#my chest is small and is almost impossible to notice when im t

[ourtintedworld]

realizing that it isn't top surgery that's my priority, but a hysterectomy

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER'S DAUGHTER PT 2 | MV1

an: GUYS IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS AU! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this au im so ready, it'll be tagged as #preacheraumax on my page if you want to find all the posts. i'm already writing pt 3, feel free to talk to me abt this au!!

wc: 6.3k

part one

The late-afternoon sun spilled golden light over the trailer park, painting the rusted edges of Max’s trailer with a soft glow. From the open window of his trailer, the smell of dinner drifted out—pasta, he thought, though he wasn’t sure. She’d insisted on cooking again, and he hadn’t had it in him to argue. He leaned against his car outside for a minute, absently wiping his hands with an oil-stained rag, trying—and failing—to ignore the way his T-shirt hung loose on her frame when she flitted through the tiny kitchen through the small window.

A week of this. A week of her brushing past him, all sweet smiles and quiet thank-yous, like she didn’t notice the way his pulse spiked every time she tucked her hair behind her ear or hummed while folding his clothes. He’d been respectful, giving her space, knowing she needed time to heal, but damn if she didn’t make it difficult.

The screen door creaked open, and there she was, standing on the step with a plate in her hands and a soft grin. “Dinner’s ready.”

He bit back a groan, tossed the rag onto the bike seat, and followed her inside.

They ate quietly, the scrape of forks on mismatched plates filling the small space. She’d been unusually quiet all day, and when she finally set her fork down, her eyes were a little too bright, her voice a little too soft.

“I talked to my aunt,” she said.

Max froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. He set it down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah?”

“She’s expecting me next week. She’s got a room for me, and she says I can stay as long as I need to.”

He nodded, keeping his face neutral, even though something sharp twisted in his chest. “That’s good. Safe place for you. Close to college.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the table. “You’ll take me, won’t you?”

“Of course.” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to, and her eyes flicked up, searching his face.

The week passed too quickly. Every time he came home from work to see her curled up on his couch or folding laundry to some old song on the radio, he told himself not to get used to it. But it was impossible not to, and when the day came, he couldn’t shake the weight in his chest as they loaded the last of her bags into the back of his truck.

The drive to her aunt’s house was quiet. She played with the hem of her dress, and he kept his hands tight on the wheel, like if he gripped hard enough, he could keep her there.

When they pulled up to the modest house on the edge of town, she didn’t move right away. He cut the engine, the silence stretching thin between them.

“I’ll come back on weekends,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Promise?”

Her head turned, and for the first time all day, she smiled—a small, fragile thing that made his chest ache. “Promise.”

He stepped out, helping her with her bags, and when they reached the porch, he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her waist. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into him, her head resting against his chest.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, you know,” he murmured into her hair.

She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to his cheek, her lips warm against his stubble. His heart stopped, then kicked back up at double speed.

“Don’t forget me, Max,” she said softly.

“Not a chance.”

The door opened behind her, and a woman—her aunt, he assumed—stepped out, eyeing him curiously.

“And who’s this?”

She glanced back at Max, her eyes lingering on him like she didn’t want to let go. Then she smiled, a little sadly.

“Just a good friend.”

The words stung, but he smiled anyway, stepping back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Take care of her,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Her aunt nodded, ushering her inside. Max stayed on the porch for a moment, watching the door close behind her, the ache in his chest settling into something heavier.

When the weekend came along, Max was in the middle of patching up an old carburetor on a kitchen counter when he heard the knock at the door. He wiped his hands on his jeans and squinted at the clock on the wall. It was late—closer to eight than six—but the knock came again, firm and impatient.

Grumbling under his breath, he crossed the room, swung the door open, and froze.

She was standing there on his porch, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, her hair pulled back in that effortless way that always drove him crazy. She smiled up at him, all innocent charm and a hint of mischief, like she hadn’t just made his heart stop.

“Hey,” she said, stepping past him and into the trailer without waiting for an invitation.

“Hey?” he echoed, spinning to follow her. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to call.”

She dropped the bag onto his couch, her smile not faltering in the slightest. “It’s the weekend, isn’t it? I promised I’d come back.”

“Yeah, but—” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to sound stern. “You’re not supposed to just show up. I could’ve come and picked you up, you know.”

She waved him off, heading toward the kitchen. “I’m not helpless, Max. I caught a bus. Besides, I liked the idea of surprising you.”

Max sighed, leaning against the counter as she poked around his cabinets, clearly unimpressed. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Hmm.” She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For not fainting when I walked in here.” She gestured to the cluttered counters and the pile of laundry shoved into the corner. “Honestly, the state of this place would make half the church faint.”

Max smirked, crossing his arms. “Well, my cleaning fairy hasn’t been around this week.”

She turned back to him, arching an eyebrow. “Your cleaning fairy?”

“Yeah, little thing. Shows up unannounced, makes herself at home, organises my life for free.” He shrugged, his voice teasing. “She’s gotten kinda bossy, though.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the grin spreading across her face. “Well, your cleaning fairy is back.”

“Don’t.” His voice softened, and she looked up at him in surprise. “Don’t clean, okay? You don’t have to do all that. You’re not here to look after me.”

“I like it.”

Her words were simple, but they hit him harder than they should have. She liked being here, liked taking care of him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Before he could think of how to respond, she stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. Then, leaning up on her toes, she kissed his cheek, quick and light.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his throat tight. “Anytime.”

Her fingers lingered on his arm for a moment before she turned away, diving into the mess with a determination that made him smile despite himself.

He leaned against the wall, watching her, his heart feeling lighter for the first time in a week. She was impossible, infuriating, and everything he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“I was supposed to go out tonight,” he finally said.

She glanced back at him, her hands covered in soap. “Oh?”

“Yeah, Danny called earlier. Said he wanted to hit the bar. I told him I might swing by.” He paused, watching her reaction.

She didn’t seem fazed, just smiled. “You should go. It’s fine.”

He frowned. “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

She rinsed a plate, setting it on the drying rack with a satisfying clink. “Max, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“That’s not the point.”

Her gaze softened as she turned to face him, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I know you want to stay. But you shouldn’t put your whole life on hold just because I’m here.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she stepped closer, her expression gentle but firm. “Go out. Have fun. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he debated pushing back. The idea of leaving her here, even for a few hours, felt wrong. But the quiet certainty in her voice eased something in his chest.

“Okay,” he relented. “But only if you promise to text me if you need anything.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a playful smile on her lips. “Yes, daddy.”

He shot her a mock glare as he grabbed his jacket and keys. At the door, he turned back to her, his hand lingering on the frame. “Don’t clean anything, all right? Just relax.”

“Sure,” she said, a little too quickly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she waved him off with a laugh, and he finally stepped out into the night.

When Max got to the bar, it was loud and crowded, the kind of place Max usually thrived in, but tonight felt different. Danny was mid-sentence about something—or someone—when Max’s attention drifted again.

He found himself staring at his beer, her voice echoing in his head. I like it here.

“Max, you listening?” Danny nudged him with an elbow.

“Yeah, yeah,” Max muttered, though he wasn’t. His mind was back at the trailer, wondering if she’d actually taken a break or if he’d come home to find everything spotless.

“Man, you’ve been spaced out all night. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Max lied, draining the last of his beer. “I gotta head out.”

Danny raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”

When Max got back to the trailer, the place didn’t feel like his.

The counters were wiped clean, the laundry folded and stacked neatly, and even the perpetually sticky spot on the floor by the fridge was gone. He sighed, shaking his head as he locked the door behind him.

“Stubborn,” he muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips.

His gaze landed on the couch, and there she was, curled up under one of his old blankets, her chest rising and falling in soft, even breaths.

“Of course,” he whispered, his voice soft as he crouched beside her.

Carefully, he slid his arms under her, lifting her with ease. She stirred, her head resting against his shoulder as he carried her to the bed.

“Max?” she murmured sleepily.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice low.

“I wanted to wait up,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly.

“I know.” He laid her down gently, pulling the blanket over her.

He moved to the dresser, rummaging for a clean shirt to sleep in when her voice, still soft but more awake, stopped him.

“You usually just sleep in boxers.”

He turned, eyebrows raised. “Noticed that, huh?”

She smiled, her eyes half-lidded. “I don’t mind if you do.”

For a second, he didn’t move, her words hanging between them like an unspoken promise. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

Her smile widened, but she was already drifting back to sleep.

Max sighed, tugging his shirt off and tossing it onto the chair. He slid under the blanket beside her, careful not to disturb her. As her breathing evened out again, he let himself relax, the weight of the night fading as he listened to the quiet.

She was here. And for now, that was enough.

The warmth was the first thing Max noticed as he stirred awake. His trailer was always cold in the mornings, the thin walls doing little to keep the night chill at bay, but now there was a soft, comforting heat pressed against his side. He cracked one eye open and immediately froze.

She was curled into him, her head resting on his chest, one arm draped across his torso like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her breath was slow and steady, her face relaxed in sleep, and her fingers clutched lightly at the fabric of his shirt.

Max’s heart thudded hard against his ribs, a deep ache settling in his chest. She fit so perfectly against him, like she’d always belonged there. He lay still, not wanting to wake her, though he couldn’t stop his hand from coming to rest lightly on her back.

The quiet moment stretched, his mind racing with thoughts he wasn’t ready to face, until the smell hit him. Warm, buttery, sweet—pancakes? His brow furrowed as he sniffed the air. Was he imagining things?

He shifted slightly, and her eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at him, her expression soft and drowsy, and he swallowed hard.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice low. “You smell that?”

She smiled, untangling herself from him and sitting up with a yawn. “Yeah. Pancakes.”

He frowned, sitting up as well. “I didn’t even know I had stuff to make pancakes.”

She turned to him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You didn’t. I snuck out earlier and grabbed a few things.”

He blinked. “You went shopping? Without waking me?”

“You looked peaceful,” she said with a shrug, climbing out of bed, not bothering to put the skirt she must have left with earlier back on. 

He was sure that his cause of death was going to be her walking around his trailer in one of his shirts and her stupid cotton panties.

He followed her to the kitchen, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of her slipping out and coming back unnoticed. Sure enough, there was a stack of golden pancakes on the counter, a jar of syrup beside it, and two mismatched plates waiting to be served.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, though there was no heat in his words.

“Thank you,” she replied with a grin, flipping the last pancake onto the stack before turning to him.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, gesturing to the pancakes.

“It’s Sunday,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

“Yeah, and?”

Her smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something—nervousness, maybe—crossing her face. “It’s church day.”

The realisation hit him like a freight train. Of course. It was her first Sunday since she’d left home. A pang of guilt tugged at him as he imagined what this day must mean to her.

“Right,” he said softly. “Big day.”

She nodded, fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

“Do you want me to come with you?” The words were out before he could stop them.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. “I mean, I know I’m not exactly the church-going type, but—”

She cut him off with a laugh, her expression softening. “Max, you don’t even own a church-appropriate outfit.”

He scratched the back of his neck, glancing toward his wardrobe. She wasn’t wrong. His idea of formal wear was a clean pair of jeans and a button-up he hadn’t worn in years.

“You sure you don’t want me to tag along?” he asked, feeling strangely out of his depth.

She shook her head, her voice gentle. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. You can wait outside for me this week if you want.”

“Deal,” he said, relief and a hint of disappointment mingling in his chest.

She smiled again, stepping closer and resting a hand on his arm. “Thank you for offering, though. It means a lot.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

She laughed, her fingers lingering on his arm for a moment before she turned back to the pancakes.

Max leaned against the counter, watching her as she plated their breakfast. She moved with a quiet confidence, her presence filling the small space in a way that felt both comforting and terrifying.

As they sat down to eat, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this Sunday—this moment—was going to stay with him long after she walked out the door.

Max didn’t know what he had with her, but he loved it. He loved every weekend she spent with him, loved the way her presence brightened his space. He loved the little things she did—the soft hum of her voice filling his trailer, the way she folded his shirts with the corners lined up perfectly, and the way she always looked at him like he was more than the guy with grease-stained hands and a rough past.

He didn’t deserve her, and he knew it. But damn if he wasn’t going to soak up every moment she gave him.

It was midweek when she surprised him. The steady rhythm of clanking tools and revving engines filled the garage as Max worked on a beat-up old Ford, grease smudged across his forearms. The day had been uneventful so far, the usual grind of repairs keeping his hands busy and his thoughts on autopilot.

Then she walked in.

He didn’t see her at first, his head buried under the hood, but the sound of her soft “Hi, Max,” was enough to make him straighten immediately, his heart giving an uncharacteristic jump.

She stood near the door, a paper bag in hand, wearing one of those sundresses that always made him weak. Her hair caught the sunlight streaming through the open garage door, and she looked so out of place among the grease and oil stains that it made him grin.

“Hey, angel,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag as he walked over to her. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo—something floral and sweet—hit him, and he lingered for just a second longer than he should have.

“What’s this?” he asked, nodding toward the bag.

“Lunch,” she said simply, holding it out to him.

His brow furrowed as he took it, glancing inside. A neatly packed sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water stared back at him. “I was fine for lunch,” he said, a little sheepishly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile, and she crossed her arms. “A hot dog and a beer is not healthy for you, Max.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “What, you been spying on me now?”

“I’ve been paying attention,” she countered, stepping closer and poking playfully at his stomach. “You keep eating like that, and you’ll lose your figure.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” he teased, setting the bag on a nearby workbench. He leaned down slightly, lowering his voice to a flirtatious drawl. “You trying to cop a look at my abs, angel?”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it just enough to reveal his toned stomach, a smirk playing on his lips.

Her face turned bright red, and she quickly looked away, stammering, “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, you started it,” he said with a laugh, dropping his shirt back into place. He couldn’t help but admire the way her blush crept down her neck. She was too easy to fluster, and he loved every second of it.

“I have to catch the bus back soon,” she said after a moment, still avoiding his gaze as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

The mention of her leaving tugged at something in his chest, but he nodded. “All right. Thanks for the lunch, though. Really.”

Her smile returned, softer this time. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Always.”

After she left, Max stood by the workbench for a moment, staring at the lunch bag like it was some kind of relic.

“Who was that?” a gruff voice broke his reverie.

Max turned to see his boss, Tommy, leaning against the frame of the garage’s office door, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Just a friend,” Max said, though the words tasted wrong. She was more than that, even if he couldn’t quite put a label on it.

Tommy snorted. “Yeah, sure. A friend who packs you lunch and makes you look like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

“Shut up,” Max muttered, grabbing a wrench and returning to the Ford.

Tommy laughed, taking a long drag from his cigarette before speaking again. “You’ve got balls, kid. Being with the preacher’s daughter? That’s a whole mess I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.”

Max stiffened, but he didn’t respond.

Tommy continued, his tone softening. “But I gotta say... I haven’t seen you this happy since the day you bought that trailer. She’s good for you.”

Max glanced over his shoulder, his grip tightening on the wrench. “Yeah. She is.”

Tommy nodded, stubbing out his cigarette. “Don’t screw it up, kid.”

Max didn’t answer, but as he went under the Ford, he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Whatever this thing was with her, he wasn’t letting it go.

No less than a few days later she was stepping out of her last lecture of the day, her bag slung over her shoulder and her friend Sarah chattering animatedly about some party happening over the weekend. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the campus, and the warm breeze carried the faint scent of freshly cut grass.

But then she saw it.

Parked just beyond the gates was a familiar motorbike, its polished chrome glinting in the sunlight. Leaning against it, arms crossed and looking every bit the troublemaker he was, stood Max.

Her breath hitched, a smile spreading across her face before she could stop it. He didn’t belong here—his grease-streaked jeans and leather jacket a stark contrast to the sea of students with their backpacks and books—but somehow, he looked perfect.

“Is that... your boyfriend?” Sarah asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

She hesitated for a split second, then shook her head. “Just a friend.” But her cheeks betrayed her, flushing pink as she adjusted her bag and headed toward him.

As she approached, Max straightened, his expression softening in a way he reserved only for her. “Milady,” he said with a playful smirk, holding out the spare helmet like a knight presenting a prize.

She laughed, her smile widening as she took the helmet from him. “You’re ridiculous,” she teased, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

He didn’t bother hiding the grin that spread across his face as she slid the helmet on. Swinging her leg over the back of the bike, she settled behind him, her arms wrapping securely around his waist.

“Hold on tight, angel,” he said, revving the engine.

The ride to her aunt’s was a familiar one now. She’d spent so many weekends at his trailer that the route was second nature, but it never lost its charm. The wind whipped past her, carrying away the stress of the day, and all she could think about was the solid warmth of Max in front of her and the way her heart felt light every time she was with him.

When they pulled up outside her aunt’s house, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the world in hues of orange and pink. She slid off the bike, pulling the helmet off and shaking out her hair.

“Drive home safe,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on him.

“For you, always, angel,” he replied, his voice low but steady.

Her lips curved into a small, grateful smile as she turned and headed up the walkway. She glanced back once, just in time to see him watching her, the faintest hint of a smile on his face before he started the engine and roared away into the fading light.

Max never would have referred to his trailer as a home. For years, it had been little more than a roof over his head—a place to sleep and keep his stuff, nothing more. It wasn’t like the house he’d known she’d grown up in, with its creaking floors and warm kitchen smells, or even the crummy apartment he’d shared with Danny in his early twenties.

But now...

Now there were little reminders of her everywhere. A book she’d left on the coffee table, its pages dog-eared in the way she knew drove him crazy. A neatly folded throw blanket she’d brought over one chilly night. The small vase on the windowsill, holding wildflowers she’d picked on a whim.

She hadn’t moved in—not really. But every item she left behind, every small touch of hers that lingered, made the space feel warmer. More alive.

More like home.

Max sat on the couch, his gaze drifting over the room. His place was still rough around the edges—there was no hiding the peeling wallpaper or the worn linoleum floors—but with her here, even in these small ways, it felt different.

He picked up the book she’d left, turning it over in his hands. The corners were bent, and a faint scent of her perfume clung to the pages. He shook his head with a smile, setting it back down.

Yeah, he thought, leaning back against the cushions. She made it feel like home.

<3 <3 <3

Max’s life continued with her like this for another eleven months. Each day, it felt like he was living in a dream he never wanted to wake up from. They fell into a rhythm—a routine that felt as comforting as it was impossible to believe.

She was no longer just the preacher’s daughter he had met outside a Church. She was part of his life, his home. More than half the time, she stayed at his place now, spending her nights curled up on his couch, reading or laughing at some ridiculous things he'd say, more often than not in the same oversized t-shirt she’d first worn when she moved in. Her presence filled every corner of his small, humble space, making it feel less like a place where he merely existed and more like somewhere he belonged.

He had never pushed her for anything—never tried to rush her into kissing him, never demanded more than what she was willing to give. There were moments where he could feel the pull between them, when their eyes lingered a little longer or their hands brushed in ways that made his heart race, but he was patient. She had her own pace, and for once, he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. She had her own life to rebuild, and he was content to be a steady presence in it.

She still went to church every Sunday, keeping that part of her life separate, even though she never spoke to her father anymore. Church was the one thing she still clung to, the only part of her old life that hadn’t unravelled completely. Max didn’t understand it—he couldn’t—but he never asked her to give it up. If it brought her peace, if it helped her hold on to a piece of herself, then he respected it. He just wished she would let him share in it, but he wasn’t going to force it.

And then, the day finally came.

Max had been saving for months, every extra penny he made going toward the dream he’d never dared to voice out loud—the dream of getting them out of the cramped, creaky trailer and into something better. A place where she didn’t have to worry about the walls being thin or the smell of grease lingering in the air. Something more... theirs.

He had found it. A small but cosy apartment uptown, with high ceilings and a view of the city skyline. It was perfect for them—quiet, private, and just far enough from everything they both needed to escape from. He’d signed the lease that morning, a rush of pride and anticipation filling his chest as he pictured her reaction.

When she walked through the door that evening, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty as he met her at the door.

“I got us a place,” he said, his voice thick with excitement.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the suddenness of his words, but the moment she saw the joy in his eyes, the realisation hit her. She stepped forward, her face lighting up with the kind of smile that made everything else fade into the background.

“Max...” she whispered, and without thinking, without hesitating, she threw her arms around him, pulling him close.

Her lips found his in an instant.

It wasn’t a soft kiss, not one of those cautious first kisses that came with hesitations or uncertainty. It was full of the weight of everything that had built up between them—the months of waiting, the slow burn of tension that had been simmering beneath the surface. Their kiss was deep, heated, urgent, as if they both had been holding their breath and were finally allowed to exhale.

Max’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her body against his. He deepened the kiss, his lips claiming hers as if he had waited an eternity for this moment. He felt her fingers thread through his hair, tugging him closer, her body pressing into his with a desperation that matched his own.

It was the kind of kiss that shook him to the core, that made everything else in the world fade into the background—her soft breath against his lips, the quiet hum of the city outside, the rush of blood in his ears. All that mattered was her.

Her arms slid up around his neck, her body melting against his, and for the first time in a year, Max felt like he had finally found the place where he belonged.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, their breaths ragged, she looked at him with something that could only be described as wonder. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen from their kiss, and there was a softness in her gaze that made his heart stutter in his chest.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

Max smiled, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. “Yeah, me too.”

There was a moment of silence, the kind that spoke volumes in the space between them. Her hands lingered on his chest, and he could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his. He had never known a kiss could feel so much like coming home.

He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “We... we really did it, huh?”

She nodded, her smile widening. “We did.”

Max had never been one for big, sweeping gestures. But with her, it was different. Everything about her made him want to be more than the guy who had nothing. He wanted to be the man who made her feel safe, cherished, loved. He wanted to give her everything—everything she deserved.

He kissed her again, slower this time, his lips brushing over hers as if savouring the sweetness of the moment. When they finally pulled apart, he smiled down at her, his hand gently cupping her face.

“I’m so damn lucky to have you,” he said softly.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place, but it was the kind of look that made his heart stutter in his chest. “No, Max,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth. “I’m the lucky one.”

And for the first time, in a long time, Max allowed himself to believe it. He wasn’t just living with her. He wasn’t just sharing space with her.

He was building a life with her. A life that, even in its quiet moments, felt like everything.

And for the first time, he realised what home truly was.

The kiss lingered in the air between them, warm and slow, as if time had stretched to accommodate the overwhelming intensity of the moment. Max’s hands rested gently on her waist, feeling the soft press of her body against his, and the faint sound of their shared breath was the only noise in the room. They were tangled together—hearts racing, bodies melting into each other—as though nothing else mattered.

For the first time in a year, Max felt completely alive. Completely whole.

She pulled away slightly, breathless, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide, still processing the heat of the kiss, the weight of what it meant. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers one last time, a soft whisper against her skin.

“Marry me.”

The words were so quiet, so soft, that for a second, she thought she had imagined them. She blinked, drawing back slightly to look at him, her chest tightening with uncertainty. “What?”

Max smiled at her confusion, a hint of something deeper in his eyes. His hands gently cupped her face, his thumb running along her jawline as if trying to memorise every detail of her. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers as he whispered again, more seriously this time, “Marry me, angel.”

She froze for a heartbeat, thinking it was some sort of joke, some playful teasing. The idea of Max, the guy who’d never believed in love or commitment, asking her something like that was almost impossible to believe.

But the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability she had never seen from him before, made her heart skip a beat. There was no hint of jest, no trace of humour. He meant it.

Max saw the hesitation in her eyes and gently kissed her lips again, his voice rough and low as he pulled back just enough to speak.

“I never thought I’d make it past twenty-one,” he began, his gaze intense, almost haunted, as if these words were ones he had carried inside him for far too long. “I’ve been lost for so long. I didn’t think I’d ever have a reason to keep going, to fight for anything.”

She could hear the rawness in his voice, the weight of everything he had lived through—the loneliness, the struggles, the doubts. His eyes searched hers, looking for understanding, for a connection that only she could give.

“But you, angel...” His voice softened, but the words still hit her like a wave, sweeping away any doubts. “You’ve given me hope. You’ve given me a reason to live. A reason to fight for something better.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was peaceful, full of something unspoken, something they both felt but had never truly expressed until now.

She could feel her heart racing, her emotions swelling inside her chest, a warmth spreading through her like wildfire. Max—rough-around-the-edges Max, the guy who had been her rock for so long—was here, telling her that she had been the reason he had found the strength to keep going.

With her, he had found his reason.

“I...” Her voice faltered, thick with emotion, and she cupped his face in her hands, leaning in closer. “Yes, Max. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before he kissed her again, this time softer, more tender, as though sealing a promise. She melted into it, her fingers threading through his hair, holding on to him as if this moment was the only one that mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, the weight of their promise hanging in the air, Max’s hands moved slowly down her body. He smiled as he reached for her purity ring, the symbol of the life she had left behind. With the gentleness of someone who understood the significance of the gesture, he took the ring off her finger.

“I’ve got something for you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Max took one of his necklaces, a simple silver chain that had always felt like a part of him, and threaded her ring onto it. He placed it around his neck, letting the cool metal of the ring rest against her skin. “This is you now,” he said quietly, his eyes not leaving hers. “And I’m the only one who gets to wear it.”

Her fingers gently touched the ring, feeling the warmth of her promise against him.

Then, Max reached down to his own hand, taking off a ring—one he never took off, the one that had been his symbol of defiance for years. He hadn’t given it to anyone else, and he certainly hadn’t planned on giving it to anyone. But now, with her, it felt like the only thing that made sense.

With a steady hand, he reached for the cross necklace she always wore, taking it between his fingers and slipping the ring onto it. The cool metal of his ring clicked against the chain, its weight heavier than it had ever felt before.

“This one’s for you,” he said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear as he tucked the cross back against her skin. “Because we’re in this together now. No going back.”

She stared at the ring hanging from her necklace, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions—love, disbelief, and gratitude. She had never imagined a life like this. But now, with him, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“I’m ready, Max,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m ready to start this new part of my life. With you.”

Max pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if she was the most precious thing in the world, and whispered against her hair, “I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.”

And in that moment, with her purity ring around his neck and his own ring on her cross necklace, it was clear to both of them that this was only the beginning.

The beginning of forever.

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt

[facioleeknow]

Hi ele! Ive been following for a while but haven’t sent any requests. Sooo, im here with one:

Dom!Husband!Hyunjin x Sub!Fem!Reader

Reader and hyunjin were cuddling, until things started to get heated.

Tysm!

First but not last ° Hwang Hyunjin

You're needy, really needy so Hyunjin decides to haul you on top of his lap and let you take what you want.

Wc: 993                Genre: smut, 18+ ONLY

Tw: groping, creampie, unprotected sex, sub reader, dirty talk, riding, humping, first time on top, crying, reader cums quickly, sub space, hints at after care, let me know if I missed something!

AN: Reblogs and comments are always welcome and very highly appreciated! If you want to be tagged on my work go on my masterpost!

Lazy Sundays with your husband were the best. Laying down on the couch, watching stupid tv shows and cuddling together- your skin on his, his warmth enveloping you. Unfortunately these types of days were very rare. Both of your schedules were very hectic so whenever you had free time you always decided to stay in and bask in each other's presence.

The drama on the tv had been playing for hours, it was an old one that you and Hyunjin had particularly liked and rewatched religiously. Hyunjin's big, warm hand ran up and down your naked back under your t-shirt. It was something he did habitually, nothing new, but there was something about his touch that day. His fingertips sent sparks through your whole body. Goosebumps rose on your back in an irregular pattern. Sweat collected on the back of your neck and your breath was shallow. It was impossible that your husband hadn't noticed but he remained focused on the tv. 

Your panties had begun to stick to your core uncomfortably and not even the squishing and rubbing of your plush thighs did anything to alleviate your ache.

When you started to squirm and wriggle, Hyunjin turned to look at you.

“What is it, my love?” his voice and his eyes were sweet as always when he talked to you. A whine escaped your lips, your head buried in his chest.

“Jinnie, I need you,” you whined and panted.

“You need me baby?” 

Your lower lip trembled and your eyes welled with tears, it was a pitiful sight, but Hyunjin loved it when you got desperate like this. You nodded.

“Then come get what you want, my sweet,” Hyunjin hadn't even finished his sentence that he was hauling you into his lap and pushing your clothed pussy onto his hard length. Your lips formed an O as you felt him pressed up onto you.

“But I've never…” your confidence wavered.

“It's time you learn, you're a big girl, baby,” Hyunjin saw the insecurity in your eyes, “you're gonna be fine baby, just do what feels good for you and you'll do great,” he reassured you.

You hummed at his words, he never would have lied to you. With that your husband pressed your pelvises back together again, your pussy pulsed and gushed. With small uncertain movements, you started grinding on him, back and forth. His dick twitched in his boxers and grew even harder, a wet patch of precum stained his underwear. 

Hyunjin's eyes twinkled with love as he gazed up at you. You were beautiful, like a queen on her throne. 

The movement of your hips had started to get more and more frantic, arousal and pleasure clouded your mind.

“Shit, slow down, my love, you're gonna hurt yourself,” his voice was shaky, the proof of the unfathomable pleasure you were making him feel. His hands gripped the juncture between your torso and your thighs, his fingers digged into the flesh of your ass, effectively stopping your movements.

“Hyunjinnie, inside, please, I need you inside, please, inside, inside,” you kept bubbling, your forehead resting on Hyunjin's shoulder. Your husband gently patted your ass and lifted you up and shaky legs to free his dick from its confines. When he finally sheathed himself inside you, a high pitched cry came out of your mouth and he sighed in pleasure. Your pussy hugged him perfectly, your velvety warm walls felt almost comforting to him.

“You can move, baby, try rocking your hips back and forth.*

Hyunjin didn't even have to repeat himself that you started to furiously hump him, searching for your Hugh and your high only. Small ‘huh’s were the only sounds coming from you while Hyunjin threw his head back and panted loudly at your actions. Your slick dripped down his balls and the wet sounds you were making echoed and bounced of the walls.

“My little lover humping me like a dumb puppy. You're making me feel so good, do you feel good, my muse?” Hyunjin's voice was husky and sensual, it went straight to your pussy and made a ring of white cream collect around Hyunjin's girth.

“I can't, Jinnie, I can't,” you whined pathetically.

“Aw, baby, do you need me to touch your little clit? Get it all wet as well? Rub you until you're all sore?” You didn't have to answer, he wasn't looking for an answer. His long and warm fingers found your clit and began rubbing and pinching roughly just how you liked. The pleasure downed all you all at the same time and in an instant you could feel your high approaching. It was one of the fastest and most powerful orgasms you had ever reached, never in your life you had gotten so worked up so fast but then again never in your life had you been on top. 

Your humping sped up and Hyunjin knew you were close, after the years spent together you were like an open book to him. The hand that was resting on waist reached under your t shirt and pinched your right nipple, hard. You wailed.

Your high washed over you in mere seconds, leaving you panting and exhausted, but Hyunjin hadn't cum and you had to stay awake. 

“Jinnie please, cum in me, please I want it inside, I want to be full of you,” you babbled tiredly. Hyunjin started thrusting into you strongly, you could feel him hit your cervix every time. The pleasure mixed with the pain and you slipped into that dimension where everything is made of cotton and the world feels soft. 

Your husband reached your high shortly after you, his cum shot deep into your womb and filled you up to the brim. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you kept repeating. Hyunjin's tired hands lifted up and started petting your hair lovingly, trying to ground you.

“It's all right baby, you're safe with me. Let's get you cleaned up okay?”

[corysmiles]

would you ever consider writing bg3 g/t fearplay from the tiny’s perspective? maybe gale or wyll? im a sucker for characters that aren’t intimidating or scary being seen as terrifying from the tiny’s perspective.

YES ABSOLUTELY!!

Here is Gale fear play as a treat, Wyll will come soon >:)

——————————————————

Tav was used to being around the wizard.

It was only about a week into the whole tadpole predicament when Tav was noticed by the much larger people at the camp, and Gale had been one of the first in support of keeping the tiny with them. They’d been terrified of the group at the time, but the tadpole in their brain still called to the gigantic figures. And as scary as some of the giants were, they were all relatively careful and kind…aside from the vampire of course. Although even his teasing got better eventually.

Gale, however, was easily one of the least intimidating giants Tav had ever met.

The man never held them without permission and almost all conversations with him led to some discussion of magic or what it was like to be so small. He was curious to his core, and while he was fascinated by Tav’s stature, he was never disrespectful.

All in all, being scared of Gale, the most gentle giant they’d ever met, seemed like a ridiculous if not impossible notion.

That was, until they remembered how strong he truly was compared to them.

It was late at night when goblins snuck into their camp. Astarion noticed first, jumping up from his trance to alert the others. Tav barely had time to wipe the sleep from their eyes before they were harshly grabbed, warm skin squeezing tightly around them.

“Hey wait,” Tav yelled as they tried to push their way free, but the hand just grabbed tighter, making it hard to breath and causing theirs limbs to ache.

They tried to get their bearings, taking a gasping breath as they managed to push their head free, “Fucking hells, let me go!”

But the hand only wrapped around them tighter, squeezing their chest painfully causing a sharp pain in their lungs. They fought as hard as they could but it was no use, and after a few seconds of being crushed they were haphazardly thrown into something dark. A pocket…

All around them they heard yells and movement as the fabric twisted around them uncomfortably, but no matter how much they yelled they didn’t get a response. They twisted to try to orient themselves but every time they managed to sit up they were knocked back down again.

It felt like hours before it finally stopped, and Tav was shaking head to toe. The sounds around them died down as the person keeping them captive stopped moving so frantically. It was over.

“Hells…” a familiar loud voice exhaled from above them as a hand reached down to them…the same hand that not too long before had squeezed them so tight they feared they’d pop.

Instinctively they winced and flinched away, trying to avoid the grasping fingers. However, there wasn’t much they could do against someone so much larger than themselves. They kicked and scratched as the tight grip wrapped around them, gentler this time.

When they were pulled out into the light of the camp they were met with a familiar face- Gale, bloodied and breathing hard. And although the sight of him was usually a much wanted comfort, Tav’s lungs froze in their chest.

“My apologies for grabbing you earlier,” Gale started with an apologetic smile, “There was quite a bit of panic.”

Tav tried to process the man’s words, but their whole body was frozen. They felt like they were stuck in glue, and all they could move was their eyes.

“Are you alright?” Gale asked in concern, his brows furrowed together.

Tav wanted to respond, they really did, but it was like they had no control over their own body. Their mouth felt dry and their brain screamed at them to run.

Before they could even process it they had bolted upright and dashed to try to jump out of Gale’s hand. But the human was faster. Before Tav could get away the fingers closed over top of them. They yelped and covered their head with their arms, anticipating the moment he would crush them, but it never came.

“Woah there settle down,” Gale said in a hushed voice, “Are you alright? I apologize if I startled you earlier, but I didn’t want one of the goblins to find you first.”

Tav just shook in his closed fist, anxious to get away from the man. In the back of their head they knew Gale was safe, but at the moment, a much larger part of them felt like a cornered animal facing off against a wolf.

“I…” Gale paused, “I’m sorry, if I scared you. I promise it wasn’t my intention.”

As he said it he slowly opened his hand revealing to the shell-shocked tiny that they were now in the man’s tent. They were carefully placed down on one of the many pillows the wizard kept before the giant man backed away, hands up in reassurance.

“I won’t touch you again,” Gale frowned, “I promise. But I need you to breathe.”

Tav’s breaths still came in panicked gasps as they stared up at the giant man. They retreated back into the soft pillow as much as they could, and waited, eyes piercing into Gale’s own. The wizard seemed lost in thought for a moment as he studied the tiny’s reactions.

“Did I hurt you?” Gale asked after a moment, voice cautious and low.

It took a few seconds for Tav to build up the courage to respond, but when they did their voice was barely audible.

“It was…it was too tight.”

Immediately, Gale’s eyes widened in a flash of recognition. He took a step forward towards the tiny as if to comfort them, but paused when he saw their tiny form freeze.

“I…I’m quite sorry,” Gale mumbled, “I…fuck…I know what’s done is done, but I truly did not intend to bring you any harm…I admit I could have been more cautious but I suppose I wasn’t thinking.”

Tav watched as the man visibly shrunk in on himself; they could see the tightness in his stance like a band ready to snap.

“You can sleep somewhere else tonight,” Gale says again softly after a minute of silence, “You don’t have to stay in my tent, I’d understand.”

Tav took a deep breath as their eyes met the wizard’s. In the back of their mind they realized they had never seen him so upset before.

“No,” Tav responded, barely above a whisper, “It’s…it was an accident. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this I just…it hurt.”

Gale swallowed nervously, his throat bobbing, “And I could never apologize enough for that.”

Tav nodded in response, their movements stiff as their brain finally slowed its constant stream of run, run, run. As the panic wore off, Tav finally started to relax into the pillow under them. Gale really did look devastated.

“I just suppose I forgot,” Tav said slowly, “You all are much larger than me, but I’ve become so used to it I forgot anything could ever go wrong.”

Gale nodded in response with a sigh, “And I forgot you’re much more delicate than you seem.”

An uncomfortable quiet filled the tent as the two both searched for something to say. And although Tav felt much calmer than they had moments before, a deep part of them still feared their giant friend.

“It’s not your fault,” Tav finally managed to get out through dry lips, “You were just trying to help.”

Gale frowned at that as he finally took a step forward to sit down on the ground. Now closer to the tiny’s level, his eyes searched them like he was looking for something.

“But I still hurt you,” Gale said.

Tav grimaced at the man’s words and nodded, “It’s okay, I forgive you just…please be more careful next time.”

Finally a soft smile spread across the giant’s face as he exhaled a long sigh, “You know I was quite hoping there wouldn’t have to be a next time.”

For the first time that night Tav felt themselves relax, truly relax. As much as it had scared them they knew Gale meant what he said. The wizard was still kind, after all.

Tav nodded in response as a yawn escaped their lips, “Well, I’m beat after all that. And you look like shit, so I think it’s bed time.”

Gale laughed softly and shook his head, “Yes I do believe so.”

Carefully, he pulled himself into his sleeping bag, making sure not to jostle the pillow Tav was laying on. His movements were still stiff, like he was nervous the tiny would try to flee again if he moved too fast, but neither chose to say anything about it.

The proximity to the giant felt less comforting than it had in previous nights, but as Gale’s breaths evened out Tav let themselves relax. He wouldn’t hurt them, not on purpose.

And even if they still flinched whenever he shifted in his sleep, in their heart they knew that fact was true.

[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.

[fairyoftbz]

childish fear | l. juyeon

⚔ pairing: stranger!juyeon x single mom! fem! reader ⚔ genre: fluff ⚔ wc : 3.2k ⚔ tw: none ⚔ a/n: im so sorry it's been so long but my work keeps me super busy and i hate my unposted fics that i wrote in the past, hence my absence. i promise to come back here asap!! <33 ⚔ requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“Mommy, where are we going?” your daughter asked for the nth time as you guided her foot by the ankle in her shoe. Her tiny hand leant on your shoulder while you fastened the Velcro straps and zipped up her jacket, walking out of your apartment to the corridor of your floor. She watched you locked the front door and sliding the keys in your handbag before grabbing her hand to the elevator.

“As I’ve told you, we’re heading to a coffee shop to see Uncle Kevin and Jinseon, remember?” she clapped in her hands as if she just learnt the news, despite her asking this question over five times since she woke up. You forgave her because she was at the age where she would find everything fascinating and barely pay attention to what you said. You chuckled and shook your head with a smile as her curious eyes observed the elevator, touching the mirror and gasping at the coldness of it under her palm. It was almost guaranteed that she didn’t listen and will ask again in a couple of minutes.

“Where are we going?” here we go again, her tiny voice reaching your ear above the roaring motor of the bus. She grabbed your leg as you were typing something on your phone with one hand, the other gripping the metallic bar as tight as possible as your daughter was not the most balanced child.

“Baby, I’ve told you many times that we are going to see Kevin and Jinseon at the coffee shop because Mommy and Uncle Kevin have to do something for work,” you looked at her with stern eyes, something you always did when she wasn’t paying attention.

“But why aren’t we going to their house? It’s so big!” she argued, and the bus doors opened, quickly sliding your phone in your back pocket and jumped out of the bus with your daughter in your arms.

“Uncle Kevin wants to change the interior of the house, so people work there, and it’s not safe for them and us to meet there. But I promise that we’ll go back there soon!”

“I won’t be able to draw with Jinseon?” you shook your head from side to side, and your daughter pouted, nuzzling her face in your neck.

“Not at his house, but maybe he brought a colouring book like yours today!” you exclaimed, and her mood lifted instantly, getting all giddy and happy to share her passion with her best friend.

Pushing the door of the coffee shop, you were instantly met with a reassuring warmth and the good smell of coffee, placing your daughter back on the ground as you lined up to order. The place was quite busy, but you were right before the time people were fighting to get a table.

“Mommy, this table!” she asked and pointed her little finger towards a table near the window, her little topknot moving on her head as she looked up at you.

“Good choice, baby,” you said, and she grabbed your hand again, noticing her gaze shifting to something scared. You frowned as she went to stand in front of you, her hands gripping your thighs as she stared up at you.

You asked for your usual order and a strawberry smoothie for your daughter, who happily giggled when she saw the sliced fruit inside of her transparent cup. She laughed and ran to the table you had agreed on occupying, her little hands pressed on the seat as she hoisted herself alone on it.

A few minutes after giving your daughter her pens and colouring books, your phone rang in your back pocket, getting you out of your bubble of focus as you stopped typing.

“Hello?” you said, and your best friend’s voice reached your ear.

“Hi Y/N, I’m really sorry to warn you only now, but I won’t be able to make it with Jinseon.” A wave of disappointment flooded your heart, but you didn’t raise it.

“Oh my. Did something happen?” you asked as your daughter was too busy colouring a monkey pink to even hear what you were talking about.

“Thankfully no, I uhm… I forgot that my in-laws invited us to a five-star restaurant today,” he said, and you bitterly chuckled, feeling sorry for him as you knew the exhausting relationship he had with them.

“Sounds fun,” you sarcastically said as you heard him sigh on the other side of the phone, “don’t worry, we can always meet up another time.”

“Won’t Chunae be disappointed?” Kevin asked, and you emitted a laugh, quickly looking to the side as someone at the table next to yours drew a chair.

“I’ll handle her, don’t worry about it. Have fun with your most favourite people in the world, then!” you sarcastically said, and you heard him sigh.

“Thanks, but I’d rather die than witnessing my mother-in-law brag again about the new diamond necklace she bought and lie on how she’s not close to bankrupting,” you giggled and winked at your daughter, amused by the situation. That was what you got to have your stepson handling the family accounts and his best friend as an assistant counsellor. You both could see her lie to everyone, and it was funny.

“Try to make her understand that you know she’s lying in front of everyone else and see how she reacts,” you suggested and heard him gasp at your words.

“I beg you Y/N, can you please schedule us an appointment so I can ruin her?”

“Of course,” you opened another tab on your computer, typing and clicking on a few things to finally get to your best friend’s schedule.

“You can tell her that she can come on Friday at 1 pm to discuss about her financial state. I just sent her an email,” you announced, and Kevin sighed, imagining him biting his lower lip and clutch his fist in satisfaction.

“You’re the best. I gotta go now,” you took a sip of your drink and wished him good luck before hanging up.

“M-Mommy?” you heard your daughter whisper, barely making out her words as the coffee shop music and the hustling was quite loud. You smiled, but it immediately vanished as you saw her scared state, pen lingering on the pages of her colouring book. Her eyes were drawn to the table next to yours, her mouth trembling from time to time, close to crying.

Following her gaze, you noticed a man around your age and immediately understood your daughter’s fear as you took in the sight. The man was scrolling on his phone, his white t-shirt hugging his broad shoulders and slender torso perfectly. His biceps flexed each time he swiped up his finger on the screen or took a sip of coffee, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You weren’t going to lie that he was super handsome, but something else couldn’t go unnoticed in your eyes.

His tattoos.

He was covered in them. Your eyes could scarcely spot some natural, intact skin. Arms, forearms, chest and neck, only his face remained untouched. His jet-black hair was as dark as his eyes, yet they still held something soft and human in them. A thin nose with plumped, pinkish lips, it would have been almost impossible for you to guess that he had tattoos all over his body if you only saw his face.

You found him quite attractive to say the least, but it was quite the opposite for your daughter. She found tattoos terrifying, only accepting the small, hidden ones Kevin had. Her eyes welled up with tears, and you gently called her name, gesturing her to come closer. She jumped out of her seat, carefully going around the table from the opposite side where the man was sitting and walked towards you.

“Baby, those are just tattoos. You see what you draw and colour in your books with Jinseon? This man decided to do it on his skin because he likes drawings too!” you explained gently as your daughter couldn’t tear her gaze off the man.

“But it’s scary,” she mumbled, and you shook your head, gently cradling her cheek.

“Do you find the drawings on Uncle Kevin’s skin scary?” you asked, and she disagreed, finally looking up at you.

“It’s the same for him. Like Uncle Kevin, he decided to get them on his skin because he likes the shapes and colours. Do you understand?” you smiled as she wiped her teary eyes, nodding, trying to look confident. But you knew your daughter, she was still scared.

“Do you want to switch seats with Mommy?”

“No,” she said in a frail voice, and you kissed her cheek while rubbing her back. It was always the same. Bizarrely, when she feared something, she wanted to stay close to it as if she was determined of getting over her irrational fear.

Chunae walked back on her seat and resumed colouring, her gaze looking to her left from time to time. You smiled and stared at your computer again, getting distracted by the man as well, but not for the same reasons as your daughter.

“You’re a mother Y/N, don’t let those stupid thoughts get inside your head,” you closed your eyes and mentally slapped yourself, heavily sighing as you answered some emails, focusing back on your work.

You were so concentrated on your tasks that you didn’t even notice what was happening in front of you. Chunae became terrified as the man caught her staring, his eyes transforming into crescent moons when he softly waved at her. Her eyes widened and started colouring faster, her nose almost touching the paper as if she wanted everything around her to disappear. It happened once, twice, but she remembered what you always told her; never talk to strangers. So when the young man whispered a small ‘hi!’ to her, she panicked and called for you.

“Mommy!” she got you out of your work bubble, and you stared at her from above your computer screen, fingers still typing on the computer. Your hands stopped when you noticed her little forefinger pointing at the man, whose chocolate eyes were quick to shift to yours.

Shit, he was really handsome.

“What is it, sweetpea?” you asked and lowered your computer screen. “I’m sorry for her behaviour, she's not usually like that,” you said, grabbing her hand as you sent an apologetic smile to the man.

He shook his head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, I get it. She’s still quite young,” you were sized by a shiver when two sets of white, perfectly aligned teeth almost blinded you as his mouth stretched into a bigger smile.

“I’m five!” she said, pouting, crossing her arms on her chest, staring at the table with furrowed brows.

The young man’s eyes widened, and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile as he acknowledged her stubbornness. You puffed and rolled your eyes at her behaviour, noticing with a smirk that she was still glancing at his tattoos.

“What’s your name?” he asked after looking at you, asking for permission. Your daughter’s unsure eyes stared at you, and you nodded, allowing her to talk to him.

“Ch-Chunae,” she answered, and his mouth transformed into a surprised ‘o’, letting out a small gasp.

“That’s a very pretty name, I’m Juyeon,” he said, and your daughter blushed, a veil of shyness appearing in her eyes as he held out his hand for her to shake it. You smiled as he indirectly complimented you for choosing her name, his gaze softening as she timidly grabbed his hand. Her eyes couldn’t help but scrutinise his tattooed hand with attention, making the man smile fondly and brightly.

“I have drawings all over my arms, do you want to see them?” he asked, keeping a great eye on you to see any sign of reluctance. Or maybe it was for something else, but you didn’t need to know about this.

“But they’re scary,” she said, and Juyeon whole-heartedly laughed, drawing the sleeve of his t-shirt to the top of his shoulder.

“Look at this one,” he said as he twisted his biceps, noticing a dragon spitting fire and your daughter’s eyes widened. He then turned his forearm to show her a dolphin near the crook of his elbow, smiling as he watched your daughter’s expression change as she saw all his tattoos on his arms. She was now mesmerised by the tattoos, the gentle, deep voice of the man explaining to her as she stared at his inked arms.

“Do you wanna colour this one?” he asked, finger showing the rose on the back of his hand.

“Really?” Chunae was surprised by his question, and Juyeon smiled at you, your daughter already grabbing her red pen.

“You really don’t have to,” you embarrassingly said, but the man shook his head, resting his large hand in front of your daughter, who pushed all her belongings to the side.

“If that can keep her quiet while you work, I don’t mind,” he stated, and you raised your eyebrows, a grateful smile drawn on your face.

Colouring the red rose ended up inking the poor man’s entire arm, who had a lot of patience and discipline when it came to children. Chunae went over the line with her pen a few times, only to have him reassure and praise her to continue when she started feeling guilty.

“Oh no!” she gasped as her hand clumsily went over the scales of the snake circling his forearm, Juyeon chuckling before wetting his thumb to erase the misdrawn ink. “It’s okay, it’s okay, keep going,” he said in a gentle tone, smiling at your daughter as she was looking for reassurance.

You had told him a few times that he didn’t have to stay the entire day only here to occupy your daughter, but he genuinely was alright with that. He looked almost happy to talk with you and your daughter since you had stopped working a few moments ago to exchange a few words of politeness with him before heading home.

“Chunae, finish your smoothie before we go home,” you said, and she obeyed, nodding as she placed her pen down and started sipping on her drink.

“I’m really sorry for this,” you gestured to his arms, but he was quick to cut you.

“Ma’am, it's okay, please stop apologising, I gave my agreement for her to do this. You seem like busy parents with your husband, I’m glad I could help,” he smiled, and you frowned.

“H-Husband?” you asked and Juyeon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“O-oh? Wasn’t it your husband on the phone?” you shook your head at his words, only to have him purse his lips in utter embarrassment. “Sorry for assuming,” he said, the tip of his ears turning pink just like his cheeks.

“It’s okay, it was my best friend. I’m actually a single mom,” you explained, and he nodded, his features expressing admiration.

“Wow, you must be super strong then,” he said, and you blinked a few times, discerning something sad appearing in his eyes as he stared at your daughter. It was inappropriate and way too intrusive to ask him about his reaction, so you just offered him a grateful smile.

“I have to admit that it’s not always easy being alone in this, but with a bit of discipline and organisation, you can manage to make it work!” you tried to enlighten the mood, and Juyeon laughed along, but his smile had lost its splendour.

He cleared his throat, and you stood up, your daughter being finally done with her smoothie. You helped her place her pens in the pouch before clearing your belongings off the table, Juyeon standing up as well.

“Will I get to colour your tattoos again?” Chunae asked, and you looked at her sternly, but Juyeon laughed and smiled, gently ruffling her hair.

“This only depends on if your Mommy wants to see me again,” Juyeon crouched down to her level and made sure to get her hair out of the way before zipping her light jacket up to the chin.

You were taken aback by his answer, looking at him in the eyes. Vaguely smiling, he stood back up and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, thumbs playing with the belt loops as he waited for your answer. You breathed in heavily as you stared around you but in his eyes, trying to find an excuse.

“I mean… why not?” you eventually said, and his face brightened, his ears going pink at your answer. You grabbed your daughter’s hand as she was about to run to Juyeon and walked to the exit of the coffee shop, not believing what you’ve just agreed to.

Meeting a man? After your ex? With all the work and busy life that you had? Were you crazy?

Juyeon held out the door for you, and you thanked him, your daughter now almost best friend with the man she feared when he appeared. You sighed and replaced your bag on your shoulder, offering a soft smile to the man.

“Is it okay if we wait a bit before all of... this? I have the deadline of a big project that is coming up next week and it has a considerable influence on the future of my career, I really don’t want to mess it up,” you explained, and Juyeon nodded, his hand going to your bag to shove your key ring back inside since it was falling out.

“It’s more than okay, I’ll wait as long as it takes you to finish this and be ready to meet up with me,” he said, and your mouth fell open, surprised by his attitude. The last man you dated and loved unconditionally dropped the family he had created with you for a career abroad and another woman, his words and behaviour offering warmth to your broken, lonely heart.

You got your phone out and took Juyeon’s number, a relieved smile painted on your face. Maybe not all the men were as selfish and nasty as your ex.

“Call me if you need anything. It can be help, someone to look after her, comfort. Whatever you need, I’ll try to help you out as much as I can,” he said and rested a hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing it.

“Thank you,” you said, and he nodded with a smile.

“Good luck with everything,” you beamed and waved at him, your daughter imitating you as you started walking to the bus stop, hailing the vehicle as it was approaching.

Juyeon walked in the opposite way to the small parking lot in front of the coffee shop, his leg swinging over his motorcycle. He sat there for a minute, watching you get on the bus before the doors closing behind you, holding his helmet in hand. You were a busy, ambitious woman, you had set your priorities high, and you were not going to change them for a man. He was a bit scared of committing to a relationship with a busy woman and a child, yet that didn’t prevent him from wanting to get to know you and finding you attractive. He loved it even if he was a bit anxious about getting hurt, as it happened in his past way too many times to his likings.

His gloved hand moved side to side as the bus drove past him, your daughter on your hip as you both waved at him. The smile you had plastered on your face reassured him, hoping that you would give his heart a break and not break it.

[aalbedo]

tartaglia x injured!reader

request: Hello! How about scenario where character offers help to injured!gn!reader, who is very mistrustful of and reluctant to accept it? I smh love the dynamic "no I don't want your help or anything to do with you but I don't really have a choice". And yeah, I feel like Tartaglia fits it well though you may choose whoever you feel like T v T

format: two-parter (part two here)

ship: tartaglia x reader

tags: reader is the traveler-ish (a completely separate character from aether and lumine, but still the traveler, does that make sense?)

warnings: blood, mildly graphic depiction of injury, stitches and needles

words: 1951

notes: this request awoke something in me, i feel like i could’ve written an entire 70k words fic on this if i had the energy. im sorry anon but i kinda went off the rails with this one hfjdkhfd i hope you still enjoy it. also yeah the header is mildly fucked up because i don’t have the energy to find a better png ok.

You fell to the ground, placing your hands right in a small puddle of your own blood, while a ruin hunter laid on the ground, defeated. Your legs had given in, as a sharp pain hit you through your entire left thigh. There was a large cut on your pants, through which you could see a long, bloody, wound on your skin left by the mechanical monstrosity. It wasn’t too deep, but damn if it hurt.

You squeezed your eyes closed, and let out a loud groan. Reaching a hand into your bag, you pulled out the antiseptic solution you always brought with you, and found out that the bottle was empty. You rummaged more through the bag, looking for a numbing cream, an analgesic potion, even just a remnant of a bandage, anything that could help. Nothing.

Panic started settling in your chest, you were completely alone, in the middle of Lisha, where Hilichurls could attack you at any moment, and you were injured just enough that you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone run away or even fight. You laid down with your back to the ground and covered your face with your hands, as your palms suffocated another loud groan.

You would have to crawl all the way back to the city, or until you found someone willing to help you before fainting from the slow, but consistent, loss of blood. Or worse, dying from shock.

Suddenly, you heard a voice in the distance yell “hey!” Then a second time, with a clearly worried tone in their voice. The pain in your leg made it almost impossible for you to focus on recognizing who that voice belonged to, but it didn’t matter - you were about to finally get some help. You kept your eyes closed as you raised a hand and waved it, showing whoever your savior was where you were.

As you didn’t move from the ground, you heard steps, quickly getting closer to you, until you could feel the presence of someone right above you.

“Oh thank the Archons, I’m completely out of-” you opened your eyes and were met with two bright blue irises staring into yours, and all of the sudden you recognized the voice from before.

“Did that ruin hunter hit you?” Tartaglia was perched right next to your injured leg, already starting to open a backpack that you didn’t recognize as his. He moved his eyes to your thigh and reached out a hand towards it. You swiftly moved the leg away from him, forgetting that it would make it hurt even more, and whimpered when the pain grew.

“I don’t want help from a Harbinger, least of all you” you spat out as you slowly sat up and used your hands to back away from him.

“Stop moving, or you’ll make it worse,” he said plainly as he stood up and followed you, while you kept backing away ignoring the pain through your leg.

“I’ll lose a leg before I let the fatui help me.”

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just watch you crawl all the way back to the Harbor.” He crossed his arms. Oh, he thought he was being funny?

You kept backing away with your arms, until you felt something hard hit your back. A rather large rock was blocking your way, and you would have to crawl around it, and the young man laughed, slowly walking towards you as he took his gloves off and put them in a pocket. You tried moving sideways, but he was quick to crouch down and grab you by the ankle, the one on the injured side, right when you moved.

You inhaled and closed your eyes as a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Are you out of your mind? That hurt!”

He kept your ankle pinned to the ground. “Don’t move,” he ordered. He used his free hand to carefully move the ripped fabric of your clothes out of the way, and get a better look of your wound. You started to feel lightheaded as you saw him tear the fabric further.

You felt some sort of damp cloth on your skin,figuring it was being used to clean the blood off your injury. Tartaglia was being so careful that you could barely feel it, it seemed like he had done this a million times before. You closed your eyes, placing a hand over them, and tilted your head forward, suddenly feeling overcome with dizziness.

“You’re losing a lot of blood. If you hadn’t moved, it would not be this bad right n-” he interrupted himself and he called your name. “You still with me?”

“Mh- huh-uh” you started feeling uneasy. You opened your eyes slightly and caught a glimpse of the wound and immediately looked away. So much blood.

“Stay awake, don’t close your eyes again.” You heard a ruffling of fabric, the damp cloth wasn’t on your skin anymore. “Tell me about the Archons.”

“What?”

“Tell me all of the Archons’ names and their elements,” he repeated. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted you to tell him, but you followed his order, keeping your eyes away from your wound, and instead fixating on the grass beneath you. You were feeling too dizzy to protest, your only choice was to trust him, despite all of your instincts yelling at you to get away from him.

“Okay, there’s... Barbatos, god of Anemo.” You heard more fabric rustling coming from him, but you refused to look at what he was doing.

“Yes, then?”

The dizziness was still overwhelming, but you managed to keep talking, “Morax, god of Geo.” Clinking of glass, probably bottles. “Tsaritsa, goddess of Cryo.”

“Mh-mh.” He sounded… focused. What was he doing?

“Baal, goddess of- Fuck!” The skin around the wound started burning, and so did the wound itself. You bit your lip hard and groaned as the burning kept going on and on, your skin was itching and for a split second it was almost unbearable. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Antiseptic potion,” he replied plainly. “I had to find a way to distract you or you wouldn’t have let me use it.”

“Bastard.” Your skin kept burning, but you slowly got used to the pain as you watched the clear potion sizzling over your still open wound.

He barked a laugh, “I’m trying to help you over here, you’re very welcome.”

You looked at his hands as he skillfully kept cleaning your wound, now there was way less blood coming out and you were starting to feel slightly more at easy. He lifted his head and looked right into your eyes.

“It’s not too deep, but it would probably be better if I stitched it.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Of course I have, you think these healed themselves?” he asked, pointing at the seemingly long scar that started from the base of his neck and went down under his shirt. “At some point you have to learn how to stitch them up yourself.”

You exhaled deeply, still keeping your eyes on his. You realized that his irises resembled the starconches you had seen laid in the sand of Yaoguang Shoal’s beaches.

“Do you have an anaesthetic something to make the stitching hurt less, at least?”

He looked into the bag, moving things around, as if he had no idea what was actually inside the backpack. So it definitely wasn’t his.

He shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. “No, sorry.”

“It’s…” you pondered over it. You would probably have to go all the way to Bubu pharmacy to get an anaesthetic, and on the way there you might lose even more blood. “It’s okay.”

From his backpack, that you hadn’t realized was laid on the ground by your feet, he pulled out a small tin box, and from the box he took out an interestingly shaped needle, recurved like a crescent moon, then a pair of tweezers and a thread so thin you could barely see it.

Just by looking at the needle, you felt uneasy again. “Are you sure we can’t go to the Harbour and get help there?”

“We can do that, if that’s what you prefer, but I would have to carry you - I doubt you could walk at all right now.”

Somehow, the embarrassment of other people seeing you being carried, bridal style, by Tartaglia was stronger than any pain you might have to go through to get these stitches done.

“Fuck it, do it. But be quick.”

“I will try my best,” he said, and his tone sounded genuine to you. You still couldn’t believe you were trusting him like this, after everything he had done to you. “Try to think about something else, focus on anything but the stitches, it’ll hurt less.” He passed the thread through the needle’s hole with surprising skill.

“Okay, uh-” you watched him hover the needle over your skin, probably thinking about the fastest and least painful way to do the job. You moved your gaze from the open would to look at his face, and his expression seemed calm enough to put you somewhat at ease.

His lips were slightly parted and you noticed that he was biting his own tongue, the amount of focus he was putting into helping you was so intriguing to you, you could have never had imagined that he would be so… caring. At least not to you.

You suddenly felt the needle prick through your skin and you whimpered slightly. “Sorry,” he quickly said, before using the tweezers to make the needle pass through your skin and grab it again on the other end.

He repeated the process a few times, slowly pulling the thread every now and then to make the stitch tighter. You observed him the entire time, his eyes quickly darting from one spot to the other, his nose and mouth breathing at a steady pace. You saw him scrunch up his nose a few times, probably to release tension.

Each stitch hurt, you could feel the entire needle pass through your skin and come out again every single time, but you didn’t protest at all, and instead focused on counting the freckles on Tartaglia’s nose bridge, watching the muscles under his skin move every time he swallowed, and carding your fingers through the grass, accidentally ripping some every now and then.

“Done,” you heard him say in an unexpectedly cheerful tone. “I have some bandages, but I don’t think they’re enough for this large of a cut. Though, now that it’s stitched up, it’s probably safe for you to move, and I can help you get to the Harbor where you can buy some numbing potion and bandages.”

You looked down at the wound, and to your relief the stitches looked like they would hold together pretty well. “Sure, I think I can hop for a while, if you hold me.”

He picked up both his and your bag, putting them over his shoulder, then reached out a hand towards you and you realized just how bloody his hands were, as well as his clothes. You grabbed it with your own bloody hand and slowly stood up, placing your weight on the healthy leg. He placed your arm around his shoulders and put his own behind your back, holding you up.

“Ready to go?”

“Mh-mh.” You started walking in the direction of the Harbor, hopping on one leg while Tartaglia held you up.

“Whose backpack is that?” you tried asking.

“Honestly? No idea.”

“What were you doing here in Lisha, anyway?”

“Just some Fatui business, don’t worry about it,” he quickly dismissed your question.

“Always so secretive.”

[oikadori]

Hi. I just found your blog and i really love your writing❤ so I was wondering if i could request a fic with Oikawa. One day he finds his pregnant wife crying coz most of her cloths don't fit anymore so he takes her shopping and spoils her. maybe they end up going a bit overboard with the baby stuff. (the only thing I can think about is papa Oikawa, it makes my heart melt. he would make an amazing papa I feel like he secretly wants a little girl. but would love a son too) Thank you! 💖

I’m so happy you like what i do 📈💗💗OMG ANON YESS, I also believe Oikawa wants a baby girl!! I think he’ll be such a loving dad I CAN’T. Thanks for requesting!!...I went really S O F T with this one. Hope you like it! 

A/N: Ok so I love thinking about domestic Oikawa...my heart just MELTS. Sorry if this turns a little too much 👉👈🥺. Alsoo i finally learnt how to turn my asks into drafts the POWER I have now HAHAHAHAHA

Oikawa Tooru x f!Reader

Summary: He always had  gotten a little too overboard showing you how special you are, and more now, when you’re carrying his child

Genre: fluff, a lot of fluff, pregnant!Reader

Warnings: self-doubt ,a little suggestive maybe?, time skip spoilers 

WC~ 1,2K

Oikawa swung the door open, leaving his shoes outside and dropping his sports bag on the floor, but you didn’t hear it.

“Y/N, I’m home!” he says as a small yawn leaves his mouth. But there is no answer. The silence of the house makes Oikawa’s heart jump against his chest within seconds, “Y/N?”, he reaches for your shared bedroom and finds you sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on your mouth.

There are some clothes scattered around the floor and onto the bed and he notices you’re wearing one of his old Aoba Johsai’s shirts, displaying your bare legs.

You’re hand still covers your mouth, capturing the sobs while the other is placed on your swollen stomach. He kneels placing his hands on your knees, making you jolt, just then you realize your husband has gotten home.

“Love, what happened? Where does it hurt? Do you need me to call your doctor” you shake your head in embarrassment, and turn your face not wanting to be scanned by those chocolate eyes, “Y/N?”

“No…it’s not that”, when you finally face him, there is worry written all over his features and you can’t help to feel pitiful about the reason that had you in that state “It’s just…”

“Talk to me, love, please” he says softly before reaching your hand and placing a tender kiss on your knuckles for you to continue.

“It’s just – nothing fits me anymore!”, you squeak hiding your blush from him, Oikawa’s face softens, and he can’t help a relieved smile to curve on his lips.

You were almost 6 months pregnant, at first you didn’t mind the way your favorites t-shirts started to tightly wrap your body, but as the time passed you couldn’t help to feel some old insecurities blossom.

The way those perfect slim girls approached Oikawa after his matches as you waddled slowly towards him for the sake of your future child, made your confidence fragile.

So, as he was training, you decided to try some of the dresses and blouses that he once told you that looked beautiful on you. You can tell now how stupid that was. Trying on the clothes, made you feel only more troubled, but when your favorite dress couldn’t go over your hips and teared a little, that’s when you started sobbing uncontrollably.

He offered you several times to go to the pregnant woman section in stores, but you said none of them fit your style, making him roll his eyes and grin at your stubbornness.

“I’m too big for everything!” you blink when you hear Oikawa giggling softly, placing his hands on your stomach, leaning closely to it.

“Did you hear that? Your mom is stressing out because you’re growing strong and healthy” he looks at your round womb, stroking it lovingly, making you huff at him.

He stands up to cup your cheeks, kissing the tears that had fallen over them.

“Y/N, look at me, you are beautiful as ever.  You are carrying our love inside. Please, don’t  cry over that, love, when you look so gorgeous like this” he smiles at you before sitting behind you, he places his chin on your shoulder as his hands fall on top of yours over your tummy. You can’t help to smile a little. ‘Such a romantic’

“You’re lucky you’re good with words-” a soft laugh come out of your lips and you feel him smiling against your shoulder blade

“That’s the laugh I love! Now, would you FINALLY listen to me and go to the pregnancy sections? I saw I really nice dress the other day, you know?”

“okay” you say trough a little pout, causing Oikawa’s eyes to gleam as his airy laugh fills the room.

Feeling his hot breath on your neck never failed to make you gasp, you sigh, defeated. Oikawa Tooru always seemed to have a way to ease you, making your sobs stop and your heartbeat rise.

Suddenly he lightly bites and kisses the skin on your neck, stealing a whimper out of you before practically growling in your ear.

“As much as it turns me on to see you stretching my school T-shirt, beautiful. Sadly, I’m gonna have to ask to change so we can go”

You feel as if you were back in high school, getting flustered by the captain of Aoba Johsai. You close your eyes, grinning sillily at how lucky you were to have him with you.

///

You walk, holding onto his arm around the mall for a few minutes before entering in the first store.

“H-How does it look?”, Oikawa turns his head as he holds a bunch of different dresses and blouses for you to try on, his jaw slacks open when his eyes fall on you.

“You’re gorgeous” you look yourself in the mirror and slightly grin at the way the fabric envelopes your form, finally feeling confident again. Oikawa eagerly hands you the pile of clothes, earning a soft peck from you.

“Tooru, isn’t it too much?”

“For you nothing it’s too much, love. We have plenty of time”

“But you haven’t rest, tomorrow you still have practice and-“ his eyes soften as he places his finger on your lips

“It’s all about you now, we’ll worry about it later”

You have been walking for a few hours now and honestly his overwhelming eagerness was contagious. He asks you constantly if you’re tired or hungry, but you only feel excitement. You both just realizing how close you were to becoming parents.

After you left the last baby store, both of you have their hands full of bags. Still, Oikawa finds a way to hold onto yours as you walk with a wide smile. He stops on his tracks, making you turn to the side to look at him.

“Tooru, everything all right?” you ask him, quirking an eyebrow. He releases your hand to stroke gently your stomach, a pink blush spreading on your face.

“I love you so much, Y/N. God, I can’t wait to meet her!” he whispers before kissing your lips lovingly.

“W-We don’t know if is gonna be a girl yet, Tooru” you whisper, his forehead softly pressing against yours.

“I know but…I have a feeling”

And you had a feeling too, no, you were certain that Oikawa was going too be such a loving father, your child was never going to lack attention or support from him. And the thought of it, made your heart melt.

///

It’s really amusing, honestly, at least for you. How Iwaizumi’s tired face looks trough the screen as his two dorks friends keep taking out of a bag an infinitude of toys, clothes and baby implements.

“Iwa-chan, look. Matching T-shirts!”

“Oh! don’t forget the little alien plush” you say excitedly as Oikawa follows your hands to one of the bags with satisfaction.

“Where are those tiny shoes that looked like mine?” he starts peeking in every bag before Iwaizumi’s throbbing vein literally pops.

“Oi,Trashykawa! – sorry, Y/N – Do you realize that we have time difference, right? I thought this was im-“ Iwaizumi blinks multiple times troigh the screen as his ears turn bright red, making impossible for you to contain a giggle.

Oikawa waves in front of the screen a Godzilla plush matching with a green jumpsuit with patterns of the same gigantic lizard.

“I hate it here…what else did you buy?”

Two hours later Iwaizumi finds himself shipping to Argentina a bunch of other stuff including a mini Japan’s national team bodysuit, cursing Oikawa under his breath as he enters his payment method.

❀ Please reblog if you like it! ❀

UFF I have a thing for uncle IWA Thanks for reading ♡♡♡

↳ ∴ Master List ∴

[euphoricsunflowers]

threat or promise — lee minhyuk

request: hello is it okay if i ask for sub!minhyuk mx? i dont rlly have any thing specific to add to that im so sorry

a/n: it’s really sad but it’s also really cute but like also also horny like minhyuk is a big ass mess but it’s ok we still love him.

word count: 1.6k

content: sub!minhyuk, dom!fem!reader, angst!!, it’s only fem because pegging, pet play, puppy/owner dynamics, you guessed it more pet names because again i am s o f t, praise kink kinda

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiest @rosethefae @staranonthoughts @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting

you’re usually welcomed home with a sneak attack of kisses and hugs, along with minhyuk loudly ranting about something happening during his day, like how he gave a bird a tostito chip and it wouldn’t leave him alone or how his favorite drink was out so he had to get something else as he drags you to the couch so you could cuddle the night away.

today, though, you’re met with silence. your initial assumption of minhyuk being alseep is wrong: he’s in the living room, scrolling through his phone. he’s biting his lip, staring at the screen with an intense look, and you just can’t figure out what’s going through his head, “minnie?”

he jumps slightly, so you assume he didn’t notice you were there, but his reaction is less than sufficient to make you unsuspicious, “hey y/n.”

you sigh, setting your stuff down before sitting next to him on the couch, “come here, min,” you murmur. he barely can hold himself back for a few seconds before he gives in, falling into your arms, melting and molding against you, allowing you complete control to protect his heart, if just in that moment. it’s also not long before he starts letting out sobs that are so faint, you have to hold your breath if you’re trying to hear them. he uses your shirt to muffle his cries, and while you really don’t give a shit about the shirt, he’s worrying you, “minhyuk, talk to me baby, what do you need? do you wanna talk about it?”

he doesn’t say anything, but he hands his phone to you, which you take hesitantly. it’s off, so he’s not trying to show you anything, but he finally speaks up after a few moments of confusion, “take it away from me.”

“okay, baby, i’ll hold onto it for the time being,” you kissing the crown of his head while rubbing his back, hoping the affection will at least soothe him somewhat, “i’m not going to force you to talk about it, minnie, but if you want to talk to me, i’m here.”

he’s silent, so you take that as a sign he’s not going to talk. his arms are wrapped impossibly tight around you, as if holding on for dear life. his cheek is squished against your chest, and as much as it’s adorable, it’s so painful to see him like this. minhyuk was like the sun, just endlessly energetic and bright and he always had infinite love to give.

“y/n?” he whispers, taking you out of your thoughts.

“yes, baby?” you whisper back with another couple kisses, also running your fingers through his pale blond hair, “what’s on your mind, minnie?”

“they said i was annoying,” he murmurs, struggling to get the words out as he still cries, “they told me that i never shut up and they wish they could mute me sometimes. and usually i can handle it and just laugh it off, but today it was too much.”

it’s heartbreaking, really. minhyuk was such a kind person and yet this person, whoever they were, found it far too easy to hurt him, “thank you for telling me, min. that took a lot of strength. i—”

“am i annoying?” he cuts you off suddenly, but it only makes your heart crack a little bit more.

“of course you’re not, darling. you have so much life in you, you’re always making me laugh with your antics or making me smile with your work stories. i wouldn’t change a single thing about you, not ever,” you see him smile ever so slightly, and though it’s not enough to completely make his pain go away, his smile is a familiar sight that you’re so relieved to see.

“promise?”

“i pinky promise, min,” you hold him just as tight as he holds you, wishing you could take all his pain away.

“could you…” he murmurs softly, “could you distract me?”

“of course min, what do you wanna do? i can play a movie and get some popcorn or we could play a board game or go—”

“no, uhm, i meant something else,” he blushes, and you realize his legs had been wrapped around your left thigh for the entire time he’d been holding onto you, “i promise i’ll be good.”

“baby, you’re always good, what do you mean?” you ask softly, gently cupping his cheek with your hand. he leans into your touch, almost purring at the feeling.

“i promise, i promise i’ll be perfect for you, just please love me, please, i—”

“puppy,” you cut him off this time, because his words break your heart more and more by the second and it’s impossible to take. the nickname immediately changes his demeanor, evident by the fact his body tenses up. he looks up at you with his teary eyes, so you whisper to him, “are you sure you want to? i’d feel like i was taking advantage of you in this state if you’re not one hundred percent sure.”

“please, i’m sure,” he pleads, and you’ve never been one to deny him.

“does my puppy want his owner to fuck him?” you ask, and he nods quickly, desperately, and it makes you chuckle. he was so precious, “alright then, let’s move this to the bedroom.”

he follows behind you before lying down quietly on the bed. he’s silent the whole time you go through your dresser drawer for what you need, which is so unlike him that you turn to make sure he’s still there, and of course he is. he’s staring up at the ceiling vacantly, and you would do anything at this point to help the poor boy.

“strip for me, puppy,” you murmur, and he sits up to throw his shirt off and pull off his shorts and boxer. minhyuk’s never had a big build, always on the thinner side, but good god he looks so small with his shoulders hunched in like that, and it saddens you, “come here, pup, let me take care of you,” he crawls to the edge of the bed, head hung a bit low. you use a finger to lift his chin up, forcing him to look you in the eye, but it’s too much, “min, darling, let’s stop. you obviously—”

“please don’t, y/n, i really need this,” he begs, hands reaching out for you, needing to feel that you’re there, “i know you don’t like it when i’m sad, but i really need to be yours right now. please show me that i’m more than just an annoyance.”

“okay,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss. it’s so much softer than normal, each movement of yours is filled with love and adoration. you just hope he can feel it as much as you do. you pull back to whisper to him, “let me prep you.”

he nods, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt to pull you on top of him, “ruin me, please.”

you squeeze some lube onto your fingers, warming it up so he doesn’t have to feel the coldness, “i’ll break you into pieces and put you back together beautifully, pup,” he still jumps at the feeling of your fingers touching him, pressing one in gently. he sighs at the feeling, closing his eyes to just simply take it all in. after a few minutes, he’s groaning at the slight stretch when you add another finger, “does that feel good, my pretty puppy?”

“y-yeah,” he stutters adorably, “want you inside me,” though you’d usually make him beg a little bit, tonight would be different. tonight was all about him.

“alright puppy, sit tight for me,” you kiss his forehead as you pull your fingers out, “god, you’re so beautiful. beautiful and absolutely mine.”

he whines at your words, whispering, “yours.”

you press the strap-on against his rim, pushing in when he gives you the green light, “you’re an incredible human being, my minpuppy, you’re so kind, so loving, and so bright,” you murmur as he moans out softly as you slowly push in and out, keeping the pace slow, and yet he’s already lost in the pleasure, “and you’re so, so special. you’re the only one for me, god i never want to let you go. you’re so perfect for me.”

the praise makes him more and more weak and it adds to feeling building up in his stomach more and more each second, “o-oh, fuck, fuck—!”

“you sound so pretty, when you’re close too,” you mutter in between thrusts, “you could cum at any second, but you like waiting for permission, don’t you?”

“l-like making you— oh my god!— proud of me,” he barely gets out as he’s so close, he can feel it coming.

“then make me proud, puppy, cum for me,” you order, and he easily obeys, feeling the warmth wash over him. you watch the white ribbons collect all over his tense stomach as he breathes heavily. you hadn’t touched his cock up until now, but you make sure to jerk him off through his orgasm until he’s given all the cum he’s got. you pull out of him and he all but collapses from all the energy it took, “there you go, puppy, good boy. you’re such a good boy. here, let me go get a rag so i can clean you up—”

“no~,” he whines, “stay with me. i like being dirty for you.”

“keep talking like that and i’ll really ruin you, pup,” you smirk teasingly.

“is that a threat or a promise?” he asks with bright eyes, even though he knows the answer. him being at least somewhat back to his normal self makes this moment so precious.

“promise, puppy, it’s a promise.”

[skittles1229]

Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: Weird Circumstances

You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 

California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 

I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 

My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...

Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament

          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 

     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.

     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 

     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 

     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..

There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here

https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb

[sexyshakespeare]

LIFEGUARD AU, CH 1: CAPTAINS ON DUTY

/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi, Kozume Kenma, Oikawa Tooru/ /Small mentions: Hinata Shoyo, Bokuto Koutarou/ This was inspired by a really cute meme about the Haikyuu boys when someone is drowning- credit to op for making that! We absolutely loved it, and I had to start writing this AU cause- Kuroo, Daichi thirst strong  -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were both on duty today. He’d be thankful- having Sawamura on his team was definitely a load off his back.. but- “Oh fuck- another one- you want to get that or should I?”, Kuroo frowned as he saw them struggling to stay above the surface of water- right in the middle of the pool. He’d been watching them steadily swim to the middle.. and now they couldn’t swim anymore? It didn’t make any sense to him- but that was the nature of this job- absolutely no time to think. They had to rely on instinct and their rigorous training. And their good form of course. It was barely noon and they’d had twenty people almost drown- if Daichi or he weren’t in perfect shape, they’d have been too exhausted to move by now. “Man- I’ll take it..”, his voice sounded- tired. Kuroo smiled softly at him and patted his shoulder as he started to run with his board towards the pool- pool C this time. They were both on duty for two other pools- and it was a busy day. It really didn’t help that a lot of their friends had shown up today as well. It was a pool party of sorts- which Tetsurou and Daichi couldn’t join in on cause they were on duty. The rooster haired man sighed heavily and leaned against his chair, his eyes scanning the pools for anyone else who suddenly decided their legs had turned to lead at the deep end of the pool.. His eyes fell on a familiar, comfort inducing sight.. his pudding head. Kuroo smiled softly looking at him- he was sitting on one of the foldable chairs, squinting at his phone, his pretty hair falling over his face. He probably hated being here.. he knew he’d only come cause Kuroo was on duty. The man found himself smiling wider at the thought- he showed his support for him all the time, even if he didn’t quite have the words for it sometimes. Then Kenma looked up. What was he looking at.. well- it didn’t seem very interesting cause he saw the blond look back down into his phone and lean back into his chair. Kuroo looked a little to his left- his eyes bugging out when he saw him- WAS THAT OIKAWA?? HIS ARMS WERE FLAILING- DEAR fucking god- Where was Daichi?? Probably still at Pool C- he had to run. He barely had time to grab his floatation device before running towards the area. “TETSU CHAN!” ���WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING-“ “IM DROWNING OBVIOUSLY?” Kuroo squinted at him- he didn’t look like he was drowning.. he was tall enough to stand up at that depth. “JUST STAND UP-“ “I c AN T” He groaned a little and got into the pool- leaving the board outside. He swam towards the middle, putting his arms around him to pull him onto his own body- before tipping him very purposefully forward- it resulted in his legs definitely touching the ground- just his head above the water. Kuroo raised his brows at him. “Well- h a- I guess I forgot how?”, he said cheekily and winked at him. Why was he like this. “I ought to smack you-“ “Tetsu chan don’t be like that! I swear I just forgot..”, another grin from him- his hair sopping wet. He laughed at him a little and grabbed his chin- squeezing a little and splashing water on him. Oikawa joined in fast, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and laughing in his ear. He loved playing with him- but he seriously was at his job right now- Then Kuroo looked up then to see Kenma /glaring/. Oh wow.. “Kitty.. you okay?” No sound.. “He’s going to drown me for real..”, Tooru whispered in his ear before throwing a sheepish grin towards Kenma. Kuroo patted his chest a little and got out of the pool- his hair was wet too now, and had to be pushed out of the way. Oh- his shorts were wet as well- sticking to his thighs.. annoying. He picked up his floatation device and started walking back to his post- catching several eyes on him. M a n- did he feel awkward. Well- it was nice in a way, to get all that attention. He looked up a little and waved back to the group of girls waving at him- and of course he had to smile, it was only polite. The next thing he knew- Kenma was standing at the edge of the pool- tilting his head slightly as he looked down at the group of them.. a strange smile on his face- that wasn’t normal.. and that mad look in his eyes when he hacks the final level boss to pieces. “Kitty..?” “Hm?” “..you want a hug?” He nodded slightly and wordlessly put his arms around Kuroo- pushing his head into his bare chest, the drops of water not bothering him in the least. He still had that look in his eyes- and he was still looking at those poor girls.. who had definitely stopped giggling at the moment. Kenma’s smile grew impossibly wide- cutting through his face like a knife. He smiled a little and put his arms around him as well, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Kay- I gotta head back now.. you going to be fine?” The blond nodded slightly- though he was still very clearly giving them the stink eye. He had the strangest ways of showing affection.. and yet it made the man’s chest feel warm. Kuroo separated from him- at which point Kenma stood up on his toes to give him a little kiss. It was so obviously a display of /ownership/- he noticed, as he tilted his head in an uncharacteristically cocky way towards the group at the pool. Needless to say.. it got the lifeguard blushing a deep red. “Right- I’ll see you later.. eat something okay?”, he said quickly and walked away towards his station. Well, that was something.. Kuroo shook his head to get the feeling out of his head, as he came back to his post and saw Daichi there- p a n t i ng. “O II are you okay?? Drink this-“, he was immediately pushing the squeegee bottle with Gatorade in it towards the man. His eyes trailed down his wet body- his shorts outlining.. something. He blinked a little and looked away- eyes widening before he could stop himself. Daichi drank the Gatorade, chugging down quite a bit before leaning back against the table and groaning. “I had to fish out three people in under an hour- NOT including Hinata- and Bokuto-“ Kuroo laughed a little, wondering how those two had ended up in trouble already. “Dare I ask?” Daichi simply shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. “Hinata did a canon ball in the deepest part of Pool B- of course- and Bokuto just jumped right in to save his protégé-“ He frowned a little and huffed- looking adorable as he did. What a man.. Kuroo thought to himself- looking like an absolute hunk, and still managing to look cute. “Of course- I had to drag them both out as they flailed uncontrollably and gasped for air-“ Kuroo laughed heartily, throwing his head back. And that was when Daichi noticed his wet hair and body- his thighs looked painfully slick at the moment. He cleared his throat and looked away, smiling politely at the wooden post instead of looking the other man in the eye. “I had Oikawa pretend to drown just a while back so-“, he chuckled to himself, picking up a towel to wipe down his chest. “Don’t bother..”, Daichi suddenly found himself saying- his eyes fixed on the other’s glistening abs. “Huh?” “O h I mean- you’ll probably have to jump in after someone else in a few anyway-“ “AH right- but this chlorine can’t be good for my hair man..”, Kuroo said with a little pout and set to work drying his hair roughly- the bedhead returning to its previous glory. Sawamura sighed heavily and sat in his chair, shaking his head to himself. Just.. why /did/ they put them both on duty together- and on a Sunday? It seemed like the worst management decision anyone could take. Kuroo joined him, sitting down in his chair. His gold eyes sneaked a glance at his arms this time- tan and wet. He wasn’t complaining about it at all, clearly. “What-“ “You’re going to get sunburnt my man-“, he said with a confident smirk. Daichi hated that smirk. He hated it with a passion. Kuroo reached over to their desk, the sinews on his torso rippling slightly as he stretched. Daichi suddenly found himself frowning a t the man’s body- it had no right to be doing this. After some searching around in the drawer- the neko man returned with a tube of sunscreen, and passed it to Daichi. “Right- though I put some already-“ “Here let me- you seem exhausted-“, Kuroo frowned at him with concern. But his smirk just wouldn’t go away. Daichi didn’t trust that smirk. “My boyfriends will find you.. and hurt you- you know..” “O H my dear god- DAICHIII-“, he grinned at him, suddenly shaking with laughter. Kuroo loved doing this to him- it was definitely a pretend game he played- and it worked on Sawamura so well. “I just wanted to help a friend out! I don’t want you getting sunburnt..”, he smiled yet again- a little too wide. What was it about Daichi that made him want to be extra cheeky. The fact that he was such a serious man, maybe. It made him want to find the cracks- the very idea that he might one day fluster a man like this? Bliss. “Well then- make sure you cover every bit of you- I won’t look..”, Kuroo said yet again, with a grin. He was going to get kicked in the balls one of these days.. on one of these double shift days.. “You know- I’m glad you’re here-“, Daichi said suddenly- his smile polite and his eyes soft. T h a t took him by surprise. “AWW really! You like me that much?”, Kuroo put his hand over his heart as he blinked several times- batting his lashes.   “We need an idiot to handle all the idiots- I could never have gotten through the day without losing my mind..” “OIIII” It was Sawamura’s turn to laugh now, as he applied sunscreen on himself and watched the clock. “You want to grab lunch?” “Mhm- sounds good-“

[boseongkrp]

( the ex-lover, im changkyun, he/him ) — introducing KANG JUNKYU, the 22 year old FORENSIC SCIENTIST, known around boseong as THE EMOTIONAL BRUISER. the residents would describe him as exhausted sigh slipping past chapped lips, overheating lamp on desk, empty soju bottles, the warmth of a cozy and soft blanket.

now loading his interview....

PLEASE TELL US MORE ABOUT YOURSELF.

“about me… “ he repeats, voice low in tone and distant, his brown empty eyes glance at the table in front of him. junkyu doesn’t know if he really wants to speak about himself, he would much rather not speak at all, would much rather prefer to be back in the safety of his bedroom where those four walls were a barrier to the outside. “i’m kang junkyu, i was born on the 16th march 1998, which makes me twenty three years old.” there’s a pause, and he finds his hands clasping together, fiddling with his fingers. a habit, one that had grown after eunmi’s death, eventually calming down a couple of years after but now is back stronger than ever. it’s unsettling, really, having to talk about himself like he’s one considered doubtful. he hates the way the countless eyes are watching him, observing him like he’s hiding things. suspicious, he has no doubt it’s one thing they think of him as, but little do they know. it makes him want to scoff, to up and leave the room because fuck staying here. but he can’t, and as much as his anxiety is bubbling the longer the eyes bore into him, he refuses to show them it’s getting to him. no, he won’t give that satisfaction. “i work as a forensic scientist, have sort of done since i graduated.” it’s funny, isn’t it? he’s also has expandable knowledge on the police industry simply because of his curious nature, though not to the standards the curious presences surrounding him are, but who knows, maybe one day he would be on their level. he was determined, after all.

he chooses not to discuss things more personal to him, more deep things. like the way his heart is profoundly thumping against his chest, the way his hands already feel clammy within minutes into the interview. the way his throat feels dry and scratchy, the way he’s so tense that he partially feels like he could pass off as a statue - refuses to show that or make it known. instead, his eyes are empty, but if you look deep enough, you can see the anger, the sadness, frustration, confusion, you could see it all. but to those on the outside, kang junkyu just seems like a young adult, slightly lost in the world with a dark, heavy shadow hovering over him constantly. it’s like darkness all around, slowly embedding into everybody within the last five years and this darkness has been eating junkyu alive ever since. it’s a constant battle, an internal fight, and he refuses to lose.

unexpectedly, he glances up, eyes deterring from the table and straight into the officers eyes who sits opposite him. pauses, he chooses not to speak, instead just stares back. and then, he breaks away, averting his eyes towards the camera for a few long moments. he knows. junkyu knows what they’re trying to do. but he won’t indulge, no, he won’t.

“what do you really want to know?”

SO WHAT DO YOU THINK OF BOSEONG?

how is he meant to say that boseong feels like a deep, gaping black hole? it’s a town full of trouble, a void and he questions whether it would ever feel like a place he can call home. “well, i can think of a few other places where i’d like to be,” he nods along, naming a few places in his mind. “it’s a town full of darkness. small town, everyone knows each other pretty much, or has at least heard of each other. not really much privacy in a town like this, but maybe that’s more so the people here rather than the size.” it’s a partial dig, but it’s true. how different would boseong be if people were to mind their own business? would it be a nicer place? would.. things have been different? he can only sigh, because truthfully, even he himself doesn’t quite know what he thinks of boseong. “i’m use to it.” unfortunately, he thinks.

HAVE YOU EVER LEFT OR THOUGHT ABOUT LEAVING BOSEONG?

“who hasn’t?” junkyu answers, releasing a deep breath ever so slowly. of course he has, five years ago after everything, he wanted nothing more than to pack up and move away. he wanted to escape, to run away from everything, to distance himself from the pain and heartache. wanted to just, disappear. with all of the eyes watching him, staring at him - something he despised with an immense passion. start fresh, it was something he could only dream of, though something he knows he’ll never be able to do. not in boseong, and he knows that even moving to a different city wouldn’t make it all go away. impossible. hell, it’d be suspicious if he had, if he does. “not the happiest place here, is it?”

WERE YOU CLOSE WITH HA EUNMI? WHAT WAS YOUR IMPRESSION OF HER?

he knew this question was coming, he knew. yet, he couldn’t prepare himself enough. never would, and even the mention of her name causes him to force his eyes shut for a few moments. his heart hurts, and he just knows that the judging eyes watching him are watching twice as closely now. “yeah..” it’s a whisper, a pained one, as his eyes reopen he feels the stinging sensation. “she was my girlfriend-” the stinging gets worse, and he tries so hard to avoid letting any tears drop. “my ex, my ex girlfriend..” just another painful reminder, of all the memories, of everything that happened the months leading up to her death. “we were together for a while, she was my first and only relationship..” he really doesn’t want to sit there and discuss his relationship with eunmi, it feels invasive and there’s things that junkyu wants to keep to himself. because in boseong, everyone knows everyone’s business, and there’s things that he wishes to keep to himself, to keep private. “the last few months of our relationship, i started to notice she was,” junkyu pauses, hesitantly, and forces down the lump that sits in his throat. “she was acting different, more.. unlike herself. i noticed but.. i didn’t say anything. not until i kept hearing things, so i confronted her and.. she said she was being threatened.” can the interview be over now? it’s not like he hasn’t told them this all before, why does he have to repeat it all? why does he have to go through this all over again? “but with everything i kept hearing, i just- it frustrated me, and we started arguing, then one day we were arguing and i just..” his head bows down in shame, regret, because he wishes he had went about things differently. he failed her. “i broke up with her, out of anger. for a few weeks after, we didn’t speak at all, but we ended up getting paired for a project in class and we started talking again briefly.” 

grinding his teeth together, he recalls the night too perfectly. the last night. “we were doing okay, but still hadn’t thought or spoke about getting back together. a few days before she..” fuck. “she called me while i was studying, and when i answered she was like.. uncontrollable. frantic, almost, i could barely understand and i was so tired but i tried to calm her down, and she just wouldn’t. in the end, i ended up snapping at her.” the lump in his throat feels twice as big, and even trying to force it down is impossible. the scene replays in his head automatically, like it’s stuck on repeat and never ending. “that was the last time i spoke to her. and i regret it so much. she- she didn’t deserve this at all, even after everything that happened, i never once thought of her as a bad person.” of course, even with as much strength he was using to try and push the tears away, junkyu’s powerless, and his eyes fill with hot, fresh tears that he feels slide down his face, burning his skin. “she was beautiful. from the moment i saw her, she already had a piece of my heart. she was like.. the brightest star in the sky, there was just something about her that made her shine differently. she was a fresh personality, special. we.. were there for each other, throughout our relationship and even after we had broken up. although we weren’t together, if either of us could tell something was up, we’d remind each other. but, i did pretty shitty at that..” he forces a laugh like scoff. “i loved her.. i really did, i still do.” i could have done something, he scolds himself mentally. raises a hand to wipe away the tears that dampen his skin. “i don’t wanna talk about this anymore..” 

DO YOU HAVE A DARK SECRET THAT NO ONE KNOWS OF?

<   R E D A C T E D   >

[t-khalynn-tales]

Provoking Ire

Author’s Note: Originally started out as “Hey, lets write a really short, funny scene with Mei making rude gestures at people!”  

~Three thousand words later...~ __________

“Mei, ya sure ya wanna do this?” Tala handed Mei the practice weapon, frowning slightly. “ ‘Cause ‘m not sure…”

Mei nodded firmly, taking the weapon in hand. It was, essentially, a plank of stout oak, longer than she was tall, with a leather-wrapped handle meant for a two-handed grip. 

~Yah. T uses a sword too,~ she added, pointing to her cousin’s sword and shield, currently being guarded by a watchful blue chocobo. ~An’ T practice fights with tall folk, sometimes.~

“Well, yeah. But issa little different! I started learnin' years ago! But Mei has only been learnin' fer a little bit! Maybe gettin’ a few more lessons first would be better…?”

Mei shook her head, expression confident. ~Is fine. Mei wants ta learn like this, Mei learns best like this.~ Shifting her grip a moment, she made a fist with her right hand, and pressed it into her own chest, near her heart. ~T can trust Mei, ok?~

Tala just sighed. “Alright.”

“Yo! You popotoes done dithering yet?” the big Hyur called out, shifting from foot to foot, his own oversized practice blade resting on his shoulder. “I’m a busy man, so if you’re just gonna chicken out, just gimme the gil now so I can get a drink somewhere.”

Both lalas turned towards the speaker. Tala just grimaced in exasperation, while Mei’s eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Is only NOON!” Tala protested with a huff.

The young mercenary laughed. “Yeah, so? In case ya hadn’t noticed, shorty, Gyr Abania is hot. It’s always a good time for a drink.”

The lala just shook her head and turned back to Mei. “Anyroad. Okay, so remember ta watch how he moves. He’s got th’ longer reach, so ya hafta be quicker ‘n ‘im. ‘Specially since ya only got a big wooden stick ta attack an’ defend with.”

~Duh,~ the younger lala scoffed, still focussed more on the cocky mercenary than the advice.

“Hey, is not MY fault ya chose th’ big giant sword ta learn. Issa different kinda sword fightin than mine, so ‘m not able ta help ya wi’ that. But fer basic fightin things, yeah.”

Finally noticing the cause of Mei’s distraction, Tala flicked her cousin’s forehead. Hard. 

Mei rubbed at the new bruise. ~Ow.~

“Focus, Mei!”

~Fine,~ she pouted.

“So, one part of fightin I learned from Kori is stuff like this. Sometimes when people are fightin', they can do an’ say dumb things. Like, ta break yer focus, an’ put ya on yer back foot. Kori says, easiest way fer them ta do that, is ta make ya mad. Like, callin lalas popotoes an’ stuff. So dun let ‘im trick ya inta anger, okay?"

The other lala nodded.

“An’ dun forget, YOU can use th’ same trick on ‘im, too. So, like, Kori likes ta shout mean things at ‘em. Callin’ ‘em names, tellin ‘em ta stuff their, uh, stuff inta their own backsides, ‘n things.”

Mei raised an eyebrow. ~Oh? So how ‘bout T? What does T do?~

Tala flushed slightly. “Umm… well… a-anyroad. Even if ya can’t yell at ‘im,’m sure ya can come up wi’ somethin.”

After a moment, the younger lala just grinned wickedly.

“Yo, seriously! Any time now?”

Recognizing her cousin’s mischievous expression, Tala sighed. “Just dun make ‘im TOO mad, okay? I’d hate ta get run outta town fer bustin' 'is face wi’ my shield.”

The man scoffed. “I’d like to see ya try it, shorty!”

~No promises,~ Mei retorted, gripping the practice blade in both hands as she turned to face her current "tutor."

“FI-nally! Alright, pipsqueak, let’s get started…”

___________

The sounds of heavy clashing wood filled the air of the small sparring yard.

It was stupid. The whole thing was just dumb. Starting with a pair of novices, sizing each other up at the small town's only training dummy. Some unsolicited criticism first, then some rude gestures and snippy commentary in return, dutifully translated by a reluctant Tala. And now this -- a "friendly" challenge and wager.

Tala was clearly against it, but could only watch anxiously from the sidelines. 

So far, Mei was doing remarkably well at holding her own, despite the fresh welts and bruises both combatants were now sporting. It seemed Mei did learn quickly when thrown into the fire. Especially since her opponent was a little impatient. And not used to facing opponents so much shorter than himself.

Mei was also exceptionally good at taking advantage of that. And at being a brat about it.

The lala ducked under a wide slash, then managed to counter with an upward swing that seemed almost impossible with such a large sword. The Hyur jumped back, but not quick enough -- the blunted wooden tip managed to clip him. He fell back with a curse, clutching his left forearm.

But Mei quickly stepped forward in pursuit, switching her grip and leaping up to deliver an overhead strike. The man barely managed to adjust his own practice blade to block, grunting at the force of the blow. A little unnerved, pulled back again, blade ready to guard.

“Shit!” he spat, tensing his arm, the pain still pulsing like a jagged flame, flaring to the beat of his own heart. “What the hell!”

Mei smirked and relaxed her stance, settling her sword against her shoulder and beckoning with one hand. The insult needed no translation.

~Bring it.~

His eyes narrowed. “You’re a spicy little popoto, ain’t ya,” he sneered in response, grip tightening in anger. “Looks like I’ll have ta stomp ya back into the dirt a bit!”

Both lalas blinked in momentary confusion, trying to make any kind of sense of that. But when the man charged forward with a roar, Mei set herself for another clash.

He attempted an overhead strike of his own, intending to smack the uppity lala on the head in retribution. But Mei angled her blade to deflect most of the power of the swing and side-stepped, letting his own momentum continue to carry him forward. As his sword made contact with the dirt, she managed to spin around, slapping his butt with the flat of her own weapon. With a yelp of surprise, he lost his balance and fell.

Face first. 

He lay there for a moment in stunned silence, before scrambling to his feet again.

“You little…”

Suddenly, the energy in the air shifted. Like an abrupt drop in temperature, or a sudden shadow obscuring the sun. Where before there was an atmosphere of begrudging parity and competition, now there was an invisible miasma of sheer malice.

And for just a moment, it seemed the tall Hyur’s eyes glowed an inhuman red…

He lunged forward, much quicker than before. Mei managed to barely block the first wild blow, but couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the second. Or the third. With a gasp, the wooden blade fell from her hands, pain resonating through her arm.

The fourth blow hit her in the stomach driving her to her knees, gasping for air. Wincing, she just barely managed to duck and roll out of the way from the fifth strike. She crouched to get back to her feet, only to be met with a boot to the face. Mei flew back, landing on her back with a dull thud in a small cloud of dust.

“Got anything else, runt?” she heard him growl menacingly. Blinking, Mei made out the blurry dark shape looming over her. Belligerently, she replied with a bloody smirk -- and a single shaking middle finger.

“You little…” the dark shape raised his oversized blade up high…

...and winced when a heavy coin pouch struck him in the face.

“THA’S ENOUGH! Ya won yer stupid bet, now take yer coin an’ BACK OFF!” Tala yelled, brandishing a make-shift broken broomstick handle. “Or ya really WILL get a shield ta th’ face!”

"Yeah? How ya gonna reach that high, shorty? Stepladder?"

"Nah, 'm just go gonna kick ya inna crotch ta bring yer ugly arse-face closer. Might need a jeweler's loup ta find yer itty bitty manhood, though."

"...what…?"

"Jeweler's loup? Ya know, th' thing goldsmiths use fer lookin at really small stuff? Spirits, are ya stupid too, an’ nae just ugly? ‘M feeling sorry fer yer Mum."

“Shut up, or I’ll show you ugly,” he snarled, stalking towards the shorter lala -- and subsequently away from the one laying prone on the ground.

“Ya dun gotta get closer, yer ugly face is PLENTY UGLY e’en from REALLY FAR ‘WAY!”

Mei wanted to keep watching, but her eyes were just... so... heavy. The last thing she saw was the Hyur charging her cousin’s much-smaller form in the distance. 

Then darkness enfolded her in its soft embrace, and consciousness faded away.

__________

There was something loud going on. Mei wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was loud. And annoying. And she was tired. Really tired. She just wanted to sleep a little more.

But as the noise went on and on and on, she realized that, as tired as she was, she wasn’t going to get that sleep right now. And that she was also not very comfortable right now. The floor was too hard, too dusty, and too hot. And something feathery hovering over her, cooing softly but insistently in her ear. Reluctantly, she managed to open her eyes, frowning against both the brightness of the sun, and at the pain echoing through her body. 

She groaned silently as she tried to sit up. A blue feathered head helped support her.

“Kweh!” the chocobo scolded her softly, even as she felt healing energies continuing to flow from him into her battered face, easing some of the pain. Mei recognized Stalwart, her cousin’s blue chocobo companion, and gave him a little pat in thanks. She then turned her bleary attention to the source of all the yelling.

If she could, she would have laughed.

The big Hyur, the one she had been sparring with, lay in a heap nearby -- face clearly bruised and a little bloody. His nose was obviously very broken, and he may have lost a tooth or two. A healer in robes seemed to be tending his wounds. Another man, a Hyur, older and somewhat resembling the one bemoaning his smashed face, was standing over Tala, hands on his hips, yelling angrily.

Tala just glared back up at him defiantly, arms crossed. Despite one swollen eye, she was clearly unrepentant.

And finally, an armored miquo’te stood somewhat between them both, tail twitching ever-so-slightly. The manner of his stance and the state of his armor indicated he held some level of rank, as well as respect, in the small settlement.

“So,” the first man sneered. “What yer saying is, young Stefan here beat the little brat there in a spar, so YOU beat him up? Yourself?”

“No,” Tala corrected. “He baited her inta a wager. One he knew he’d win. Prolly ‘cause ‘es a lot bigger ‘n her, an’ also ‘cause he has more trainin’ too. But she managed ta get th’ drop on ‘im. He got ‘is feelins hurt, so got mad an’ beat her near ta unconscious. I tole ‘im ta take ‘is winnings an’ go, but he was gonna hit her again. THAT’S why I stepped in. Wouldnae been needed, if he hadnae got so mad an’ stupid.”

“Riiiiight. Short little runt like you managed to beat my boy Stefan with a broom handle.”

“Nope. Broom handle was mostly fer distraction. I just kicked ‘im inna crotch, then bashed ‘im inna face wi’ my shield,” she gestured to the round shield at her back with a thumb. “I e’en tole ‘im I was gonna do it, afore I did. Isnae my fault he didnae listen.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Khalynn, but the battering to his face wasn’t caused by just one hit,” the healer spoke up, continuing her healing duties.

The miquo’te looked at the lala inquisitively.

“Oh, yeah,” she shrugged. “He kept gettin back up an’ chargin in, so I had ta bash him inna face a few more times. Again, isnae my fault he's stupid. Oh, an’ ya might wanna get some ice fer ‘is crotch, too. I mighta stepped on ‘im a bit.”

Both men winced slightly, but the miquo’te’s lips twitched upward in hidden amusement.

“My boy has been training for over a year!” the man yelled. “He’s a good recruit, shows good promise with the greatsword! There’s no way…”

“Your boy,” Tala cut in sharply, “is undisciplined an’ too easily provoked. Also maybe a bit unscrupuled, ta be settin’ up wagers wi’ beginners, yeah? So maybe ya should teach ‘im better.”

“And who are YOU to lecture me, runt?”

“Miss Khalynn is recognized as a free paladin,” the miquo'te noted dryly. “She was also a volunteer in the healer’s division of the Twin Adders. And now she leads a small but honorable free company.”

The lala in question coughed, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“HAH! THIS runt? A paladin?”

Tala huffed, blue eyes glinting. “If ya want, I can bash YER face in wi’ my shield, too.”

“That’s enough, Dorian,” the miquo’te stated firmly. “Upon my honor, I assure you Miss Khalynn is indeed a free paladin. Unless you doubt me?”

The man immediately backed off. “No, of course not, Rakhal. You’re a man of yer word, and all. But, still, how…?”

“What, did you never witness Pipin Tarupin fight on the Bloodsands? Size does not count for everything.” Rakhal shook his head. “Now, back to the matter at hand. Miss Khalynn, do you swear to your earlier statement?”

Straightening, Tala nodded. “Aye, is truth. I give ya my word, upon my honor.”

The miquo’te nodded as well, then turned to the healer. “And Lucinne, what say you?”

The elezen woman looked up. “Well, the story plays out with what I witnessed when I got here. THIS one,” she poked her now bandaged patient, “was getting the snot beat out of him by Miss Khalynn. While THAT one, “she points to Mei, the lala in red being propped up by a blue chocobo “was laid out on the ground, with a boot print across her face. Her nose was smashed in, badly. Also there was deep bruising of her abdomen, and several nasty welts on her arms and face. Had to do a little conjury to heal her up a bit, but switched over to THIS one once Miss Khalynn was done with him.”

“Why didn’t ya heal my nose?” the young merc whined, gently nursing his bandaged nose.

The healer just snorted. “Because you’re a bully and an ass, Stefan. And it was about time someone put you in your place.”

“Now look here...” the bigger Hyur started angrily.

“No, YOU listen here!” Lucinne replied, just as hotly. “I’ve been out here in Gyr Albania since the breeching of Baelsar’s Wall. I’ve seen plenty of folk from all sorts of free companies pass through these lands. Some looking to help out restoring and reclaiming the land. Some looking to earn a quick gil. I know a thing or two about people. And Dorian, your boy is a bully. Like Miss Khalynn said, teach him better!” 

With an angry huff, the healer gathered her things and left.

“Well then, I guess that settles things, then,” Rakhal decided. “Unless, of course, you have any further objections, Dorian?”

The big man mumbled something under his breath, but shook his head.

“What about my winnings?” Stefan whined.

At that the big man growled and hauled the injured young man to his feet by the collar, “Shut yer face, boy! If you think you’re good enough ta be showing off your blade skills, we’ll just have ta put ya to the test, right? Be ready fer more training tomorrow! At dawn!”

The two lalas and one miquo’te watched the big man drag the younger one away.

“I almost feel sorry for the kid,” he noted.

~Mei doesn’t!~

Tala laughed, earning a puzzled look from the armored warrior. She shook her head. “Issa bit long ta ‘xplain, Kal. But this is my cousin, Mei.” 

He bowed politely. “A pleasure, Miss Mei. I am Rakhal'sae Moui, a free paladin like Miss Khalynn here. In fact, I trained with her for a time.”

Assisted by Stalwart, Mei had come closer to the chatting pair, and nodded back. The chocobo had healed most of her wounds by now, and she only had a slight headache. Nothing a good night’s rest and a good meal wouldn’t fix up. She nodded at the paladin politely, then glanced at her cousin to translate.

“Kal!” the other lala protested. “Ya know is just Tala. Dun start th’ ‘Miss Khalynn’ stuff again! An’ Mei says, ‘Is nice ta meetcha, too’ ”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Um, she can’t talk. But I can understand her. Kinda.”

“This sounds like an interesting story. Maybe you can share it over a nice meal?” he held up the pouch of gil that had been all but forgotten in the scramble. 

Surprising everyone, Stalwart nimbly snatched it out of his hand. He prodded Mei gently until she extended an open palm, then plopped the pouch into her grasp.

“Well, guess Stal agrees,” Tala chuckled. “Lead th’ way, Kal.”

As they followed along, Tala turned to her cousin. “So, didya learn anythin’ from that mess?”

Mei smirked. ~Yah. T is REALLY good at makin’ insults.~ 

__________

A.N. 2: So originally, the plan was for Mei to be a Black Mage for DPS, with Dark Knight as a tanking job on the side, showing how Tala and Mei are kind of opposites -- White Mage to Black Mage, and Paladin to Dark Knight.

However, game-play wise, I rediscovered that I am in fact BAD at Black Mage, and DRK tanking just… didn’t feel right for me as a player somehow.

Luckily with Stormblood came Red Mage, a DPS class I was much more suited for. And with Shadowbringers, Mei was able to finally find a tank class that works - Gunbreaker. It’s been a lot of fun so far.

(And, thematically, having both Tala and Mei become primarily RDMs changed the focus on the cousins as well, but anyway…)

So in this story, which takes place a little bit after the close of “Greetings and Farewells,” Mei is trying to learn how to Dark Knight. Or at least, how to use the giant two-handed sword taller than she is. I know that the skills for the job have changed, and I’m no longer sure if Provoke was a thing for DRKs way back then, but I’m going with it anyway.

Also, to clarify - Mei is mute, but has the ability to "speak" with Tala telepathically. And like with spoken words, Mei can also convey a lot of emotions through the tone of these silent communications. Tala can sometimes project some emotions back through their link, but cannot manage to convey actual words.

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 16

in which murphy nearly cries AGAIN over this fic AGAIN

Cinder didn't say anything. She returned that searching look, like she was wanting something too, like she believed Glynda held some key for her own soul.

HELP ME PLEASE GOD HELP

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE I BEG OF YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i GUESS WE HAVE THIS CHAPTER TOO. I GUESS. OH MY GOD. IM GONNA SCREAM.

we’re opening with florence + the machine lyrics and i LOVE me some florence which is the only thing helping me cope rn but HERE WE GO. WE JUST HAD PAIN. NOW IT’S TIME FOR. MORE, PROBABLY.

The room was cast in filtered blues that seemed to drown all other color, an abyss of night that stole the reds of Cinder’s dress, smothering her in wine-violet.

i once made an offal hunt bingo card that i should have been using the entire time (whoops) but add ‘colour theory’ to it somewhere. and also because i see violet i see glyndas colour am i onto smthng here,

ALSO:

She hadn't said a word beyond what was strictly necessary through the entire ride up to her little apartment.

glynda... have u been invited into a lady’s apartment,,,,,,,,, GLYN,,,,,,,,,, HAVE U PULLED,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, G L Y N D

The lights reflected in her eyes in discs, like screens, like cat’s eyes—shockingly yellow in all the somber blue.

OH

FUCK YEAH

FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT’S GLOWY EYES HOURS FUCK YEEEEEEEEEEEEAH

i have been WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT for like FOREVER oooooooh my god yes. YES. cinder yr PRETTY EYES. i love her. did i mention that. because i do,

Glynda had heard of Faunus taking blades to themselves, to try and hide their features and escape the ever-present eye of human oppression. To cut away ears and horns and tails, shearing parts of their own bodies in a desperate break for freedom.

i want to say something thats VERY 👈😢👈 because i. hrm. dont worry abt it. im filing it away. like glynda is. but in a sadder context.

‘whats sadder than this?’

dont ask,

That couldn’t happen. Glynda didn’t want that to happen. No matter the risk. No matter how Cinder would lash out.

OUGH,,, glynda if u start 2 care then cinder will start 2 care and thats a one way ticket on the pain train to gaytown. i, for one, am thrilled,

The response on Glynda’s tongue withered as Cinder, with little fanfare, lifted her dress over her head and laid it haphazardly across the dresser. When Cinder turned back around, the faint sliver of light found purchase in the thin chain around her neck and the jade pendant laid against her bare chest.

OH

OH SHIT

/crashing sounds

MA’AM,

im having to take a minute just give me a minute please give me a m in u te

It was impossible to tell whether Cinder noticed her sliding out to the left of her own body.

glynda, but slightly to the left,

HONESTLY ME TOO!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO??????????????????? MA’AM

this bed sharing is the straw thats gonna break the murphy’s back. this is it. im gonna die.

Mindfully slow in the darkness, Glynda walked to the other side of the bed, folded her glasses onto the nightstand, and slid under the covers next to Cinder. A small space existed between them. Glynda’s heart thumped in her chest as she tried to discern even the slightest motion from Cinder at her back. Proximity made her dizzy with warmth.

im not even able to comment on like specific instances because im as LOST AS GLYNDA IS RN,,,, WHAT,,,, HELLO?????????????? GLYNDA. THEYRE

THE BED

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Glynda jostled her shoulder. “Are you awake? Cinder?”

“You’re not giving me much of a choice,” Cinder said, unmoving.

og offal hunt COULD never DID never WOULD never i am absolutely going fucking ape shitt crazy feral rn. holy shit. holy shit. lads. the bed. the bed. theyre in the bed. you. whats going on.

“I know,” Glynda agreed. “You’re kind of a menace.”

Cinder was silent. In hindsight, that hadn’t come out as encouragingly as Glynda meant.

hsdjgfsgdf if this is what its like when these two are. semi-enemies. can u imagine what it’ll be like when theyre dating

(i can)

“If I showed up on Sienna Khan’s doorstep with an army behind me, she’d demand to know what took me so long to come home.” Cinder’s eyes were burning coals lodged in the sockets of her shadowed, furious face. “Fuck her. Fuck all of them.” She paused only for breath. “It’s been years—decades—and they still think—”

GOD. THE LORE!!!!!!!!!!! i am SO interested in cinders backstory and this version is rly just going wild. going hoggie wild on this shit. what the hell happened. why did it happen????????? whats going on?????? CINDER... TELL US MORE...

She was furious, like a cornered and wounded Grimm; furious, and hungry for violence.

👈😔👈

“If there is, bring me with you.”

“You?”

“Yeah.”

this is some poetic cinema. this is some soft and tender shit. i want to cry. why is this SO good.

Something small and charmed crawled out of the hollow of Cinder’s expression: the flicker of a smile, for just a moment. She said softly, “We weren’t all born with ancient souls, Glynda. Some of us were lucky to be born at all.”

👈👈👈😭😔😞👈👈👈

this is so soft. im absolutely dying. im going to die. take me out.

It must have been the room, or the night, or air, or—something—that made Glynda admit, “I wish—that I felt that way.” At the expectant silence that followed, Glynda swallowed and continued, “Not—not with the White Fang. Just… I wish that it felt like everything had been leading to something. That everything in my life was worth it.”

Cinder was very quiet.

I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING. DIESEL. KC. I WILL PERSONALLY BURN DOWN YOUR HOUSES OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

oh this sucks SO MUCH MORE when you KNOW THINGS(tm) ABOUT THINGS and ooooooooooooooooh my god im literally gonna fuckin die oh my GOD STOP!!!! STOP I HATE IT

It was like swallowing water and holding it in her lungs. She hated how it hurt. But she would rather that than drive Cinder away. She would rather anything than be alone right now.

the good news: this edition of offal hunt is so much more potent abt everything. EVERYTHING feels more vibrant and more real and more interesting and more... everything. and its GREAT i adore it

the bad news: im fucking sobbing

“Ten,” Glynda said. “I enrolled at Beacon when I was twelve.”

okay this is still a very sad moment but also can you fucking imagine rolling up to class at 17 and seeing a literal 12 year old look you in the eye and go ‘you know i can tutor you if you need extra help’. id be fucking livid. who is this square,

Instead, Cinder dared nearer, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind Glynda’s ear. It was an oddly comforting gesture, coming from her. Glynda’s heart stalled in her chest and Cinder, ignoring it, said, “I know it meant a lot to you. That he meant a lot to you.”

me, pointing: this is it ladies and gents and beans. this is it. cinder’s gone and done it now. i can feel it on the wind. here it is. there it goes.

“What is your destiny?” Glynda asked, feeling bolder than before.

The fingers brushing hair behind Glynda’s ear stalled. Cinder’s palm laid warm against Glynda’s high, sharp cheekbone. Something stuttered and then leapt between them, and Glynda’s face went hot when Cinder whispered, “You.”

“Me?”

“We were born in the same year. You couldn’t have known that—that we’re the same age.” Cinder paused and withdrew her hand, tucking it against her own chest. “But my mother felt it. I always knew.”

Glynda didn’t begin to know how to respond.

“We were born in the same year,” Cinder repeated, almost as if to remind herself, like swearing an oath. “We’ve always been each other’s destiny.”

“I always thought it was my destiny to die,” Glynda finally admitted. “Just like my mothers.”

“No,” Cinder said, distantly. “No, it isn’t.”

okay its bad form to grab SUCH a huge section to like bring attention to it but this is. so much. not just from a fucking offal veteran perspective but SO much more too. like this section is just IT its the CORE of the THING!!!!!! and i wish i could go into why hooooooooooooly shit this bit is just. It(tm) but thats a spoiler so i will settle for this

👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈😭😭😭😭😭😭😔😔😔😔😞😞😞😢😢😢😢😢😨😨😨😨👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈

cinder’s last line? has me on the FLOOR. THE FLOOR.

When Glynda asked Cinder what her destiny was, Cinder had said you.  

The echo of it was butterflies in Glynda’s stomach.

im losing it. ima bsolutely beside myself

An unfamiliar tension lined Glynda, one she couldn't name or place or recognize. It choked up her throat and clogged her lungs with some unfathomable longing, but for what, she could not place. She looked at Cinder, studying every part of her face, and knew she was studied in turn; Cinder’s lips parted slightly as if she was about to speak, but she said nothing in the end.

But even without speaking, Glynda felt like she’d found an answer to a question she hadn’t had the courage to ask.

OOF. GOD. IM. AH. SHIT. C H R I S T.

i know that this is. [redacted]. and things. and that this is gonna turn into a chapter i look back on and WINCE at when [redacted] and [spoilers] happen but ooooooooooh my goooooooooooooooooood im dying. im outtie. goodbye. rip. fuck me.

[merciful-mercenary]

Raindrops

Cover art and story idea by @ask-mr-luxembourg​, dedicated for @gedurfde-fortuin

Ship: Netherlands/Luxembourg Rating: T Themes: Fluff, nostalgia, light angst Summary: A quick meeting for coffee makes everything better, though being able to see each other on a rainy afternoon already made for a perfect day.

Click on the cover above or here to read on ao3, or ‘Keep Reading’ to read on tumblr!

(Please do not repost or remove this caption)

Jean-Claude (Jang) - Luxembourg, Abel - Netherlands, Lea - Belgium

Rain tapped on the window outside in a lazy pattern. Claude had given up trying to tap along and instead preoccupied himself with petting Abel’s bunny Nijntje, who seemed to think his lap was the most comfortable spot in the house. Nevermind the plush beds and blankets for burrowing that Abel had scattered around the cozy Amsterdam house for her. No, the most comfortable spot was clearly Claude’s lap, with her head tucked behind his jacket. Not that Claude minded of course. She didn’t shed much, and it gave him something to focus on while he waited for Abel to come back with the coffee he had invited Claude over for in the first place.

Claude would have offered to meet at one of the coffee shops around Amsterdam, but it was much better to stay at home when it was raining like this. Besides, nobody made coffee as well as Abel, or at least not to Claude. There weren’t many shops that he could enjoy a warm cup of coffee while a bunny cuddled in his lap either.

Abel finally returned with two mugs in his hands. He sat down next to Claude and handed a mug to him before looking down at his bunny. “Traitor,” he accused.

“Ha, she missed me I guess,” Claude said with a light smile as he gave the bunny a pat. The bunny nudged her way deeper under his cardigan in response. and Abel scoffed.

“Maybe if you came over more she wouldn’t miss you so much,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee.

Claude sighed and glanced back out the window at the sight of Amsterdam and the canal right outside the tall, thin building. The view may have seemed dreary to anyone else, but there were few places he would rather see when he looked out of a window. It was relaxed that day, pedestrians and cyclists occasionally passing by through the raindrops stuck on the long window. Claude couldn’t help but note with a bit of amusement that the building was similar to its resident, though Abel was far from thin like the building was.

“I would love to,” he mumbled, “but you know how work is.”

Abel hummed in thought, and Claude noticed the corners of his mouth quirk up. “You could live with me again.”

“I wish it was so easy.”

“It wasn’t that bad living alone with me.”

Claude looked down into his mug with a slight frown.  “It was hard without Léa.”

Abel gave a solemn nod. “I know,” he muttered. “But you know what would have happened if you two stayed together.”

Claude gave a noncommittal hum in reply as he took a sip of his coffee. He almost jumped in surprise at the light touch that brushed over his arm.

“Does your arm still hurt?” Abel asked.

Claude felt his chest warm at the question. It was nice to be cared about, especially over something anyone else would consider too insignificant to note or remember. “…No,” he mused. “I forget that scar is there, sometimes.”

Abel gave a small hum in thought and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Remember when you tried baking for me and you spilled the flour all over yourself?”

“I told you, a mouse startled me. I could lift the bag just fine with one arm.”

“I still find flour in the cracks.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Tell the flour that.”

Claude chuckled and carefully shifted to lean against Abel, thankful when Nijntje didn’t seem to notice the movement. He gave a small sigh of content as he continued to drink his coffee in silence. His eyes widened when Abel shifted and a heavy hand rested on his head to give his hair a light ruffle.

“I’m glad you’re still here with us, little brother,” Abel mumbled.

The fuzzy warmth in Claude’s lap was nice, but it couldn’t compare to the warmth that spread through his body as his heart skipped at the kind words and the faint smile on Abel’s face. Claude took a long drink of his coffee in an attempt to hide his flustered smile, his eyes darting to the side. Abel showing him affection when they were alone like this wasn’t anything particularly new, but it still managed to surprise him every time.

“I’m glad too,” he finally admitted. He looked down at the brown and white bunny in his lap. “Someone has to give attention to Nijntje after all, since you clearly do not.”

Abel scoffed. “I give her attention,” he defended.

“Do you? I would not have known.”

Abel frowned and purposefully scooted away on the couch, and Claude pouted. He wanted to follow to keep leaning against him, but he knew there was no way to move that much without disturbing Nijntje.

“Now you aren’t giving me attention either? You’re so cruel big brother,” he whined.

“You’re the one that spilled flour all over my kitchen.”

“I told you I was sorry! Besides, we had fun baking after that didn’t we?”

Abel paused and glanced away with a sigh. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Even if you made a mess of my kitchen. I was happy you were done brooding.”

“I wasn’t brooding.”

“You refused to come out of your room for a month unless you had to eat.”

“I was sick. Getting my arm cut off was tiring, you know.”

“I had to drag you out more than once. You would hardly talk to me or look at me.”

Claude fell quiet and stared down at his coffee for several tense moments. “Léa always was such a happy presence around,” he mused. “It was obvious when she was gone. Painfully so.”

Abel gave a slight nod. “The house was much more quiet, with her gone and you brooding—”

“I was not brooding.”

“With you brooding, it was quiet.”

“I do appreciate you looking after me during that time. While I was sick,” Claude sighed. “I know you didn’t take it well either.”

Abel rolled his eyes and moved closer again to pat Claude’s shoulder. “At least you were still there. I was proud of Léa for being her own country.”

“I had to get independence too, eventually.”

“It was the only thing you would talk about,” Abel grunted. “I would ask you how you felt and you would tell me you wanted independence, or that you wanted to see Léa.”

Claude couldn’t help but laugh softly at the memory. He looked down when Nijntje shifted, and she squirmed out from under his cardigan to hop down onto the couch. She gave a small thump with her back legs, and Abel sighed and set his mug down to gently scoop her up to set her on the floor.

“That’s how she says she wants down,” he explained as the bunny hopped off.

“She’s smart,” Claude noted. “Pelutze is big enough, she can climb up and down from the couch without any problems.” He realized that he was now free to move, and instantly moved over to lean against Abel again as he drank more of his coffee as the rain tapped harder against the window.

Claude nearly choked on the last of his coffee when Abel’s arm wound around his waist and a soft kiss was pressed to the side of his head.

“I’m glad you could make it today, Jang,” Abel murmured. Claude wondered which was louder, the rain pelting the window or the way his heart hammered against his chest. He wasn’t expecting the Dutchman to speak Luxembourgish, even if it was only his name. He turned his head to catch Abel’s lips in a quick kiss, the brief taste of coffee shared between them. He couldn’t help but smile at the fluster written on Abel’s face, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

“Yeah, I am too.”

[taeyongluvs-blog]

Trouble

SUMMARY: Everybody knew Na Jaemin was trouble. Even his parents knew that was why he was sent to a school for delinquent in the country side. Enter you, a naïve born and raised country girl who believed that everyone had a sliver of good in their heart until you met Jaemin.

GENRE: Angst

PAIRING: Jaemin and Reader

NOTE(S): This is going to be a tough one to write since Na Jaemin is an actual angel sent by the heavens in this world and by no means like his character in this story. There will be mentions of underage drinking, smoking, drug use and abuse in this story so please if you are sensitive to those topics then I highly suggest you do not proceed. Thank you!

The rain was pouring heavily just as you were on your way home from a volunteer work at the local daycare of your town. Fortunately, you brought an umbrella with you but it wasn’t that much of a help since your clothes were still getting soaked by the harsh wind that accompanied the rain. It was always like this in your hometown, Yeodo. When it rained, it rained heavily and when it was sunny, the heat was almost unbearable. You were used to it, though, since you were born and raised in Yeodo.

Yeodo was a small island with about three hundred residents mostly elderly. The main source of income for many household was through farming and fishing. Yeodo was mostly known to many as that—a small island with farming and fishing as the main source of income but not a lot know that Yeodo was also the place where local governments from Seoul, Busan, Daegu and other major cities of the country send teenage delinquents for rehabilitation. At least twice every month, a ship comes and dozens of teenage boys and girls were sent to the old park turned rehabilitation center for the program. Your mother was an employee there and she taught technical and vocational subjects such as dressmaking, flower arrangement and beauty and hair. Meanwhile, your father was a Math teacher who also served as the guidance counselor and once in a while, he also taught car mechanics and repair as an elective. When you entered high school, you started volunteering at the rehabilitation center as one of the substitute art and music teacher for those under the age of fourteen alongside your best friend Huang Renjun.

Most of the kids sent to Yeodo were arrested due to multiple offenses such as continuous vandalizing, theft and public disturbance. There weren’t any serious offense until Na Jaemin arrived. His record was unlike anything you had heard and he was the talk of the town the moment his run-ins with the law were spread throughout the town and mind you, it spreaded out rapidly. He was from Seoul, a nineteen year-old who came from a prominent and wealthy background. The record didn’t say who his parents were to protect their reputation so people assumed his family must be one of those chaebols. His first run-in with the law was vandalizing a bus stop when he was only fourteen. Then, his run-ins just became worse and worse as he grew older. From petty vandalizing to drug dealing, supplying and usage to gang-related activities. So yes, Na Jaemin definitely stood out among the rest of the kids who were sent to Yeodo for rehabilitation that month.

The first time you saw Na Jaemin was when you were delivering the milk one of the eldery, Mrs. Im, asked you to give to the local daycare. As you arrived, you noticed a hooded figure spray painting on the gates of the daycare. You moved your bicycle off the street and walked over to where the figure was, arms crossed over your chest and a frown etched upon your face. “Excuse me but what are you doing?” You asked.

The figure looked at you—it was him, the infamous Na Jaemin. He was wearing an all black outfit, causing his pink hair to stand out. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He asked you back as he pulled his face mask down, letting it rest on his chin.

“You’re vandalizing a daycare. That is wrong and pretty sure, illegal.” You told him, as a matter-of-fact.

He hummed in response. “I wouldn’t say ‘vandalizing’ rather ‘expressing’ and ‘giving life’. You say this is a daycare? Why the fuck is it so bland then?” He chuckled as he continued on spray painting the gates.

You coughed at the smell but approached him anyways. You were about to tell him off and threaten him by calling the rehabilitation center where he should at when your eyes landed on the image, rather images, you saw painted on the gates. The first thing you saw was the artistically written ‘Welcome to Yeodo Daycare!’ on the very top then your eyes wandered around the various images of children playing and smiling, playing sports and music. On the corner down below, you saw a sentence, ‘Keep on dreaming and don’t let others dictate what your dream should be. Stay in school. NJ.’ You looked up to compliment Jaemin’s work but he was already gone along with his spray paints.

When you arrived home, you quickly took a hot shower got dressed into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie over one of your old T-shirt that surprisingly still fit you. Your parents were out helping with the planning for the upcoming village fiesta so you got the entire house to yourself since you were an only child. You thought about inviting Renjun over but the rain was still pouring heavily and you didn’t want him to get soaked since he gets sick easily. So, instead, you decided to watch a movie instead. You chose through the rack of DVDs under the television and settled with the first film in the Harry Potter series, The Sorcerer’s Stone. You set the movie up and paused it as you prepared snacks. Once you were finished, preparing your snacks, you made your way back into the living room but something, or rather someone, caught your eyes outside of your house through the window.

It was Jaemin. You could tell because he was the only one in Yeodo who had pink hair. You moved closer towards the window as you watched him. He was limping, holding his side. A frown drew on your face, he’s gotten into trouble again? Ever since Jaemin got to Yeodo and started his rehabilitation program, it was clear that he was a hard one. He didn’t follow the rules and gets into fights with the others with him mostly instigating it. He had been punished for every rule breaking but he didn’t care at all. Not even a little bit.

You sighed as you grabbed the umbrella from the old vase your father bought in a garage sale in Seoul and made your way outside. “Na Jaemin!” you called out as you unlocked the small gate of your house.

Jaemin didn’t stop walking (limping, actually) and you shook your head as you ran after him. “Jaemin-ssi, who did you fight with now?” you asked as you stood in front of him, making sure that your umbrella was also covering him.

Jaemin looked at you and you gasped in shock when you saw the cuts and bruises scattered on his face. He managed to scoff and pushed you aside as he continued to walk (limp!). “Jaemin! You’re going to get sick!”

“Would you leave me alone? For fuck’s sake, ever since I got in this shitty town you’d been all up my ass!” Jaemin exploded, looking over his shoulder. His eyes were a shade darker and you could feel the anger seeping inside you as you met his gaze with an anxious one.

“I just want to help you, that’s all.” you replied, holding the handle of your umbrella tightly. You felt a lump forming in your throat and the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Well, I don’t need it so stop talking to me. Stop getting into my business. You’re not my mother and you’re not my friend.”

“(Y/N), are you okay?”

Renjun’s voice snapped you out of your trance and you looked at him to see a worried look etched on his face. You gave him a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just daydreaming.” you told him. “What were you saying?”

Renjun chuckled and patted your head. “Cute.” He said as he pinched your cheek. You groaned playfully and slapped his hand away. “I was telling you that my mom asked if its possible that the kids at our music class at rehabilitation center can prepare for a stage number.”

Your eyes lit up. “Of course! That’d be awesome and I’m sure the kids would be willing to do it.”

“Whoo,” Renjun whistled. “I thought you’d say it was impossible. You know how persuasive my mother can be, right? I was pressured into saying yes.”

It was now your turn to pinch his cheek. ”Aigoo, my best friend is such a mama’s boy!”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that! I’m a man, (Y/N)! A man!”

You laughed, throwing your head back. You were really thankful for having Renjun around. You honestly didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t. He was like your other half, your twin. He always brought out the inner child in you because most of the time, you were serious and too focused on responsibilities you had with your volunteer work and your actual job at the town’s convenience store. Renjun was the balance you needed in your life and you were really thankful for his existence.

Soon, your homeroom teacher arrived and checked the attendance. Once that was over, she reminded everyone of the upcoming finals and the scholarship forms from the big universities in the city had arrived and could be filled out at the administration office. Renjun nudged your elbow when your adviser was announcing it and you nudged him back. The two of you were planning to take the scholarship exam of SM University. Renjun wanted to become an architectural engineer while you wanted to become a teacher. SM University offered both courses and had a great program so you and Renjun hoped that you two will be able to pass the exam.

School went by quickly. Most of the time, you were just spacing out. Your mind just kept wandering between the scholarship forms and Jaemin. You couldn’t help but to feel hurt at what Jaemin said that day. You just wanted to help him out, why did he have to be such a jerk in turning down the help? You really wanted to believe that Jaemin had some goodness in him because you believe that everyone had goodness in them but you were starting to doubt Jaemin had. Maybe he really was just like what everyone in town was saying—a spoiled rich kid who have a temper.

“Oh! (Y/N), can I ask you for a favor?” your last teacher for the day, Ms. Jung, called out as you were about to leave. You spun on your heel and nodded, making your way towards her. “Your house is on the way to the rehabilitation center, right?” you nodded. “My brother Jaehyun is volunteering with a couple of friends there at the moment and I promised that I’ll bring them snacks but there’s a meeting in five minutes so could you please take this to them?” Ms. Jung grabbed your hand and placed some bills on your palm before closing it.

“Yes, Ms. Jung. I’ll give this to them.” you replied before bidding her good bye with a bow and you were off towards the rehabilitation center.

When you arrived, you easily spotted Jaehyun helping with the decorations. And as much as you didn’t want to notice Jaemin, he really stood among the rest not only because of his pink hair but also because of the mural he was creating on the walls of the center. He really was a great painter, an artist, and you wished you could tell him that but your last encounter with him made it very clear that he didn’t want anything to do you. With a sigh, you made your way towards Jaehyun.

“Hey.” you said as you tapped Jaehyun on his shoulder. When he turned to you, you smiled at him and he smiled back, putting down the decoration he was holding on the table behind him. “Your sister wanted me to give you this. She said she couldn’t make it because she has a meeting.” you said as you handed him the money.

“We’re taking a break in five minutes. Do you want to come and eat? My treat.” Jaehyun offered, looking at you expectantly. Not again, you thought. It wasn’t news to you that Jaehyun liked you and he even confessed last summer but you had rejected him since you weren’t ready for any romantic relationship. Jaehyun was determined, though, and while he understood that you weren’t ready, he also found a loophole: you didn’t state that you didn’t like him back so he persistently asked you out whenever he was in town. Jaehyun was already in his second year of college, pursuing a medical degree in one of the top universities in Seoul. Whenever he was in town, everyone practically rejoiced. He was the golden boy of Yeodo and everyone loved Jaehyun because he really had the whole package. He was smart, kind, handsome and responsible. So when the town found out that you rejected him—you didn’t tell anyone but you felt ostracized. One elderly even told you, “Aish, you silly girl, why did you reject Jaehyun-ah? Who are you to reject someone as perfect as him?” Of course you didn’t answer back so you just nodded and apologized.

You had your reasons why you rejected Jaehyun but you didn’t dare tell anyone those, not even Renjun. Truth was, Jaehyun was indeed smart, kind, handsome and responsible but for all the wrong reasons. He was smart so he used that as an advantage to manipulate and uplift himself while simultaneously downgrading those who weren’t academically inclined. He was kind but only to those who he knew he would benefit from aka the elderly, the teachers and the adults. He was handsome and once again used that as an advantage to get anything he wants especially from the people he knew liked him and worshipped him like he was some god. And yes, he was responsible but for all the wrong things. He was the student council president when he was still attending your high school and he used that responsibility to order and dictate people around. Overall, you didn’t like Jaehyun because he was an arrogant, narcissistic bully.

You gave Jaehyun an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry but I have to go to work now. I just had to give you the money from Ms. Jung. I’m sorry again.”

You were about to leave when Jaehyun grabbed your hand and it wasn’t gentle by any means. “(Y/N), come on, I just came back from Seoul. Don’t you wanna catch up with me?” His tone wasn’t lighthearted, too. He was annoyed, you could tell.

“I’m really sorry, Jaehyun-ssi, some other time, maybe?” you tried to grab your hand back but he was holding onto it so tight that it was starting to hurt.

“You said that the—,” Suddenly, Jaehyun’s hand and yours were forcefully split. “You again, huh? Go, we’re talking.”

“You were trying to force her into doing something she clearly doesn’t want to do,” Jaemin spoke up as he stood in the middle of you and Jaehyun, his back facing you. “Not very golden of you, huh, hyung?”

Your eyes widened in shock. No one ever tried to talk back to Jaehyun especially in a mocking tone but here was Jaemin doing exactly that. You couldn’t see what Jaehyun’s expression was since Jaemin’s broad shoulders prevented you from doing so but you could tell from the stares of the other people in the center that he was pissed. You heard Jaehyun scoff. “What to expect from a criminal? Respect? Who am I kidding? Yah, criminal, don’t call me hyung, alright?”

“Yes, but at least I got the balls to do my dirty works upfront not behind everyone’s backs.” Jaemin snickered and before you knew it, you had been pushed to the ground when Jaemin staggered backwards. He landed on you and you yelped in pain. “Get the fuck off me, you psycho!” Jaemin yelled as he pushed Jaehyung off of him and then grabbed your hand. “You know how to run?” He asked but he didn’t wait for you to answer and pulled you up, dragging you away from the center and the angry Jaehyun.

You didn’t know how long you and Jaemin had been running but it was long enough because you found yourself at the docks where fishermen parked their boats and where tourists arrived. You were out of breath, collapsing on the ground as your chest rose rapidly. Sweat covered your body, your hair sticking all over your hair as the ponytail you had been wearing became undone. Jaemin, on the other hand, was catching up on his breath but he didn’t look anywhere as exhausted as you were. You grabbed your bag beside you and pulled out the bottle of water you had, quickly opening the cap and gulping the liquid until the last drop.

“Thanks for sharing.” Jaemin said, chuckling. You looked up at him, amusement plastered on his face. You shook your head as you pushed yourself off the ground and brushed away the dirt on your uniform.

“Thank you.” you said, facing him. “For saving me back there.”

Jaemin scoffed, reaching something from his shoe. A cigarette. “I didn’t save you; I wanted to piss golden boy off.” He replied then faced you, the cigarette now between his lips. “Got a lighter?”

You shook your head. “That’s bad for your health.” you told him, pointing at the stick between his lips. “And don’t say we’re all gonna die at one point. What about the rest of your life before that?”

“I thought we established the fact that we aren’t friends so why are you still up on my business? Don’t you have a life?” Jaemin snapped, raising his eyebrow at you.

“I owe you my life. The least I could do is to—,”

Jaemin took a step towards you, throwing his stick away and closing in the distance between the two of you. He leaned down, meeting your eyes. “I didn’t save you.”

“Why do you keep up with that façade, Jaemin? It doesn’t hurt to be a good person.” you told him softly, meeting his hardened gaze with your soft ones.

“I’m not a good person. Why the fuck do you think I was sent in this shitty island for?” Jaemin took a step back, running his fingers through his hair.

“Everyone has goodness in them, Jaemin. You are no exception.” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Everyone? You sure about that? Even that prick Jaehyun?” Jaemin chuckled. You didn’t reply and watched as he walked towards the end of the dock. The sun was already setting and the environment around the both of you were draped with bright orange. You walked towards him and stood beside him. “Does he like you or something?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Yes,” you didn’t deny. “I rejected him though. I don’t... particularly find him my type.”

“Just say you don’t like him.” Jaemin said, annoyed. “Nobody has a type, trust me.”

“I’m not in a position to say I don’t like Jaehyun, Jaemin.” you said with an empty, almost inaudible laugh.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “What?”

You took a deep breath as you held your chin up, watching as the sun set in the horizon. You never told anyone about your reasons why you don’t like Jaehyun but somehow, with Jaemin, it felt right. And so you told him and when you checked to see if he was listening from time to time, you found himself with his eyes closed and seated on the edge of the dock, legs dangling above the cold water. You could tell he was listening because every time you stopped, he would open his eyes and tell you to proceed. Once the story was over, Jaemin rose from his seat. “So he’s a jack ass who can’t take no from an answer. And here I was thinking men had finally developed.”

You only smiled. “If he bothers you again then just punch him or kick his dick. You gotta learn to put ‘no’ into actions, (Y/N)-ssi.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

And for the rest of the hour, you and Jaemin just sat in silence as the last bit of light faded and the moon rose, lighting up the sea before the two of you.

Hanging out with Jaemin after that day became an everyday thing. It would always be by the docks. You would pack snacks and little lunchboxes for the two of you to share while conversing about the most random thing like which was better: chicken wings or chicken legs. But there were times where the conversation was serious and deep like the time Jaemin first opened up to you. You remember just telling him an anecdote about your childhood and he replied by telling you he didn’t have as much fun as you did when he was little. You asked why and to your surprise, Jaemin told you that he was an only child and his parents were always busy with work so he didn’t get to play and spend time with them as you did with your parents when you were little. He left it at that but you were thankful that Jaemin was starting to open up. Days passed before Jaemin opened up to you again and this time, he told you how he became the person he was now. His parents, specifically his father, was a known businessman and was very strict towards him. To Jaemin, he never really felt like he was his father but one of his employees. Jaemin always felt controlled by his father and he just snapped one day. Vandalizing and petty crimes were his way of getting back at his father and even though he was beaten up every time his father would learn of his actions, Jaemin never felt pain but rather an immense feeling of victorious. Then he met some people that weren’t exactly ‘good’ people. They were the ones who taught him how to do drugs, drink, smoke and other illegal things—street race, theft, burglary, public disturbance and hacking to name a few. He was aware that what he was doing was too much but for the first time in his life, Jaemin felt like he had a family. When his father learned about this, it was the last straw and he was sent to Yeodo.

You felt sorry for Jaemin but he made it clear that he didn’t need that from anyone. He didn’t regret his actions and he wasn’t repenting for it either. After he told you all that, he turned to you and said, “Still think I’m a good person?” He had a loopsided smirk when he asked you that.

“Humans are a complex being,” you told him. “We do things we think are right and justifiable but for some it may be wrong and unjust. You did all those because you wanted to get back at your father—that is understandable but along the way of doing so, you had hurt innocent people who were just trying to get by and that is wrong.” you faced Jaemin, a small smile on your face. “I think you’re a good person, Jaemin; its just you chose to be the villain in your own story.”

The streets were already dark but the lamp posts illuminated some parts. You and Jaemin were on your back and to your surprise, Jaemin offered to walk you home as payment for all the food you kept on bringing whenever the two of you would meet. You were thankful that it was night time already and the lamp posts weren’t as bright as before because you had been blushing like hell ever since Jaemin offered to take you home. You knew it meant nothing but still, you couldn’t get the butterflies in your stomach to stop being chaotic and your face from turning red. You had been feeling this way lately—giddy and nervous and awkward whenever you were with Jaemin. You had a hunch why but you didn’t want to say it out loud especially to yourself. It just wasn’t right. And even if it was, it would just be one-sided and eventually Jaemin would have to go once he finishes his stay at Yeodo. So you just kept it to yourself and enjoyed the moments you spent with him.

You found yourself in front of your house moments later. The lights were on and you could hear the sound of television inside. You faced Jaemin, “Thanks for walking me home.”

“It’s not free, you know. You have to pay me.” Jaemin said as a matter of fact.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “How? Do you want me to make that sandwich you like again?” you asked, grabbing the lunchbox from his hand as you chuckled.

“No, something else.” Jaemin replied.

“What do you—,” Before you can finish your sentence, you felt something on your lips. Your eyes widened in shock and surprise as Jaemin held your face with his hands, moving his lips against yours. You were frozen, unable to respond but you didn’t need to as he pulled away just as quick as he kissed you.

“I expect that payment every time I accompany you anywhere. Got it, (Y/N)?” Jaemin smiled at you—not in a mocking or teasing way but a real, genuine and sincere smile. You felt like your heart was about to explode. “Yah, did you turn into a stone?” He poked your cheek and you blinked your eyes rapidly, feeling your face heat up. He chuckled. “Was that your first kiss?”

You nodded in embarrassment. You should be mad because you expected your first kiss to be more magical but you weren’t. In fact, you were practically jumping and screaming inside. “First kisses are really not that special, (Y/N). You get to have many first kisses in your life. What’s important is who’s gonna be your last. Do you think I can be that guy?” Jaemin stepped forward and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “I told myself I wouldn’t fall for you but I did and I was wondering if you want to fall for me too?”

“I—yes, I, I want to, Jaemin-ssi.” you stuttered out, lowering your gaze. You couldn’t meet his eyes. It was too much.

“Can I have another kiss?” He asked and you nodded shyly. Placing his fingers on your chin, he lifted your face and smiled before connecting his lips with yours.

Being with Jaemin made you feel alive and you didn’t know that was possible. You didn’t understand when people say don’t just live instead be alive but now you do. Whenever you were with Jaemin, you felt like you could conquer the world. Whenever you were with Jaemin, it felt like it was the only the two of you in the world. You felt so happy and so lucky because Jaemin was just too perfect to even be real but whenever he held you close to him and kissed you—you realized that it was real and he was real and him being your boyfriend was real. You used to think that you had a pretty great life then you met him and he changed all that. You didn’t know how one person can change your life entirely.

Before Jaemin, you were living a simple life—a life that everyone in Yeodo was living.

After Jaemin, you realized how much you were missing out on.

Three months after the two of you started dating, you woke up one day and learned that Jaemin was released from the rehabilitation center and was brought back to Seoul to start anew. You cried your heart out—why didn’t he say good bye? You remembered just falling apart. You gave everything to that boy but he just left. You always knew he would but he promised to say good bye and to write since there was no stable signal at Yeodo but ever since he left, there wasn’t a single letter from Seoul that arrived.

Three months later, you graduated and found out you got accepted into SM University along with Renjun. You were supposed to be happy and celebrate but you went home, acceptance letter in your hand, and went to sleep.

Yet another three months later, you were bidding your parents and everyone in town good bye as you and Renjun boarded the ship towards Seoul to settle for college that was about to start in two months. You were feeling better now and tried to forget the pink-haired boy that was your first love.

And as you left Yeodo, you looked back one last time and reminisced back to the days where the dock felt like the entire world whenever you were Jaemin. But now, it was just empty.