellowed. You felt your mind empty as it shifted its attention from the town to you, its great head lowering in preparation to charge.

You drew your bow. You lined up your shot. You thought, this is going to kill me.

And you released.)

---------------------.

The sound of crunching snow rouses you from unconsciousness. Your entire body aches. There’s a bleary moment where you can’t make sense of anything. Breathe. You flex your hands. You can feel fur underneath your aching back and the warmth of the sun against your face. There’s a muffled sob and the murmur of voices from a few dozen feet away.

You force your eyes open and blink up at the early morning sky. “Ouch.”

A shocked silence. Then, “Dolly?!”

Your vision fills with Benny’s face. It’s tear-streaked and there’s soot high on his cheek. He falls to his knees at your side. “She’s alive!”

You certainly don’t feel alive. You want to keep laying down, but Benny scoops a hand under your shoulders and helps you sit up. Your arms ache like the day you first plowed the field by yourself and there’s a tightness in your chest that speaks of hurt ribs. “Ouch,” you say again and look to where you can still hear muffled sobbing.

What seems like half the town is standing just by the river, careful not to step in the red puddles that have stained the snow by the bank. In front of them, the Guard is slumped against James, one hand over his eyes. James is staring at you like he’s seen a ghost. His eyes flick from your face to something just behind you.

You twist with Benny’s help and feel all the breath get punched out of your lungs. You weren’t lying on the ground. You were lying on the demon beast.

It’s huge.

You thought it big last night, but it seems bigger in the day. The fur is pure white except for where blood has stained it red. Its paws are the size of your head and the teeth gleaming in the early morning sun are as long as your forearm. The arrow sticking out of its eye looks like a toothpick in comparison and your sword, lodge just under its jaw, looks like a twig.

“You killed it,” Benny says. “I tried to come help, but there were horned rabbits in town—”

You hold up a hand and he falls silent. Slowly, painfully, you climb to your feet. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No,” the Guard says. He lowers his hand and you can see his eyes filled with tears. “No, everyone’s alright, Dolly.”

You smile and even that hurts. You say, “I need to get home. My parents are waiting.”

“We’ll take care of the beast,” Benny’s mom says. She is the only one using the same, normal tone as you. She props her hands on her hips, eyeing the demon beast with calculation. “Mellie, how long do you think it’ll take?”

The Villager you buy meat from steps forward. She holds her hand out in front of her and squints one eye, measuring the carcass. “’Bout a day. You looking to keep all the meat, Dolly?”

“No,” you say. There’s something bubbling in your chest that feels a lot like laughter. You let Benny help you find your footing and look down to hide it. “No, I don’t think my family could eat it all.”

The Guard snorts and looks surprised at the sound.

Mellie nods like she expected that. “I’ll package up the hide, bones, and demon crystal for you. I’ll buy most of the meat, if you’ll let me.”

“No. Share the meat,” you say. You can’t even begin to calculate how much this thing’s hide would be worth. That’s more than enough for you. “We all deserve some extra provisions after last night.”

James opens his mouth as if to protest but doesn’t get a chance. The other Villagers all seem to lose their tension. There’s laughing and joking about the silver lining of extra provisions in a mild winter like this.

James’ brow furrows.

“Benny, help me drag it to Mellie’s shop,” the blacksmith says. She rolls up her sleeves. “I’ll send him to yours with the extra bits later this week, Dolly.”

“It’s okay, I can come pick it up—”

Benny’s mom waves you off. “Consider it a small repayment for the meat. I have a feeling your dad’s not going to be letting you out of the house until school when he hears about this.”

Oh geez.

---------------.

Of course, going home takes longer than you’d like. The town fusses over you like you knew they would, feeding you and bandaging you until the sun is well in the sky.

“Just pulled muscles,” you keep telling the doctor. He’s the worst of the lot because he’s positive keel over if you try to walk home. “I feel fine.”

“You’ve got stitches,” the doctor says with narrowed eyes. Finally, he relents. “If you can’t be persuaded to stay another night—”

“My dad’s going to come looking for me if I’m not back by tomorrow,” you say. You stand and carefully hide the wince when your new stitches pull. The wolf-beast got a swipe in along your back. “Better to let him know sooner rather than later.”

“My boy will take her home,” the Guard says from the doorway. He’s not crying any more, but there’s something odd in the way he can’t seem to meet your eyes. “Come on, Dolly.”

You thank the doctor and follow him out into the street.

There’s evidence of battle here too. Horned rabbits are known for following the bigger beasts and this time wasn’t an exception. House doors are pitted and scarred from their attempts to get inside. You see traces of Benny’s battle with them in the cracked cobblestones and the smears of blood from where the bodies used to be. Did he hit them with his hammer?

“Thank you,” the Guard says. He’s still leading you towards the edge of town, his back stiff. “For what you did.”

It’s odd to be thanked by a man your dad’s age and especially weird to be thanked by James’ dad. “I didn’t do anything—”

“You did,” the Guard says. “Really I shouldn’t be saying thank you. I should be begging for your forgiveness.”

“What?”

He nods to the body of a horned rabbit. “Killing those things? That’s my job. I would have failed without you last night. I knew the town wasn’t defended, I knew that—”

“There’s one of you,” you interrupt. You hate interrupting, but the pain in the Guard’s voice is too much to bear. You pause. Do you even know his name? “Mister…”

“Call me John,” the Guard says.

Your face burns. Here you are judging Felton for never knowing your name and you’re guilty of the same thing. “Mr. John, nobody blames you. I don’t blame you. I was gonna thank you for coming to get me this morning. I don’t know if I woulda woken up in time to get back home.”

Mr. John laughs. You don’t think he feels comforted by your words, but he laughs. “Glad I could do something then.” His son is waiting just at the bridge, a pack on his shoulders. “James has got water and jerky if you need a snack on the way.”

“It’s only an hour,” you say. You take stock of your body. “Maybe two. He doesn’t have to come with me—”

“It’ll make me feel better,” Mr. John says. He pats your shoulder. “If you ever want sword lessons, come see me.”

That does interest you. You don’t remember much of your fight, but you do remember a lot of flailing. You want to be more prepared next time. “I will, thank you.”

You watch him limp back into town before turning your attention to James. “Thanks for walking me back.”

James grunts and leads the way across the bridge. “Dad’s scared you’ll pass out on the road.”

“Oh.” You look back over your shoulder, warmth unfurling in your chest. Like the other villagers, he’s looking out for you. “That’s nice of him.”

The walk back to your house isn’t comfortable. You don’t know James outside of school and he’s always with Felton when you do see him. He’s broader than the average kid, probably because of his Destiny, but still has the rounded cheeks of childhood. He’s careful to keep pace with you without looking like he’s trying to.

When you’re about ten minutes away from your house, just at the start of the orchard, James speaks.

“You’re really a Hero, right?”

You startle. You were thinking about how to tell your father what you did in the least scary way possible. “Um, no?”

James is looking at you. Has he been staring at you this entire time? He frowns. “You have to be after the fight you had last night.”

You roll up your sleeve to show him. “I’m a Villager.”

“But that’s impossible.” He stops walking, rounding on you with true venom in his voice. “Only Heroes and Knights can take down demon beasts that size.”

“I got lucky,” you say because that’s the truth. You feel an emotion unwinding in your chest. “Look, I need to get home—”

“Villagers get protected,” James says. He steps toward you and doesn’t notice when you reach for your sword. “That’s the way it is. You said I couldn’t come with you because I didn’t have combat experience, but did you? You should have let me—”

“I’ve been fighting demon beasts for years,” you say. That unwinding emotion is anger. A whole lot of it has built up over the school year as the ones who were meant to protect you bullied you instead. “Because there aren’t enough people with the Destiny to protect.”

“I was right there—”

“You have never been interested in protecting.” Your mouth twists. “You and our little Lord.”

James’ jaw shuts with an audible click. At least he isn’t denying his part in your treatment at school. “I—I—”

“I am a Villager,” you say. You step into his space, viciously pleased when he steps back. “This is my village. When there aren’t enough protectors, it’s my job to step up.”

“I’m a Knight,” James says, but with less strength.

“Okay,” you say. “No one is saying you aren’t.”

“I could have done it,” he says. Whining. Like a child.

And that’s the problem with these people, isn’t it? They think they’re owed positions in the village because of the mark on their arms. They don’t send medicine to your mother or offer to butcher animals for you or pat you on the shoulder when you help.

They, you think scathingly, are not Villagers.

“But you didn’t.” You step around him. You keep speaking as you walk away, so angry that you feel like you might draw your sword if you stay in this conversation. “See you at school.”

James doesn’t respond nor does he follow you.

You go home.

--------------------.

Hey all! Thanks for reading :) I really enjoyed writing another story in this universe. If you’d like to support me and see stories like this a week in advance, please consider supporting me on Patreon, linked below. A new flash fiction is already up, plus a bonus scene to Dolly’s story! Thanks for reading :)

Patreon (X)

[thekrows-nest]

General Info + F.A.Q

General Info

This is is a blog for all things about Krow.

This is an 18+ blog so minors DO NOT INTERACT Any blogs that do not have their age listed in their bio or haven’t DMed me their age proving they're 18+ WILL be blocked! I'm serious, please PLEASE have your age in your bio OR DM me it.

I’ll be posting art, musings and the like. Share fan creations from others, answer asks and questions. May or may not do some sort of project with this nasty gremlin, in which case I’ll use this space to document the journey.

Be sure to check down below and read the FAQ too! Your question could be answered there already!

If you enjoy my work here on the blog, and wanna support me, you can donate at my Ko-Fi! Please DON’T feel pressured to do so. It’s completely optional!

TO NOTE: Update (as of 1/26/2023) So I’ve had Krow for a few months now. Not nearly as long as my other OC’s but decent length of time for me to have figured out some things. However, even so, this blog is mainly for fun, just a means of me writing and drawing for this goofy boy, so some answers may just be silly. Don’t take EVERYTHING I say as the end all be all canon of Krow. I may change my mind on things (and I have before, a number of times).

Below is my old To Note but I’ll keep it up anyway ndfgbl.szf

Krow is a very new character for me, which is to say; until/unless I say otherwise, do NOT take everything said here for absolute canon, lore and fact. You’re basically seeing and experiencing the messy process that is... creating a character, and in many ways, helping me develop him further. Things can and will change with him. Design, lore, bits of personality and so on. Just so you’re aware. (: 

(Anon asks are OFF because I am simply not comfortable with having them on. Apologies.)

Krow’s Ref(s): Main Ref Krow’s Eyes and Teeth Krow’s Back Tattoo Krow Ship Chart (Blank) Mer!Krow Untraumatized Krow

Gabby Ref(s): Doodle

Eliyah Ref(s): Doodle

Luke Ref(s): Doodle

Mary Ref(s): Doodle

Naila Ref(s): Doodle

Tag List (will probably update as more tags become relevant):

#about krow #krow art #krow asked and answered #krow in character #the krow’s nest #naughty krow #krow fluff #krow angst #krow stories #dove aviary #winndy talks #krow fanart #krow’s murder flock #silly krow #bird call #about gabby #gabby asked and answered #LT asked and answered #LT in character #the krow’s nest verse #about eliyah #eliyah asked and answered #eliyah in character #eliyah art #luke asked and answered #about luke #luke in character #luke art #about mary #mary art #mary asked and answered #mary in character #about naila #naila asked and answered #naila in character #naila art

F.A.Q.

(Probably put more here later)

Does Krow have a VN? When is he getting one? I’ve gotten a number of asks and questions about this from numerous people since I first started this blog and the answer is still the same: I don’t know.  I created Krow mainly as just a way to entertain myself and because games like 14DWY and RH inspired me to. Krow happened to strike a chord with the community, I was asked by a few friends to make a blog so they could send in goofy asks. Now Krow has a decent following (which I am grateful for!) and so I’ve been getting asked this more and more. If I were to seriously consider a VN though, I would have to do a LOT of work. When I made Krow, I created him “in a vacuum” as I like to put it, by which I mean... he doesn’t HAVE a story. There aren’t other defined characters, a setting or such besides him and Dove. So if I were to make a VN, I would need to think of other characters, the setting and so on. While I am not settled on the idea of a VN yet, I HAVE been muddling on expanding the “Krow Verse” as it were. I hope to introduce some other characters to you all soon!

How old is Krow? So *I* personally headcanon Krow at 25, HOWEVER, generally speaking, he can be whatever you headcanon him at as long as he’s 18+. My other headcanon is that he is always a year older than you/Dove. How tall is Krow? Similar to his age, you can headcanon him at various heights. However, his MAX height (and what I headcanon him as) is 5′1″, but he is always at least one inch shorter than you.  Krow is absolutely fine with Dove being much taller than him. 

What ethnicity is Krow? Krow is Indian + Bengali, though he was born in America! And this will ALWAYS be canon.

What’s Krow’s job? He works as a crime scene/forensics cleaner! He works for a very small (as in about five people including him) licensed company to go around and clean up the scenes of murders, not so wellness checks and the like.  He also does some black market organ selling as a side hustle, which come from his own murders. He is also sometimes commissioned to do art! (In particular his other yandere friends go to him for art pieces.)

So Krow’s an artist, what kind of art does he do? The answer is... a bit of everything lmao. Mostly draws and paints, since that’s the easiest and most portable. But he also sculpts (as in using clay but he also buys blocks of marble or such to literally carve into when he can afford it), wood carving and widdling, has done metal working, sometimes writes poetry, customizes and even builds dolls. Pretty much any (traditional) visual art medium there is, Krow has done/does. 

Does Krow have a speech impediment? He does! He’s had his stutter for many years, but has never gotten any kind of correctional therapy for... spoilery reasons.

How did Dove meet Krow? There isn’t really a “canon” way (as of now) that Dove meets Krow, just that it was purely coincidental. So you can headcanon pretty much almost anything of how Dove and Krow meet. Examples I’ve listed before have been at the park, out just walking in public, the grocery store, maybe even your work. To Dove, it may have just been some run of the mill encounter. For Krow however, it was life changing.

FOR ALL THAT IS HOLY WHERE IS THE NSFW ABC’S??!!! I finally got you bae’s. It is right here

Okay what about his SFW ABC's? They are right here!

[epistaxia]

♡ Eddie Munson random headcanons ♡

Random headcanons - in some of them the reader is mentioned and it can be read as gender neutral, romantic or platonic. (No use of Y/N)

Contents and warnings: nothing really :) maybe a little bity if fluff. (664 words)

A/N: i’ve been collecting these in my journal in the past few days, beacuse yes, sometimes i write by hand about a man in my journal like an infatuated 19th century woman! Some are quite long, more like short drabbles. (English is not my first language so be kind :))

Eddie loves when his friends and partner give him drawings or little notes. He acts cool when he gets them, because they're often for the d&d campaign or they’re simple christmas cards, but then reads them when he’s alone in his room, smiling to himself. He keeps them in a shoebox and hangs up on his walls the drawings he likes most. (OMG if he ever met Will! !! Aaaahhh)

THRIFT KING. He spends the money he makes by dealing on music gear, so he has a limited budget for stuff like clothes. He's been doing it for a while now so he has a precise itinerary of thrift stores around Hawkins, fidelity cards, and all. He even once did that thing of hiding a jacket he wanted between other clothes and came back the next day with enough money to buy it. When he comes back, he puts on a little fashion show for you and explains in detail how he’s going to modify the clothes to match his style. (We’ve all seen those pictures of Joseph Quinn trying the different versions of the costume. That's the vibe. Chaos basically. )

Every Christmas and birthday he gets his uncle a new hat and has been since he was in elementary school. It turned into a tradition and now uncle Wayne proudly displays his collection in the trailer living room (you can actually see them in the show in the background and in that backstage tour of the van)

When he’s having a tough day, he goes to skull rock with his walkman and/or a book. He likes the walk from and to his house the most, it’s an opportunity to clear his mind and spend some time alone. He's been doing it for a few years and more than once he had to go back home because the spot was already taken by a couple. He didn’t know him personally yet, but at least twice the rock was occupied by Steve and the girl he was going out with at that time.

He read in a magazine that some metal band members use women’s perfume as an act of rebellion and provocation. So, he bought one and wears it, hoping that if anyone smells it they think it rubbed off a girl he was with, instead of making fun of him.

Asks you to help him collect bottle caps, can tabs and safety pins to make diy pins. He always makes an extra few to give you as a thank you.

Kind of an arsonist, out of curiosity though. He just has to set fire to different small objects and materials. He knows they will just burn but what if this time something else happens, doesn’t even think about how the something else might be something dangerous, like a small explosion or toxic fumes.

He has an ever-changing, but very detailed list of tattoos and piercings to get in the future. Yes, it includes at least one nipple piercing and a tramp stamp. He says it's not a tramp stamp, but the position and design say otherwise.

His weirdly specific childhood interest was Norse mythology. He still remembers some very specific events and details and adapts them to put in the D&D campaigns. Just imagine the joy of little Eddie learning there was a god of mischief!? It took him a while to spell mischief correctly but he got there.

When you spend the night at his and have breakfast together, he insists on doing stupid stuff, and you have to go along even if you’re still waking up. You have to throw him cheerios, because it’s fundamental to know how many he can catch with his mouth at 9 in the morning on a Friday. And you have to pour him maple syrup on the pancakes, and also directly in his mouth still full of cereals, because he doesn’t want to get his fingers sticky.

Eddie hates the feeling of stepping on anything like sand, grass or rocks barefoot, so when you go to Lovers' lake, he jumps on strangers' towels on his way to and from the water.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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[sombreboy]

Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I doing well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just to be his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would've made sure of it."

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

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.