#the man had black pants and shoes covering his legs entirely (the laces on the shoes didnt make sense and had artifacts) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sombreboy · 3 years ago

Text

Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I doing well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just to be his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would've made sure of it."

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

409 notes · View notes

drakenology · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Gonna Be A Long Night - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings! ⚠️ : smut, fluff, and swearing. also in the perspective of a fem!reader

summary: bakugo gets home from a longggg night of hero work; desperate to just crawl into his shared bed with his favorite person (hey, that’s you!) and ravish her until the night is done. he hasn’t been this hungry for you since the first time you guys did the deed!

Idk the word count for this. Sorry! I’m typing this on my phone anddd i’m kinda new to this stuff. Enjoy!

God. Tonight was one of the most draining nights of Bakugo’s career as top hero. Five villian attacks in the same night as well as an attempted kidnapping. Not to mention the long and drawn out confrence meetings with the local police as well as the other pro heros in his agency.

As the night ended, Bakugo waved goodbye with the least amount of energy he could give as he turned in for the night, heading to his car to return home. He plopped down in the driver’s seat with an exasperated sigh as he reached in his pocket to grab his phone to let you know he was on the way home; shutting this door behind himself.

“Hey, you awake? If not I’m waking you up. I need you.” Bakugo texted with sleepy eyes. He waited for a little while to see if you’d respond before he pulled off. Soon enough he heard his phone ping.

“Yeah. Can’t sleep. Had a bad day? I can reheat your dinner if you want.” You texted back from your shared bed. You were up waiting for him to come home all night. He wasn’t supposed to be out this late anyways. That’s what happens when you’re engaged to a pro hero. The sleepless nights, those nights where one of you would be asleep and the other comes trudging in from a late shift; sometimes it can be overwhelming, but for him it was all worth it. You supported his dream of being a pro hero since the two of you were walking the halls of UA together.

“Nah. Not hungry for that. I’m tryna eat something else though.” Bakugo texted back with a sly smirk. He sat his phone on the dashboard and pulled out of the parking lot; making his way home.

Bakugo couldn’t wait to get home; driving in his all black sports car with haste through the city traffic. At least y/n would be there to greet him. He knew from the start of your relationship that you were his end game. He loved everything about you from your head down to your toes (which he secretly thinks are fucking adorable!). All he could think about is how you look when you’re undone; hair messy, little to no clothes on looking absolutely delicious in one of his big t-shirts. He could already smell your shampoo as he dreamt of you lying in bed waiting for him; his pants growing tight as he imagines your breasts bare and supple underneath one of his shirts. As he waits for the traffic light to turn green, he reaches for his phone to text you again.

“Gonna fuck the shit outta you when I get there, baby. I cant wait to see that ass naked.”

Meanwhile at home, you read the text from your favorite blonde with a goofy smile plastered on your face. Biting your lip in temptation, you jump out of bed to prep yourself for the long night of love-making ahead. It was a Friday night so he had all the time in the world to please your body for as long as he wished as weekends were his only days off. You walked towards your bathroom to take a quick shower before your fiancé made his way home. You stood in the hot shower and let out a small groan as the feeling of your muscles relaxing under the water slowly covered your body. Sighing, you wash up a little more before turning off the water and stepping out, running a towel over your wet face to dry it off. You walk back into your bedroom and pull out one of Bakugo’s favorite sets he loves to see you in. An orange lace bra with a black lacy thong with matching orange trimming on them. The first time you wore this for your fiancé he damn near ripped it off of you.

“Fuck, you look so sexy, princess. Move ‘em to the side. Don’t you dare take them off.” He said gesturing towards your sweet heat. He ate you out for what seemed like hours that night in his office and fucked you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

You softly smiled at the memory as you pulled a big white t-shirt (belonging to bakugo) over the sexy little number. Soon enough you heard the sound of your fiancé’s car alarm being activated .

He’s home. You practically run into the living room like a puppy greeting its owner. Standing right in front of the front door, you listen as the door clicks unlocked, your lower half feeling a familiar pressure. You missed him so much. Too much. The door opens as your spikey headed blond lover walks through, sitting his bag at the door and taking off his shoes. He looks down at you, his towering figure inching closer to your smaller frame. He says nothing, pulling you into his arms as if he hadn’t seen you in years when it had only been a few hours. You wrap your arms around his neck and embrace the man you love.

“Hey, shitty woman.” He says, peppering little kisses all over your face and neck.

He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his strong waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips. Your tongues danced together, massaging and exploring each other with love as he pulled away slowly as if he never wanted to stop. He catches your scent and he knows he’s finally home. With you.

“I’ve been missing you all day, Ka-chan. How was your day?” You ask him, still being carried by Bakugo as if you were a precious thing that was to never touch the ground.

“It’s better now that I’m home. Today did anything less than piss me off.” Katuski growled. He walked toward the kitchen and sat you down on the island. “I guess you’re gonna have to make it better, huh princess?”

You licked your lips in response; your pussy feeling as if a faucet had been turned on. You wanted him bad. And he wanted you too.

“It’s like you don’t own any of your own pajamas. Why’re you always prancing around in my shirts, huh? Is it ‘cause you know it fuckin’ turns me on seeing you like this? I bet you’re naked under here, aren’t you?” Bakugo groans lifting the shirt over your head to reveal the sexy lingerie you slipped on earlier. You smirk as he drinks in your entire body with his cheeks flushing red. God, he think you’re the most gorgeous thing walking. How’d he end up with someone as perfect as you? Didn’t matter. He had you right where he wanted you, from now until forever.

“Damn.” He said, biting his lip as he caressed your thighs, spreading them a bit to get a good look at you. You let out a subtle moan, your pussy growing wetter by the second as he touched you. It was like his hands knew which spots to touch to turn you on. He stood between your legs, hiking them up on his hips as he motions for you to lay back on the island. “I remember this damned set. You surprised me at work wearing nothing but this under that long coat I got you a couple Christmases back. You still look fuckin’ hot in it.” Bakugo said, looking you deep in your eyes. He doesn’t even know where to start with you. All he knows is that he’s gonna fuck you until all you can say is his name by the break of dawn.

“Katsuki~, I’m so wet for you. P-Please touch me.” You whined, the pressure in your panties becoming too much to bear. He smirks at you, running his hands up your body to pull out one of your breasts from your bra. You hiss a little at your exposed nipple being assaulted by the cool air of the kitchen.

“ ‘Gonna be a long fuckin’ night, baby. You oughta be more patient. You’re gonna be walkin with a limp for a week when I’m done with you.” Bakugo said, lightly pinching your hardened nipple, pulling it slightly as he watched you try and close your thighs for friction. Your lacy panties could barely contain your juices from freely flowing out of you, your moans softly filling Katsuki’s ears as you squirm underneath him.

“Been thinkin’ about your sexy ass all day, ya know.” He says, kissing a trail down to where you needed him most only to further tease you by rubbing your clit harshly with his thumb over your panties. You gasp as he pulled them slightly to the side, just enough to see your pussy glistening with your own juices.

“Heh.. you weren’t kiddin’. You must be dyin’ for me to fuck you, huh baby?” He was enjoying this way too much. You try grinding against his stilled thumb as he swatted your ass in protest, you yelping in response.

“Stay fuckin’ still. I’ll get to that needy little pussy in a second.” He groans. Trust me, this is killing him just as much as it’s killing you. He just wants to savor the moment. Even though he had a whole weekend to have you bent over or spread out for you to take his dick, the weekends go by so quickly. And the night had just begun. Bakugo lifts you up and carries you to your shared bedroom, practically throwing you on the bed as you giggle. He climbs on top of you, dipping down to kiss you again. You moan into the kiss as he slips his tongue in your mouth, lifting a knee up to lightly brush against his hard dick through his pants. He groans, extra sensitive from being hard from his car up until now.

“Damn brat, I told you keep still.” He says, wrapping a hand around your throat to choke you as he kissed you deeper, yanking off your panties. You squeal as he slips his hand down to rub your clit in agonizingly slow circles. You moan into his lips desperately, wanting so much more than this insufferable teasing. You needed him now. He pulls away to look at your face; flushed and absolutely gorgeous. Your hair was disheveled from the kissing, your breast still hanging out of your bra as your chest heaved from you breathing heavily after the heated kiss. He burned this image of you into the back of his mind. Reaching behind you, he unclasped your bra; drinking in your beautiful and supple breasts. He moans at the sight, taking a nipple into his mouth feverishly suckling on the exposed bud. You moan into the air as he slips in two of fingers into your needy hole.

“Like that shit, huh?” He asked, pulling away from your breast. You nodded desperately, moans filling the room and Bakugo’s ears to his delight. He smirked as he quickened his pace, feeling your pussy contract around his fingers. Any more of this and you’re gonna cum for sure. Your moans becoming more high pitched and audible by the second as he inched you closer to your climax. Just as you’re about to release, he stops his fingers to your dismay. You frown at him, the cutest face he’s ever seen.

“Aw, princess. Did ya really think I was gonna let you cum this soon?” He said, licking his fingers tasting your sweet juices. He kissed down your stomach, stopping just below your belly button. “Tell me what you want, baby.” He growls, kissing a little lower.

“Fuuuck, Ka-chan pleaseee. F-Fuck me. I need you.” you whine, almost crying out for him to fuck you already. He loves it when you beg for him, especially when you use his old nickname in bed while doing so. You’re a strong, bad ass hero out in the streets, but a needy little baby for him in the sheets. He smirks as he removed his pants and boxers, his thick and juicy length slapping against his stomach as he removed them. You practically drool at the sight, hungry for that dick to be inside you. He watches your face has he revealed his dick to you, loving the hunger in your eyes.

“You ready, babe?” He asked, tapping the tip of his dick against your aching pussy. You nod, so ready to take him as you spread your legs nice and wide for him. Bakugo bit his lip at the sight of your gorgeous pussy, not hesitating to slide himself inside with a gutteral grunt. You gasp, taking him all in with ease with your slick cunt.

“Fuck, baby, mmm you’re so fuckin’ wet for me.” He groans, leaning down into your neck as he slowly thrusts into you, allowing you to adjust to his length. You two haven’t fucked all week until now so you’re feeling extra tight around him. Finally, the feeling you’ve been waiting for all night. You moaned sinfully as you feel him stretch you out, grabbing hold of his head and pulling lightly on his hair. He always filled you up so nicely, the feeling of his veiny length sliding in and out of your drenched walls sending you into complete bliss. The world could be burning around you and you wouldn’t even notice or care. Bakugo leaving open mouth kisses all over your neck, sucking harshly at the flesh as he leaves love bites all over as his pace became hard and fast. You moan loudly as he pounds into you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you claw at his back.

“Mmmm~, K-Kachan I-I love you.” You purr into his ear as he kisses you in response. You start to feel yourself coming undone under him, your legs shaking around him. “I-I’m gonna c-cum. Ughh I love you.” You repeated as he fucks you even harder. Sounds of skin slapping, and your wet pussy taking him in and out filled the room as your moans echo in Katsuki’s ears. He’s close too but you always cum first so he’s holding himself back.

“Shit baby. You’re so fuckin’ tight. Go head and cum for me. C’mon.” He coos, rubbing your clit in time with his strokes. You practically scream as you instantaneously come undone as he requested, Katsuki not letting up in his strokes as he has to cum too. Tears fill your eyes as you take him, not fully recovered from your first orgasm as you moan louder. Overstimulated, you tremble underneath him unable to cope.

“Ah- Fuck!” You scream, feeling yourself about to burst for him again. His name on your lips like a mantra, you claw at his back more, for sure leaving scratches. He growls, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, stroking you deeper and deeper. He watches your face twist and turn as you take him deeper, your face filled with pleasure and lust as he brutally pounded into you. Your breasts jiggle as he pounds you, you grabbing onto one for dear life as he assaults your pussy. You clench around him again, seeing stars in your eyes as you feel yourself nearing your second orgasm.

“That’s right, baby. Cum for me again. ‘M not fuckin done with you.” His brash voice hums as he leans in further, your legs pressed against your chest as he pounds into you, slow but hard. You can’t contain your moans as you scream and cry for him, your neighbors definitely will know his name without even meeting him. You moan from deep within your stomach as you clench hard around his dick, cumming again and leaving a mess all over your sheets. He groans as his hips stutter into yours, nearing his own release.

“Fuckkk princess. I’m gonna cum- shit!” He hissed, his strokes becoming sloppy. You bite your lip as you feel his dick throb inside you, loving the way his last few thrusts feel.

“Yes ‘Suki, cum inside me!” You whine, kissing him briefly as you felt his hot sticky cum coat your insides. Huffing and puffing, his head hangs back as he rides out his orgasm. He comes back to reality as he pulls himself out of you, watching his seed ooze out of your used pussy with pride. You wipe the sweat from your brow as you welcome him to snuggle with you, his head resting on your breasts as he kissed them and gave one a final squeeze. You two lay in silence, coming down from the highs of your orgasms as you both panted for air with exhaustion. Well, at least for you anyways. He looks at you with love in his eyes, caressing your cheek as he gazed into your eyes.

“I know I don’t say this to you often.. but I love you. Dumbass.” He laughs weakly as he kisses your breast. You smile as you move his hair away from his face.

“And I you, Kachan.” You say, kissing his forehead. Knowing Katuski for as long as you have, he doesn’t really articulate his feelings with words but more so with his actions. Tonight was a prime example of him showing his love and appreciation for you without having to say it. So to hear him say these words verbally means a lot to you.

“No seriously. Y/n I can’t wait to marry you in a few weeks. And then I’m gonna put a baby in you as soon as we get home. I can’t wait to see you all swollen, wabbling around with our baby inside you. I know we’re gonna make for kick ass parents. You’re the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me.” He said taking your hand and entertwining it with his. You giggle at the thought of being pregnant by the love of your life. It was truly something you both wanted for a long time and now that you’re both established heros, you can make it happen. You begin to close your eyes, sleep taking over your body as you feel Katsuki jump up from his position in bed.

“Whelp. Break time’s over. Bring your ass here.” He said smirking at you as he pulled you towards him for another round. You squealed as you laughed uncontrollably, kissing him once more. You glanced out of the window to see the sun peaking out the horizon. Damn. Dawn already. He really meant it when he said it was gonna be a long night.

AHHHHH! My first smut writing! I’m so happy omg. This was really fun to write and it only took a day. Thanks for reading! I gotta make a schedule for this stuff. See yall next time!

#bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha imagines #bnha oc #bnha headcanons #bnha #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha midoriya #bnha kirishima #bnha kaminari #bnha tenya

1K notes · View notes

lovelystay · 4 years ago

Text

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖 🍒

𝕟𝕠𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕟

(ℝ𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥)

[Rᴇsᴜᴍᴇ : han jisung had a boring college life , nothing exciting until he started to know you. You were like a drug and he quickly got addicted. ]

Jisung’s life is very boring , no family , no friends, no girlfriend , no special skill , nothing exciting . You were probably the only good human interaction he had in all of his college years , a young beautiful student , third year in college , very lovely with him. He thought you were interested in him , but , you only came up to him because of some activities that your teacher told every new student to do, like asking older classes about their college experience and some other things.

After you’ve talked to him , he was smiling all day his heart was beating fast , he couldn’t stop thinking about you . Han tried to get closer to you , but each time he did ,it was too short , too fast for him . I mean, of course , he is in his last year of college and you’re in your third year , the schedules are so different . But jisung found another way to stay close to you , the difference is ; you’re not aware . As weird and creepy as it sounds , he thinks that it’s not a big deal because he’s not hurting you ...

Han’s life was boring and lifeless , so devoting his free time entirely to you wouldn’t be really bothering .

After stalking you on social media and tracking you down from time to time , he decided that owning something from you would be a great form of reward .

Today was the day when he finished classes an hour sooner than you. Which gave him the time to get to your dorm . As soon as his classes ended he hurried to get there , he had no one to wait for and no one to wait for him .

His heartbeat got really fast but he was confident anyway , the doors could get unlocked with a 4 digits code , Han sometimes followed you when you get back to your room so he already had the code fully memorised in his head .

Quietly and surely , jisung stepped into your little home , penetrating your personal space without you knowing anything. He was very quiet and careful with the noise, the walls were pretty thin and no one was supposed to be here .

With his bag still on his back, Han bends down to take off his shoes leaving them almost right in front of the door and then rush to find out where your room is .

He found it pretty quickly after opening a random door, everything looks so nice. It smells good , everything is cleaned and pretty just like jisung would have imagined. Han stepped inside and wondered about what he was doing , wasn’t it a little too much ? Was he crossing a line ? Why would he do something you clearly would dislike if he likes you so much ? Too much question came to himself and he decided to answer none, the bad has already been done , he’s here already, he can’t step back after coming this far...

He shook his head trying to clear his mind and searched your room to finally open your closet . The first thing that came to his mind were your underwear. Jisung loved to imagine you in cute lingerie and even just basic underwear it would turn him on like crazy and would get him a boner randomly in class . As soon as he opened the closet ,he opened random drawers in hope to find what he’s looking for. Jisung let out an audible gasp when he found laced black underwear, his heartbeat got faster and faster imagining you wearing those , just for him . He took them in his hands and slowly observed them , watching every single details. Curious , he wondered what they would smell like , he could feel his sanity slowly leaving his body and mind not caring about anything anymore. Han took them in one hand and brings them up to his nose , he practically inhaled In them, appreciating the good scent they had. Jisung quickly got carried away , instead of heading back to his home and living your dorm before you came , he took off his own underwear and pants down to his thighs and masturbated with your piece of clothes. He shifts between putting the underwear on his pink tip and down his nose ,thrusting up to get himself off, he immediately set a high pace because of how excited he was. The adrenaline of sneaking in your dorm was already getting him sick but having an underwear you probably wear not so long ago got him really rilled up.

Little did he know , you had a test on this last hour and you could leave earlier if you finished before the bell rings. Which happened, you were so happy, the test wasn’t as difficult as you thought which resulted in you completing it pretty quickly. With a smile on your face you headed back to your dorm, happy to finally getting to rest after this day that seemed so long. You instantly perceive a pair of shoes that were totally unfamiliar to you , they look like a man’s. No one even came here and you don’t have any pair looking like this one. It triggered something in you, someone is in your home without your consent and is probably dangerous. With your body starting slowly to shake out of fear, you tried your best to be quiet and got to the kitchen to get a knife. Your hearing wasn’t the best but wasn’t bad either, you could hear some sounds coming out of the direction of your bedroom. Someone is definitely there. Slowly and on your tiptoes you walked to your bedroom scared to life and wanting to get that stranger out of your home.

Your hands seemed to start trembling but your grip on your knife was tight enough so you were sure you wouldn’t drop it .

The steps you took were small because you were nervous but you still were getting more closer and closer to your room. The door was slightly open , not completely but not closed either which allowed who to take a peek of who was inside. You moved forward until your shoulder was touching the door, you stopped breathing and focused. But your grip on the knife loosened and you dropped it, the sound of the knife dropping on the floor scared you so you immediately screamed, Jisung was as scared as you, he knew when he heard the sudden noise that it could only be you that was there. You glanced at the person that you soon identified to be Han jisung , he was almost naked , you could see his private parts and your closet was open with panties dropped to his side , you understood what he was doing and panicked. He definitely knew you were there now. While you were almost paralysed with fear, he hurried to put his pants back on as nothing happened. Your thoughts were tangled you couldn’t understand a lot and everything got exhausting and stressful at the same time really quickly. You saw him struggling to get up and trying to get to you so you started screaming in case someone was passing by and could hear you and save you , which would probably not happen . Han was quick to put his hand on your mouth to shut you up , you got disgusted and scared and told him «You’re a dirty and disgusting pervert get off me! » you screamed fear and total honesty. Jisung get surprised at your words and got mad. He loves you so much and care about you but instead you just think of him like a disgusting being. He lets you go for a second to get the panties and immediately shove them in your mouth roughly making you gag a little. « Who’s the dirty and disgusting now huh ? Try and talk with those cum filled underwear of yours in your mouth. » he said laughing at you and how dumb you looked.

« I wonder how you actually taste down there » he smirked and touched you from your breast down to your covered pussy only hearing muffled screams coming out of your mouth. Han sweared he could’ve cum right there just by feeling your intimate parts up in his hands. He bite his lips and pressed his hand harder on your clit giggling at your face with the wide eyes you just gave him. « Let me show you how good I can make you feel baby » jisung said his voice full of sincerity and looking at you eyes full of lust.

You shook your head left and right knowing that the words that would come out if you tried to talk would be incomprehensible. He smirked and told you « I know you act like you don’t want it because you’re scared but I want to taste you anyway ». He noticed that you two were still standing next to your room’s door so he grabbed you by the arm and forced you to go with him on the bed. Jisung then brabbed the top of your bottoms and slide them down to your ankles leaving you completely exposed to him. You tried and shook you legs to hit him and maybe get away but he was way stronger that you and you probably wouldn’t be able to go past your bedroom’s door anyway. Han smacked your thighs and seized your ankles to spread your legs and force them open, he laughed pridefully when he got a clear glance of your vagina, he could only imagine it before but now he surely won’t have to anymore.

Jisung grabs you by the thighs and dives in. His tongue teased over your clit, stopping occasionally to suck on it wanting to hear the girl he’s obsessed with scream his name. Your moans and cries were muffled by the underwear, but Han could hear them well enough to think that you were enjoying what he was giving to you. He was tasting you and feeling you get wet against your will.

You were extremely ashamed of yourself even though it wasn’t your fault but you felt the pleasure building up and your high getting closer as jisung was licking and kissing your private parts. He could probably tell. While you cried louder hitting your high jisung looked at you smirking , he looked at you in the eyes and continued to eat you out , overstimulating you. It hurts really bad, you knew you were sensitive and hoped he would’ve stopped sooner just Han just wouldn’t. He enjoyed receiving a reaction from you whether it would be a good reaction or a bad reaction, as long as he has your attention he is happy. Seeing you squirm around and try to get him get away from you was enjoyable for him. But you really hated it his tongue kept circling around your clit were it hurts the most when you were overstimulated.

Jisung got worried someone may hear you two so he added a hand over your mouth considering that the piece of clothing wasn’t enough anymore .

« Are you ready for my cock sweetheart ? » han said in a mocking tone , knowing you couldn’t answer. You tried to scream again in hope that someone would come but he got up and leaned it your ears to warn you « You better keep your voice low or the disgusting guy like you said isn’t going to treat you so nicely anymore », you could feel his hot breath tingling your ears as the words came out. Nicely ? That was nicely ?

Han got back up and said in a normal tone of voice « I hope I’m your first, I want to be a special someone for you, because you’re very special to me ». You almost wanted to throw up hearing him acting as he love you after he did all of this mess. You looked at him in the eyes in a very derogatory way that he didn’t quite enjoy. « Alright » jisung sighed.

His cock was already out and firm. Tears were rolling down your eyes again crying and choking on your own spit. He took his hard and leaking cock in his hands and slid it up and down your pussy moaning and feeling your wetness mixed with his saliva. He entered you and stretched your pussy out earning a gasp from you. To test and by curiousness of your reaction, he immediately set a high pace that got you to scream, breathing was already hard with that thing in your mouth but it now became harder as you couldn’t catch up with him. It made your boobs move in a way he loved, so to not keep his hands empty he grabbed them liking the pleased feeling of your hard nipples against his palms.

Jisung loved fucking you so much it could become a drug to him, he’s already addicted to you anyway.

You didn’t even tried to fight him anymore your whole body felt numb and every single one of your muscles aches.

When he felt his high coming, the stalker pulled out, he grabbed his dick in his right hand and jerked off in front of you rapidly, throwing his head back hissing and moaning your name until thick white fluid came out and landed on your breast. Decorating and marking you in his own way.

309 notes · View notes

enchantedblackrose · 4 years ago

Text

Break of Dawn

He looks kinda sad or maybe thoughtful here? Idk I chose it bc he was dressed up.

Antonio Dawson/ Fem Reader

Summary: A little trip to NYC meant for sightseeing turns into the two of you not leaving each other alone

Warnings: Some plot. Mostly smut. 18+ only. Language. Also I'm sleep deprived please be forgiving of any mistakes

Requested by @fabyoliveira1999 to use Michael Jackson's Break of Dawn as the prompt. Lyrics obviously not mine. ETA: Huge shout out for waiting so patiently. You're a sweetheart.

I remember you and I walking through the park at night. Kiss and touch, nothing much, let it blow just touch and go

You walk hand in hand, so close you're bumping shoulders with every other stride, but neither one of you mind.

"Thanks for dinner, baby."

"You don't have to thank me, mi amor. It's my pleasure."

You squeeze his hand lightly. "We didn't have to go somewhere so fancy."

"I like doing it for you and I love seeing you dolled up like this." Antonio presses his lips to your temple and lets them linger there. His hot breath tickles your neck and you giggle.

You do look pretty in your body flattering dress and Antonio has complimented your appearance more than once. You're more than thankful to be sharing this time with Antonio, who used some furlough to whisk you away to NYC for a few days. It might seem silly to some, leaving one large city to vacation in another, but you were delighted knowing this whole trip was orchestrated so you could finally visit The Met. But that was scheduled for tomorrow. Tonight, Antonio took you out to an upscale restaurant and now you both are walking through the famous Central Park. A full moon shines directly above.

"I still can't believe you let me order two desserts," you laugh.

"Well, I didn't want to make you choose. I wish I could always give you everything you want."

You stop walking. Concerned, Antonio eyes flicker to your face searching for an answer as to way you suddenly stopped walking.

But you wrap your arms around him for an embrace and then pressing into him, kiss him softly on the mouth. Your lips drop to his collarbone exposed in his form fitting black button-up. His breath catches and you smile. With his hand still in yours you resume walking.

"We should leave," you say.

"I thought we were looking for that statue you wanted to see. Some old dead guy?"

You laugh. "Beethoven," you correct. "We can come back tomorrow, see it in the day. But right now there's something else I want to see more."

"What's that?"

"You. Naked."

Antonio tugs your arm, pulling you back in the direction of the car. You can't help but laugh. The walk is hard as you take turns giving sloppy kisses and teasing touches.

You climb into the backseat of the blacked out SUV Antonio rented. He joins you. Your hands find his belt buckle while he nips and sucks at your neck. You palm his hardened cock through his boxers causing him to moan.

"Mami."

Your free hand undoes the first two buttons of his shirt, your nails lightly grazing the bare skin beneath the fabric and squeezing his peck. Antonio hikes up your dress. His fingers play at the delicate lace of your underwear before moving it aside and pressing a finger inside your entrance. Feeling your wetness, he lets out another groan.

"Baby girl, how can you be so wet already? I haven't done anything to you."

"Fuck me now then," you say, tugging the waistband of his boxers down just enough to spring free his cock. You moan at the sight of it and Antonio chuckles. His fingers hook the sides of your underwear bringing the garment to your ankles. He moves to fully sit on the seat, pulling you onto his lap in the process. Hands on your hips, Antonio helps position you so you're able to take him in. The contact causes you to inhale sharply. You begin to rock your hips. Fast.

"Fuck," Antonio cries. His grip on you tightens as he helps you move against him. Your teeth graze his neck as your fingers get lost tugging his hair. Your pace quickens as you fee al familiar knot forming in your stomach. You cry out Antonio's name as you come and he spills into you just after.

Upon returning to your hotel room, Antonio takes a seat in armchair, removing his dress shoes and socks. You kick off your shoes, leaving them near the door for the moment. You feel Antonio watching you and you inquisitively tilt your head at him.

"What?" You ask.

His eyes shamelessly roam your body from your toes to your face.

"I feel like you didn't get what you want." He answers, stepping towards you.

"Baby, what are you talking about? You know I had a nice night-"

"No, that's not what I meant. You said you wanted me naked. And that's not exactly how it went down in the backseat," he chuckles, placing his hands on your hips.

You grin, inching into him. Your fingers work quickly to unbutton his shirt, pausing only to place small kisses along his broad chest before you help him out of the shirt. You trace the taut muscles of his stomach and linger at the indentations of his V cut. Antonio smirks, knowing how much you admire that part of his body. You work at his belt and slide his dress pants and boxers down his leg. He steps out of them and kicks them off to the side. Your hands reach behind, gripping his tight buttocks. You groan, appreciatively.

Antonio moves to slip you out of your dress, but you playfully swat his hand away.

"Not yet," you say, biting down on your lip as you gaze at him.

"Like what you see?" He quips rather smugly.

"Maybe," you tease.

"Maybe? Alright, you, come here." Antonio grabs your wrist and spins you around and you giggle. He unzips your dress, pushes it off your shoulders, and watches it fall to the floor. He then unhooks your bra. Finally, he slides your underwear down, lightly smacking your bare ass in jest. Gently, he turns you back around so you're facing him again. He takes in the sight of you. "You're breathtaking," he whispers before his lips crash down on yours. With ease and care, he lifts you off your feet. Your legs wrap around him and Antonio takes you to the bed.

The moment you two shared in the back seat of the SUV was about instant gratification. It was fast, and hot, and had you both feeling like kids sneaking around.

This was something different entirely. It was slow. Intimate. Intoxicating.

...Girl you got to understand, It's the way that I love you, let me show you I'm your man

Antonio explores every inch of your body with his hands and mouth. Squeezing, massaging, sucking, kissing. Every touch ignites you. The sounds of pleasure escaping you are enough to push Antonio over the edge, but he prolongs his own climax.

It's not until you've succumbed to waves of pleasure brought on only by his mouth and fingers that he enters you. Slowly he pushes all of himself into you. His rhythm is steady. He takes time to build you back up and lets you finish another orgasm before he comes just seconds after you.

He rests his forehead against yours as both of you resume breathing normally. Antonio gives you a quick kiss before slowly pulling out of you. He heads to the bathroom to clean up. When he returns you're still in bed with the sheet covering your naked body. Antonio, wearing only his boxers, slides into bed next to you, placing a soft kiss on your bare shoulder. You look up at him through your lashes and give him a warm smile. In a comfortable silence, you lay in his arms.

A few minutes pass and you begrudgingly sit up, knowing you need to clean yourself. A coy grin dances on your lips as you look at Antonio.

"Rest up, papi. Then come join me in the shower," you whisper before disappearing into the bathroom.

You run the hot water, getting the temperature just right before stepping into the oversized glass shower.

I don't want the sun to shine I want to make love. Just this magic in your eyes and in my heart

Minutes later, Antonio joins you in the shower. His lips immediately attach themselves to your neck. His hands massage your breasts. You lean into him basking in his touch. Antonio locks eyes with you, gives you a long, sensual kiss before he turns you around…

I don't know what I'm gonna do I can't stop lovin' you I won't stop 'til break of dawn makin' love

You both lay in bed after some late snacking on junk food and soda from the vending machines. A movie plays on the flatscreen TV in front of you. You curl into Antonio. His hand roams over pajama clad butt.

"Antonio," you giggle. "We have plans tomorrow. We're going to the Met and have to go back to Central Park."

"I know," he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. "But I can't stop touching you, mi amor. The sun's not even up yet. I promise you will get a few hours of sleep in before our trip to the museum."

"Well," you muse. "If you promise…"

Antonio doesn't hesitate pulling you on top of him...

#antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson x you #antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson #chicago pd

172 notes · View notes

morgana-ren · 4 years ago

Text

Pale Imitation

The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

Rating: E

Warnings: Porn, Masturbation, Yandere, Stalker Shigaraki, Shigaraki is a total creep, Rough sex, Noncon Fantasy/Roleplay

Preemptive Note: Before you continue I just want to note: I'm not a sex worker but I have nothing but the highest regard and respect for them. What ensues in this story is pure kink and fantasy and is not meant to reinforce any harmful/mean stereotypes what so ever. My personal fantasy is degradation and I can't really seem to get off without it so it's a majority of what I write, but I swear to you it was not written with the intent to insult or hurt anyone in the profession! I realize the hardships endured by the men/women/NB/GN in the adult sex work profession and this is just intended to be a pure sexual fantasy and is by no means attempting to reinforce or normalize toxic behaviors in the workplace.

Bad wig? Check .

Poor voice imitation? Check .

Shoddy, unsealed makeup that sloughs off onto the unfortunate scene partner’s skin? Check .

All the tell-tale signs of a bad porno but with one distinct peculiarity that drew his interest.

You know, this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting to see when he settled in for his first nightly wank. The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He’s no stranger to the villain kink page. Tons of civilians indulged in their darker fantasies through their nighttime excursions below their pantyline, and being a villain himself, naturally he was curious. Most of it is about what he’d expect. Villains, ancient and new, participating in copulation of all sorts. Some of it is that extremely out of character slow and romantic pornography. Other times, strangely enough, it’s the villains themselves getting taken advantage of. Sometimes by heroes, other times by random people, objects, or even tentacles. It’s interesting, to say the least.

Him though? He’d never seen himself in one, let alone being featured on the front page.

Up until recently, the media and all it’s sinful offshoots had opted to ignore him. However, his recent exploits must’ve caught the attention of the general public, and alongside it, the licentious denizens that dwell within. There had been a few forum posts, a little fan art (most of it flattering), and even a few oddly obsessive fangirls he’d come across. But this? Oh, now this was a whole new caliber.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

The guy they’d hired to play him was naturally a flat disappointment; Too bulky, and way too short. He could tell there was a classically handsome man underneath all that poorly done makeup that was meant to make him look pallid and dry. A sad, pathetic, and pale imitation of the real thing, missing some of his scars and moles entirely. The ashy gray wig they used to try to mimic his shaggy, unkempt hair had an awkward cowlick and kept flopping down too far on the actor’s forehead and looked far more dead than even his own unwashed mop. The voice he was using to mimic him was strained and scratchy, far too forced to be comfortable or even remotely realistic. If he had to place it, it sounded like the guy already had a terribly sore throat and had continued yelling for several hours to achieve the ‘desired’ effect.

He hadn’t expected much, but it was still disappointing. Though to be fair, they nailed the clothing, minus the brand of shoes he wears and the exact coat he’d chosen as his signature.

A part of him was ready to shut it off. Whatever lies ahead could only be utterly insulting, right? This grotesque pastiche lifelessly parroting his mannerisms was already curbing his sexual appetite toward something more violent, and not in the way he liked. Yet, out of sheer curiosity, he kept watching. What exactly did the average screenwriting porn cinematographer think he was into anyway?

It was a little ambiguous at first. At least until the shaky camera followed the Walmart brand Shigaraki knock-off down a generic hallway and into a borderline barren room, bringing into frame a quaking young woman tied up on a filthy mattress. After that, it became very quickly apparent just what type of smut he’d stumbled onto.

The camera zooms in on her face, tears leaking from her eyes and leaving trails of thick black makeup and mascara trailing down her cheeks, her begging and pleading muffled by a rag hastily stuffed in her mouth and secured with what appeared to be a bandana tied around her head. She’s clad in nothing but a flimsy tank top with the straps yanked down over her shoulders and a small pair of lace panties, covered in what appears to be made up lacerations and fake bruising. A nice touch, he notes.

He’ll admit, he’s intrigued now. It looks like they got one thing about him right, perhaps two now that he inspects the adult actress hired to play his unfortunate victim. She’s flattering, far more flattering than he expected given the low budget circumstances. Her watery eyes and quaking body coupled with the slight rope burn embedding into her chafing skin is enough to get his legs stirring and his pants tightening. She looks so pretty, so vulnerable behind all the waterworks and thick stage makeup. He thinks, just maybe, he might be able to get into this if he hyper focuses on her.

As his imposter approaches, she pushes her bound legs out, squishing herself back against the wall and as far away as she can manage from the threat encroaching on her personal space.

“Heroes can’t save you now.”

The shallow mockery of his voice grates at his ears, but he’ll admit the comment is on brand. The actor harshly yanks the bandana out of the woman’s mouth, her pouty lips trembling as she begins to grovel, blinking more tears down her swollen cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry! Please just let me go! I won’t tell anyone anything!”

All things considered, she’s convincing enough to get his blood pumping. Tomura readjusts himself in his chair, reaching his hands beneath the band of his sweatpants. If he can ignore her counterpart, he thinks watching her squirm and squeal will get him off. After all, it’s supposed to be ‘him’ violating this cute girl. Maybe if he defocuses his eyes enough, he can pretend it really is.

“I’m going to show you how much of a villain I really am!”

Ugh . Whoever wrote this dialogue clearly had never met him, or probably any real villain for that matter. It’s enough to make him want to retch, but the feel of his own hand on his cock and the soft whimpering of the actress as the villain stand-in strips off his coat brings him back and makes him throb. The camera moves in to offer her a close up, face dropping and eyes widening in horror as she comes to the “realization” of what he means.

“No! Please! Anything but that!”

She kicks at him, trying to fend him off with bound limbs as he crawls over her onto the bed. A harsh slap to the side of her cheek is enough to quiet her down and allow the assailant to cage her to the bed with one hand, the other clumsily fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. After he shimmies his ill fitting skinny jeans down his thighs, she looks at him with eyes widened in horror, shaking her head erratically.

“No! Please Mister Shigaraki, it’s too big! It won’t fit!”

A hand far too burly to be his wraps around her neck, pointer finger plucked awkwardly upward. “Quiet! You’re my prisoner and you’ll do as I say!”

Just ignore it.

The free hand goes to grab at her tank top, a brief but noticeable pause in the filming leaves her topless with stage prop ash sprinkled along her torso, the ropes around her wiggling legs conveniently gone now. While the cinematic effect was laughably bad, Tomura can’t bring himself to care. Not when her tits are now on display for him to ogle.

Chest bare and heaving, perfect nipples perked to attention just for him. Smooth, creamy skin goose pimpled and tender, so tempting that he's aching to feel her. A quick swipe of his thumb over his sensitive, spongy tip elicits a rumbled groan from deep in his chest. It’s easier now to ignore the shitty portrayal of himself, especially when he can lose himself to the throes of lust and pretend that it actually is his hands wrapped around her little throat, other fingers drifting lower and lower down her trembling belly.

A quick hook around the seam of her panties and they’re ripped clean from her hips, legs splayed and leaving her pussy center frame, already wet and glistening. He swallows hard, the sight enough to make him salivate. She fumbles around beneath him, desperate to buck him off, but it’s to no avail. Fingers, his fingers, tease the entrance to her tight little hole, slipping one finger, and then two inside, oscillating in and out preparing her to take all of him. Just like she said, he’s so big. He doesn’t want to hurt her, not like that.

After that, it’s all too easy for him to slip into his fantasy. He strokes his cock in tandem with the pumping of the fingers, pausing only briefly as the girl mewls as the fingers slip out and the tip of his cock is aligned with her little entrance. He pistons his own hips as it slams inside, head reeling back on the edge of his chair.

The high pitched whine that escapes her throat as the fake buries himself deep inside has him biting his lip, slowing his hand by force on his shaft. Fuck, even her moans are hot. Her bouncing tits and staggered breathing as his imposter rails into her has him enraptured. The subtle way she leans into the hand on her throat, back arched off the filthy mattress, face expressing clear distress but body betraying her clever act.

It matters little that she’s being paid to partake in the scene with ‘him’. The fact she was open to it says more than he could have hoped to know, and clearly she’s enjoying the treatment. His hazy eyes focus in on her face, working his hand harder with every little nuance she gifts him. The twitch of arms as her nails imbed themselves into her palms, the parting of her moist lips. He’d be willing to bet her tongue could work magic, taking him all the way to the back of her throat. God, she’d look so cute like that. Hands tied behind her back, a sloppy, drooling mess around his dick.

“S-Shigaraki! You’re too rough!”

The hand clamped around her throat tightens, her final word more of a croak.

“You like it, you little slut!”

At least there’s one thing him and this mediocre porn actor can agree on; she certainly does like it. Rolling her hips against him and wailing in a way that has him wonderfully immersed in his fantasy. Hearing his name on those sighs only strengthen his hold, he can practically feel the warmth of her skin, indulge himself in the wet, clenching tightness of her cunt.

It’s fucking insulting that this trash gets to wear his skin, steal his countenance to fuck her. It should be him. If this whelp could get her all hot and bothered, just imagining what the real thing could do sends the remaining blood reserves rushing between his thighs, prick pulsing even harder in his palm. Yeah, he could get this little bitch squealing. She’d fucking like it too, judging by the look on her face as she gets plowed by a man wearing his visage.

Oh, he’d make her scream. Leave real bruising in place of that cheap costume makeup they’d so lazily applied to her naked form. Truth be told, the video itself was rather boring. He’d only kept watching because of how enraptured he was with the little witch being stuffed full of cock by his imitation. He’d never really been taken with an adult actress before but this one? Oh yes, he could really get into her.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her. So pretty to him, so deliciously pliable, so completely worked up about a villain using her as a toy, pumping in and out of her warm little pussy until he fills her with his hot cum and she’s overflowing with every fluid thrust. Sweet, sensitive neck exposed just for him to bite and abuse. Face stained with tears, puffy cheeks just aching to be squeezed and smacked. Probably tastes like rapture, eager to swallow whatever he decides to spill into her mouth.

And she could take it. He just knows it. Bent over for him, any hole he pleases free for him to use, hand-shaped welts raising on the swell of her ass. Fingers fisting her hair and arching that cute face back to look directly at him as he spits between her open and waiting lips. She’d swallow it like a good girl, just like a good girl, he knows she would.

He works himself faster, his own breathy whines joining the cacophony of licentiousness that echoes in his eardrums. His imagination shifts into overdrive, clumsy, irregular strokes of his hand tenting and deflating the crotch of his sweats. Soft, pillowy tits bulging through his fingertips as he kneads them, sucking on those tender nipples until they harden just for him. Fucking her mouth until her lips are swollen and red, face covered in a mixture of drool and cum with lipstick smeared around her cheeks. Legs locked around his narrow waist as he slams into her repeatedly, chanting his name and begging him incoherently not to stop, never to stop.

“P-please don’t cum inside me! Please- I-“

Oh, he’d cum deep inside. He’ll cum anywhere he wants on his little whore until it’s slick and dripping. He’ll tie her up, smudging it across her broken expression and let it dry nice and thick. Slip his cum covered thumb into her mouth and then ignore her until her thighs are grinding together and she’s begging for his thick cock again, any way he wants her.

Fuck- fuck she’d love it too. Ride him until each slap of her ass on his bony hips made his cock punch hard against her cervix, crying in pleasure and pain but never stopping until he allowed her. Dig his nails into her back, his teeth into her flesh and mark her up real good, let everyone who sees her know just what she’s been up to with him-

“Shigaraki! Fuck! Shi-Shigaraki!”

His name spills from her lips in a needy sob, voice cracking and so utterly genuine that it sends him over the edge. His cock throbs and stutters in his hand, shooting jets of sticky white seed all over the inside of his black sweat pants and staining his fingers. His entire body shudders, legs stiffening and balls tightening and clenching as his cum spills in fat ropes across the fabric. Try as he might to focus on her face as she cums for him, he simply can’t, eyes slamming shut and mouth left agape as a strangled cry erupts from his throat.

He gives a few subconscious pumps into his hand as searing pleasure crackles through his body, toes curling in his shoes as his lower body lifts off the chair to chase his high. Millions of images flash across his mind, the foremost of which is her, greedy eyes hungry for pleasure only he can give her, silky cunt milking him eagerly. A jagged tooth bites a little too hard into his blistered lip, enough to crack it open but he’s too submerged in bliss to notice. The only thing he can feel is her.

His thighs tremble as his body falls back down into the worn computer chair, orgasm leaving his entire body feeling weak and drained. His breath comes in heaves, gulping down air as he tries his best to shake off the residual searing pleasure so hot it almost hurts. Overstimulation looms on the horizon and his heavy eyes drift open, feeling so drowsy now he can hardly keep them apart. The orange bar at the bottom of the video is all the way to the right, the video having concluded itself.

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

Her name. He needed to know her name. He needed to know everything .

He doesn’t bother reaching for the tissues. He simply withdraws his hand from his waistband, wiping his mess onto the knee of his pant leg before grabbing his mouse and scouring the page for any crumb of information he can find. The comments, while amusing, are hardly helpful.

So hot xx thanks

Who’s the guy even supposed to be?

This babe is so hot, luv her stuff everytime

Yall r gunna get rekt when he sees this shit lol

any sexy girls wanna reenact this with me? Hmu

I’m a girl and I love this!

Wish he’d do that to me <.<

He’d dwell on all of that later. For now, he settles for a quick search through the uploader’s account. It’s a small studio, only a few films out to date, most of which revolve around taboo relationships between villains and society. Following a hyperlink to their main website leads him to bio, complete with her stage name and picture, and even another link leading to an interview with a small time adult magazine, an article called “Cum to the Dark Side” that he bookmarks for later reading.

Even post-cum, she’s just as beautiful. Enchanting, sultry smile and cheeky little expression in her picture. Maybe it’s fate that he stumbled upon her. Maybe she really was just that good at acting and she didn’t have a thing for him at all. Either way, he wants some time with the talent. For research, of course.

Her personal details, as expected, are hidden. They go the lengths to protect their employees it seems. What isn’t hidden, however, is the studio’s number.

He thinks he can work with that.

#NSFT #shigaraki x reader #tw adult stuff #tw yandere #tw uhh self love #tw stalker behavior #Part 1 #tw noncon roleplay

234 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 3 years ago

Text

North of Zero (20/23)

Tags and the work in its entirety can be found here.

As soon as William felt the firmness of a floor under him, the all encompassing brightness that surrounded them cut out and they were plunged into darkness. He blinked hard several times until his eyes began to adjust to the dim glow of ambient light on the ship. The pins and needles feeling that began when he’d been sitting in the chair in front of the fire with the Preacher standing over him was fading and the feeling and control of his arms and legs started to come back to him. He glanced to his side and saw both of his parents sitting up, blinking hard. Mulder’s arm slipped as he tried to get up. William thought perhaps he himself was recovering more quickly from whatever the Preacher had used to drug them.

The woman Elaine and the wiry little man Ezekiel who had accompanied them on the ship were standing near Scully, looking around themselves at the ship in awe.

The room they were in was made entirely of a soft kind of metal that gave off a dull glow. It looked like they were standing just off to the side of the bridge of the ship – at the front of the room stood a long console that came up out of the floor and was a darker material than the rest.

Standing at the console were three people – voids , William thought immediately – super soldiers – one of whom stepped away and turned to look at the new arrivals. Each of the super soldiers was dressed differently – the man who turned to look at them was bald, in jeans and a plain black tee shirt. The other man – tall, with a shaggy black beard, was in grubby cargo pants and a gray Patagonia fleece. The last void was a thin, young woman with blonde hair in a messy bun, and was dressed in black leggings with a pink zip-up athletic shirt. Her shoes, bright white sneakers with hot pink laces, were splattered with a dark brown stain that William thought was probably blood.

The bald super soldier who turned took a step forward toward them. The Preacher alien, no longer wearing a false beatific smile, came around to stand in front of the soldier.

“Head for the rendezvous point,” the Preacher said.

The soldier turned back to the console, and William could feel the centrifugal force of the ship turning in the sky.

Beside William, Scully groaned and shook out her hands as if they had water on them. On his other side, Mulder got woozily to his feet. William stood too, and put a steadying hand on Mulder’s shoulder until he was sure his father wasn’t going to fall over and then William turned and helped Scully to stand. She winced and William looked at her in concern.

“Pins and needles,” she explained, and lifted one foot to rotate her ankle.

Elaine, standing on Scully’s other side, reached out kindly to steady her.

“Is this…” the woman said meekly, “is this the way to the Gods’ Kingdom?”

Scully opened her mouth and gave her head a little shake, unsure of what to say.

The bald super soldier turned away from the console again and looked to the Preacher.

“What would you like us to do with the abductees?” he asked, moving to stand in front of them. Elaine, whom he was closest to, took a small step back.

The Preacher alien turned to look at them.

“Lock these three up,” he said, pointing at Scully, Mulder and William. “The boy needs to be incapacitated. The parents we need to study.”

“Dissection protocol?” the soldier asked.

“Everything,” said the Preacher.

William felt his insides go liquid with fear.

“What about the others?” the soldier asked, pointing to Ezekiel and Elaine.

“Kill them,” the Preacher said, turning away, “they can be turned.”

There was a blur of motion. Before William could compose another thought, he looked up and the super soldier's arm was wrist deep in Ezekiel’s stomach, a flower of blood blossoming on the man’s shirt around the soldier’s hand. Ezekiel looked down at himself in shock, opened his mouth as if to say something and then the soldier pulled his hand back, covered in pulpy blood, and Ezekiel crumpled to the floor, dead.

Then the soldier turned to the woman Elaine, who, looking terrified, took a stumbling step backward.

“Wait-” Mulder said, at the same time that Scully shouted “NO!” and as quickly as it had happened with Ezekiel, now time seemed to slow to a honeyed drip.

The soldier pulled back his bloody arm, his dripping fingers extended, his hand stiff as a blade, and then it shot forward. At the same time, Scully – the word “no” still on her tongue, made a clumsy move to either block Elaine or move her out of the way – and William watched as the soldier’s knife-like hand plunged itself deep in the side of his mother’s torso.

Time skipped forward and caught up to itself.

Scully slumped to the floor of the ship. Mulder, screaming her name, scrambled toward her side.

William, watching it all play out in horror, felt a rage bubble up inside of him so overwhelming and intense that he felt almost incandescent with it. Then the rage itself vectored within his chest, giving birth to a feeling of power so acute that he could feel it vibrating inside of him and crackling like electricity along the whole of his skin. He took a deep breath, balled his hands into half-fisted claws, and let it loose.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder, screaming her name, dove to Scully’s side. Blood was pouring from a hole in her flank, and, not knowing what else to do, Mulder held both hands to it, trying to stem the flow.

“Scully?” he said, desperately.

The ship shivered under him, and he looked up. William was standing a few feet away, feet braced, head low, hands in front of himself like he was holding a big box, but there was an energy sizzling through him which Mulder could feel from where he kneeled. When he looked to William’s eyes, the boy’s pupils were blown, the whole of his eyes almost black.

The super soldier who had just killed Ezekiel and probably Scully too, went flying through the air, end over end until he hit the side of the ship with a gross thud. He stayed, upside-down, pinned to the wall, eyes wide. When the other two soldiers turned to look at their compatriot, they went flying as well.

The Preacher alien turned on his heels and watched, a look of curious amazement on his face. Until William turned his gaze to him.

“You,” William hissed, his voice low and menacing. And then he shot out his hand and the Preacher went flying backwards, hitting the wall of the ship with a sickening thud. He too stayed pinned to it, but something odd was happening to the Preacher, Mulder could see it. He was pushed to the wall as if riding the Gravitron spinner at a county fair, but he was being pressed into the metal so hard that his skin started migrating toward the wall too, like candle wax dripping onto the table beneath it. He looked as though he were melting, his eyes bulging, the shape of his head taking on a curious triangle quality.

The ship shivered again, harder, making a groaning sound and Mulder could hear the woman Elaine whimpering from behind him. The ship pitched sideways, and William’s other hand shot out and Mulder felt an odd sense of weightlessness.

A high whine started buzzing through the air, getting louder and lower until William screamed, an ear-splitting, soul-shaking sound, and the ship under them began shaking, rattling, the terrible groans of metal being ripped apart tore through the air, and all the while, Mulder, his hot, blood-wet hands still pressed to Scully’s body, felt nothing.

He looked through the turbulent air and saw the three super soldiers turn the color of lead and then burst into dust before his eyes. The metal behind the melting vizage of the Preacher peeled back until daylight wret through the opening and the alien was sucked out the hole where he atomized into a green mist and then was gone.

A moment of shaking, bone-rattling turbulence, and then the ship hit the earth. A massive concussive reverb shook the ship around them, but Mulder felt none of it. Scully, laying prone beneath him, didn’t move. William stood before him, breathing hard, his body still tense and strumming with energy, as steady as a rock. And then there was nothing but dust and silence.

William stood up straight and shook his head as if coming out of a trance.

Beneath Mulder’s hands, Scully made a strangled sound, and his attention whipped back to her. Her mouth was open, and he instantly knew that she was struggling to breathe. Her throat gurgling, she coughed once and blood came spewing out of her mouth.

William whirled around, his eyes widening at the sight of Scully on the floor of the fallen ship. He lurched forward and slid to his knees at her other side. He gave a long, scanning look over the length of her and then took a deep, calming breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder.

“Scully,” William said calmly, and Mulder, for only a moment, pulled his eyes away from the love of his life to look once more at their son, his hands still clamped over her torso where he could feel the slight pull from a sucking chest wound. “Scully, look at me,” William called to her again.

Scully, gasping for breath like one of the fish they had pulled up out of Green Lake, the choking sound from her throat a gurgling, bubbling mess, could only stare up at the ceiling of the ship, one of her hands reaching blindly out to the side to slap into Mulder’s arm.

“Mom?” William said then, his voice filled with such tenderness that passing angels would have stopped to listen to him. “Mom, I need you to look at me.”

Scully turned her head slowly toward her son.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered to her.

Scully’s bloodshot eyes fluttered shut and Mulder could feel tears come to his own. William reached out and gently placed the finger and thumb of his right hand across her eyes to rest on her temples. Mulder felt something break apart in his chest. It looked like the boy was administering last rites.

“Be with me,” the boy said, his own eyes sliding closed. The blood seeping around Mulder’s fingers began to slow. “Be with me,” he whispered again.

Beneath Mulder’s hands, the suction of her wound loosened. He felt a pang of agony he’d not felt in close to twenty years — at her bedside when she was dying of cancer and he didn’t think she’d last the night.

“Be with me, Mom.”

Time slowed. The angels held their breath. Mulder could feel every cell in his body call out to a God he didn’t believe in. Scully’s God. Ezekiel’s. Any God who would listen.

And then something miraculous happened. Something was going on under Mulder’s gummy, bloody fingers. He pulled his hands back from her and watched, transfixed, as the gaping wound began to close. The spilled blood creeped back into her body, tissue reformed slowly before his eyes, slashed ribbons of skin reached toward each other and melded back into perfect smoothness.

“You’re with me,” William said, slowly opening his eyes, smiling, his hand still on her forehead. “I have you.”

Life knit itself back together before Mulder’s eyes.

Scully’s back lifted up off the ground and she took a massive inhalation, the wretched gurgling sound gone from her breathing, replaced by clear, regular breaths. William removed his hand from her temples and she turned her head to look at Mulder, her eyes bright, full of life. He launched himself at her, clutching her to his chest.

“Scully! God!”

After a moment he looked up, watched as William watched them, a small smile on his face. Not letting go of Scully, Mulder reached out and gripped the boy’s shoulder hard, pulling him into their embrace.

“The Mother Immortal!” came a shaky whisper from behind them and Mulder turned his head to see Elaine, whom he’d completely forgotten about, on her knees, looking at them worshipfully.

He eventually learned to avoid the carrion birds.

A kettle of vultures, a murder of crows; nothing good could be found where they landed, and he’d seen darkness enough.

He awoke one morning to raucous cawing from the trees above. The sun had been up for a while but his blanket was stiff with frost and he’d dreamt he was drowning in a dark, viscous lake, slippery frigid hands pulling him under. He was cold, stiff with ague and not looking forward to the turkey jerky that awaited him for breakfast, the bulk package long since expired and as flavorless as hardtack.

Ravens hopped from one branch to another above him, eying him with intrigue, and he groaned, stretching.

“Shut up!” he called to the birds, rolling to his knees on the hard ground. “I’m not dead yet,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. He had yet to shake off the slippery darkness of his dream.

The night before, on the highway, he’d encountered a wolf pack of abandoned cars, doors open like the passengers had only just stepped out and odd black pools of the substance he’d started thinking of as anti-matter sitting scattered about the highway amongst the ghostly carapaces of the vehicles. He’d come upon the pools before, with Dan, who avoided them like the plague but couldn’t tell William why. The pools were always inert, dead. On the surface nothing he would normally associate with even being a biological entity. But the thing was, even sitting there, still as the concrete they sat on, he could sense their sinister intent. Or an echo of it. Dan used to take one look, turn to William, say “bad fucking juju, dude,” and keep walking.

He groaned again and the ravens above him took off all at once, wingbeats fluttering the red and gold leaves of the autumn canopy.

He kicked dirt onto what remained of the glowing embers of his campfire and folded up his blankets to tie them to the bottom of his pack which he shouldered, pulling out a hunk of jerky to chew on while he walked. He stamped his boots into the ground to kick some feeling into his feet and headed north.

The area he was in now was flat country, pocked with overgrown fields of barley and soy, cut through by the highway he’d been traveling along the night before. He tuned in briefly to the homing beacon in his head, then adjusted course slightly, turning to crest a small rise – the sum total of the elevation in probably the whole county. He got to the top and looked down and was met with an unending line of the brown husks of corn that hadn’t been cut back for winter the year before, their wide flat leaves rattling in the breeze.

He hated corn fields. Hated the way the sharp leaves grabbed and sliced at you when you walked through them, hated the way you could get so easily turned around amongst the stalks. The worst thing – what he hated most – was how it always felt like someone was just beyond the next row, how anyone or anything could be hiding there in the impenetrable wall of green or brown. Even when he knew there wasn’t anyone there, when he opened up his senses and didn’t feel anyone near him, he still had to steel his nerves before stepping in amongst the stalks.

The field itself looked to be acres long and acres wide, and he stepped in and walked fast, longing for the journey to be over. Overhead, the ravens were back, wheeling through the air and looking at him with sharp eyes, flying up ahead and then riding the air currents back, keeping pace with him. It was unnerving, the sun glinting off their glossy feathers reminding him of his dream from the night before.

When he was certain he was getting to the end of the field, when he couldn’t stand walking anymore, he began to run, and the cutting, fibrous leaves clutched at him, pulling on his clothes and pack. Without any warning, he burst through the last line of maize, stumbling into the open, startling a rafter of turkeys that had been grazing on the field’s edge, and they fluttered off into the trees beyond the field voicing their displeasure.

Above him, the ravens settled into the tops of the trees. He glared at them uncomfortably and tightened the straps of his knapsack, pulling it tight to his shoulders as he set off into the woods.

He was about fifty yards in when he heard it; the unnerving out-of-place sound of someone quietly crying.

He closed his eyes and sensed the presence of a single person – human – a little way to the north and west. He stepped carefully through the leafy ground, trying not to make any sound when he walked. After about forty feet, he saw her.

There was a girl of nine or ten sitting on a log next to a game trail. She had on red leggings, dirty at the knees, a pair of boots that were several sizes too big for her, and a tatty pink and purple winter coat, torn at one elbow, white fibrous batting showing through the tear. She wiped her eyes and nose noisily and that’s when William saw what lay at her feet.

A small Irish setter, the same color as the layer of red/brown leaves that carpeted the floor of the forest was lying awkwardly on the ground, its front paw bent unnaturally where a large steel hunting trap had snapped around its leg. It whimpered and William involuntarily gasped.

The girl looked up and stood, frightened, poised to take off running. William could see the tracks of tears that cut through the dirt on her face.

He held up a hand. “I won’t hurt you,” he said.

The girl looked at him warily.

“What happened?” he asked.

The child’s face wilted.

“It’s my dog Jessie,” she said, starting to cry again, “she got caught in this trap and she’s really hurt!”

William stepped forward and the dog lifted its head weakly, sniffing at the air, leaves and burrs and bits of plant caught in the stringy fur of her ears.

“You can’t get it off?” he asked, approaching them cautiously.

The girl shook her head.

“I know I should go get my dad, but he’s going to say we have to put her down. Her leg is broke! Look!”

William got closer and walked around the pair, giving them a few feet of space. He looked at the big metal trap, which didn’t have teeth like the ones he’d seen in the movies, but the jaws of it were clamped tight and he could see a trickle of blood soaking into the poor dog’s fur. The leg was definitely broken.

He kneeled down on the girl’s other side to take a closer look. The dog turned toward him, whimpering a bit, the chain of the trap clinking when she moved.

“Maybe I can get it off her,” he said after a moment, looking at how the thing was made. He’d never be able to pry it loose using brute strength, but if he used his powers – subtly, so the girl didn’t see – he was pretty sure he could do it.

“Really?” the girl said, running the back of her hand under her nose, smearing mucus and dirt onto her cheek.

“Maybe,” William said, moving a little closer to the animal. “Her name’s Jessie?”

The girl nodded.

“What’s your name?” he asked, “I’m William.”

“Katie,” the girl said, sniffing again.

“Do you think Jessie will bite me if I get too close, Katie?”

“No!” Katie said, falling to her knees right next to the dog and petting her head. “She’s a really good dog!”

William wasn’t so sure – he was pretty sure he’d bite somebody if he found himself hurt and trapped like this, but he took Katie’s word for it and eased himself down onto his knees right in front of the trap.

“Katie, can you get me a stick? A thick one? Like about this big?” he pinched together his finger and thumb, showing her what to grab.

“Yes!” she said happily, and then stood and darted away, scouring the forest floor for the perfect tool.

William reached out and touched the dog’s head, who turned to look at him with watery, sad eyes. She gave a low short growl, which ended in a whimper and dropped her head back to the forest floor.

“Shh,” William said, “it’s okay.” He considered the trap in front of him, feeling it out with his mind. He pictured the two bars prying apart and gave them an experimental mental tug. The coiled force holding them together was very tight, but it gave a few centimeters. Jessie whimpered and tried to sit up.

“No, shh, stay,” William said quickly, and the dog settled back down.

“I got one!” Katie called out triumphantly and came running back up to them waving a thick stick in the air.

William put his hand out to receive it, but Katie was coming in fast and his angle was wrong and when he grabbed at it, the sharp end of the stick sunk into his palm. He cried out once and then shook out his hand – he could see a line of blood running over the base of his thumb.

“I’m sorry!” Katie said, horrified.

“No, it’s okay,” William assured her, giving her a tight smile. “It just poked me is all. Can you give it here?”

Katie handed the thick stick over and William turned back to the trap. He gave the mouth of it one more mental tug and he shoved the stick in between the bars and pretended to pry them with the stick, all the while yanking on them hard with his mind. A moment later the trap snapped open and Jessie pulled her leg limply out of it, rolling onto her side. William threw the trap uselessly away and Katie shouted in joy.

“You did it!” she said, impulsively hugging Will once around the neck before she turned back to her dog.

William looked down at his injured palm and sucked the blood away, then watched as his skin slowly knitted itself back together, good as new. Little injuries like that were easy – his body took care of them on its own, but bigger ones, like the time he’d gotten his finger closed in the car door at school drop-off – healing that took a bit of concentration. He’d zoned out for most of the first fifteen minutes of school that day, finding the place in his mind he thought of as The Healing Place and feeling what it was like to knit together tissue and mend a miniature fracture in bone.

Katie was kneeling by Jessie’s head, and she began to cry again.

“Oh my god,” she wailed, “look at her leg!”

William glanced over and winced – it was bent at an unnatural angle and looked heinously painful. He looked back at his hand and wondered…

He reached out and ran a hand along Jessie’s head, petting the dog gently, talking to her in a calm voice. With his mind, he reached out to feel inside of her, down her neck, around her shoulder, then there- he could feel what the dog’s body was trying to do.

“Hey Katie,” he said. The girl looked up. “This might not be so bad. Do you think you can go find a couple more sticks? Two or three of them, about the same thickness and length? Maybe I can splint it.”

Katie nodded and shot off into the woods, and William turned his full attention back to the dog. He reached inside with his mind. The dog, sensing something odd, again tried to get up, but William put his other hand on the dog’s side and held her firmly.

“It’s okay, Jessie,” he said, closing his eyes, “stay here with me, girl. Be with me.”

The dog calmed and her body stopped fighting him and began showing him what it wanted him to do. It took concentration and a few fits and starts, but then the healing began to flow between him and the dog and the process rushed ahead, increasing in pace as he got the hang of it — tissue mending itself, the bone calcifying itself back together.

After a while, he opened his eyes. The dog’s leg was healed, its fur still wet with blood, but whole and straight again. From above them came the indignant call of a raven. William looked up and saw dozens of them perched on the trees above. Then they burst into flight, disappearing into the sky above the canopy.

Jessie rolled up to a sitting position and sniffed at her fur, giving it a few licks, and then she stood, putting her weight on it. All at once, her tail started wagging madly and she jumped up and licked his face. He laughed and pushed her gently away, standing.

“Hey Katie!” he shouted, “don’t worry about the sticks! I think her leg is okay!”

Katie came crashing through the brush and rushed up to him, looking down at her dog, amazed, then fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around the animal’s neck, burying her face blissfully into the silky auburn fur.

When she turned to William, her face was shining with happiness.

“I can’t wait to tell my dad!” she said, standing up.

William gave her a small smile, a prickle of discomfort creeping up his neck.

“Come on! Come with us!” she said, taking a few steps west, Jessie happily bounding at her side. “We’ve got food and a camper!”

William swung his knapsack onto his back and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat.

“I need to go my way,” he told the girl, and then turned and headed north. Behind him, a single black feather – dark as night, glossy as oil – drifted to the earth where he’d stood.

#The X-Files #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #MSR #Post-Colonization #North of Zero

10 notes · View notes

lostonehero · 3 years ago

Text

Becoming less human

It was a week after the near end of the world by two men who had good intentions but no common sense. The teams Aqua and Magma merged and started on trying to help without the use of extreme measures. Both teams thankfully were pardoned and nobody died, but the orbs the orbs were absorbed into both leaders flesh, and as far as anyone knows nothing came of it except the two leaders getting together.

Maxie gave a frustrated sigh as he tried to put his shoe on again, for some reason it felt too small. He was 35 he was well past growing stuck at 5ft 5in for the rest of his life. He never complained though his height never defined him, and he could beat Archie in a fist fight no problem, growing up in a orphanage where everyone hated would make someone tough. Granted Archie would never admit to loosing, well it wasn't like anyone would belive Maxie either to the world he was a weak skinny nerd. He wore the long sleeves and stocking to cover up scars from past abuse he didn't want to show the world.

"Leader Maxie? I mean Maxie." Tabitha stutters out.

Maxie sighs "Archie isn't in here Tabitha." He heard a sigh of relief as his former admin walked in. "And I told you you didn't have to stay, you can get a better job and not be stuck with the crazy man who almost ended the world." He cursed under his breath again and tossed his shoes to the side.

"Le- Maxie I want to help with your new vision, and even if it involves Aqua what you have drawn out is pretty amazing sir...." he trails off as he watches Maxie. "Sir are you alright."

Maxie sighs. "I think I must of hurt my feet and they are swollen my shoes seem too tight." His feet look perfectly fine except for his nails that look like they are turning black.

"Oh I see do you want me to call for a doctor?"

"No Tabitha I'm fine I'll just steal Archie's shoes he left here." Maxie sighs seeing Tabitha scowl at the former Aqua leader. "I don't need you judging my love life Tabitha."

Tabitha huffs. "You can do better sir."

"Tabitha I appreciate the sentiment but I'm pretty hated right now."

"W-well you are still liked."

"I know you have feelings for Matt, and besides I'm 10 years older then you and Courtney so my answer would still be no."

Tabitha tries to hide his red face, Maxie knew him too well at this point. "R-Right sir uh today is your day off I came to remind you no work."

Maxie curses under his breath Tabitha knew him well as well. "Right very well then I think I'll visit Archie."

Tabitha sighs but didn't argue he knew Maxie wouldn't overwork himself around that pirate.

.......

"If you keep staring at your hands I will smack the back of your head Archie." Shelly huffed

Archie was in casual clothes and nit his wet suit today. He felt naked without it on, but fir some reason his gloves couldn't go all the way down, and it seemed as if the webbing on his fingers had gotten deeper and his nails longer. He kept thinking back to the blue orb absorbing into his skin filing his blood with ice and the legendary beast staring at him seemingly to say "you survived you'll be rewarded" he really didn't know why that was in his head. He even asked Maxie about it and he said the same thing when in regards to his encounter.

"Archibald you're boyfriend is here." Shelly sneered rolling her eyes.

Archie sighs and gives a look to Shelly and she just raises her hands and left. Archie knew Shelly hated Maxie, and he knew Shelly didn't approve but he made him happy.

"Archie? Are you alright." Maxie asks as he plops down into a chair wearing longs sleeves and pants.

Archie frowns he knew the real reason why Maxie covered up and hell it had been only a short time but he wish he could see more of him more often then the bedroom. He shook his head. "I don't know I couldn't put on my gloves today."

Maxie leans back. "Funny I couldn't put on my shoes today I had to wear yours, well the pair you forgot to get when Courtney chased you put of my bedroom."

Archie grimaced at the memory but looked confused. "Maxie I'm like three sizes bigger then you how have you not tripped?"

"They fit perfectly." Macie says calmly but his shaking hands gave him away. "Is this the reward." He whispered fear lacing his tone.

Archie has never seen Maxie truly scared, sure he had startled him but the man was ready to punch him in the face rather then run away. His nerves were starting to eat away at his confidence. "I-i don't know Max. Are we taking there place?"

Maxie shivers. "I never wanted that, I don't think I could stand to loose you now." He frowns. "Could I stay with you tonight...." he trails off.

Archie nods frowning, Maxie never asked he always just stayed and was so dominate in his ways. He decided he didn't like seeing Maxie scared. "Have you gone back to..." he didn't finish his sentence when Maxie looked him in the eye.

"Yes once, it was for closure to make sure they were gone...." he stopped seemingly recalling something. "I heard something though."

"What?"

"Uh I think you've been blessed by the gods your body will change to accept it.... I thought I was just hearing things." He looked down biting his lip.

Archie sighs and looks at Maxie. "I don't want to talk about this anymore..."

"Neither do I." Maxie gets up and offers Archie his hand. "Shall we get some ice cream and try to forget with bad movies."

Archie smiled softly nodding getting up. "Aye that sounds great."

.....3 months later.....

Maxie tried to wrestle Archie's shoes onto his feet but he had little to no luck, it's been months and he was comfortable wearing them this was like being a teenager in a growthspurt all over. "Fuck this!" he threw the shoes across the room and finally noticed his pants were short that doused his frustration with fear.

Archie rushed in right out of the shower his towel haphazardly around his waist. "Maxie are you alright."

Maxie in a quiet voice. "My pants are too short and slightly tight."

Archie furrows his brow and actually looks down and to his astonishment Maxie was right. "I know you've gained weight Maxie, but uh you gained height."

Maxie sighs. "I thought it was I eating more I gained weight, and I didn't mind that but.... but " he stops and takes a deep breath. "Archie we never did stop did we?"

"My legs aren't fusing if that's what your asking." Archie tried to joke but he was starting to get scared too.

Maxie sat down on the bed. "I need to get new clothes." He sighs laying down. "We probably should tell Steven."

Archie frowns and moves to lay down next to him. "Maybe we should start with our former admins, or current ones they really never stopped doing their jobs."

"I don't know which one would be worse." Maxie chuckles covering his face. "Tabithia and Courtney will be the worse mother hens."

"You think that's bad Matt once carried me to bed when I had the sniffles." Archie gives a small laugh.

"When did our lives get so messed up? Wait don't answer that I know why." Maxie huffs looking at Archie.

Archie couldn't hold it in and started to laugh.

Maxie threw a pillow at him.

..... 6 months later......

Archie frowns looking at the large blanket Matt bought for him and Maxie. "Is this really necessary? Maxie only grew 6inches."

"Bro you need to think long term, you're changing too." Matt puffs out his chest. "Even if you become another kyoger I want to make sure you're warm."

Archie sighs scratching his beard. "I don't think that's what I'm becoming Matt, but uh thanks." Matt was like his brother, he was just a tad over protective.

Matt shakes his head. "No matter what happens Archie I will be by your side no matter what."

Archie smiles softly. "Thanks Matt, but uh I think we are good on blankets, Maxie is like a furnace..."

"Does he have a fever, I know I was rude and mean when you started dating but he really loves you can I help?" Matt rattles off

Archie chuckles. "No Bro like how my body temperature lowered Maxie's went up."

"Ohhh ok so you guys cancel each other out just like them. Maybe they are dating too."

Archie covers his face with his hands trying to get that image put of his head as Matt rattles on about the many plans he has to help.

.....4 months later.....

"This is insulting at this point." Archie huffs laying on his stomach.

Maxie matching Archie's position. "I didn't want a tail either but here we are. It's not even fully formed yet and it's so sensitive." He sighs. "I honestly thought you would be upset because I'm taller then you now."

"Not gonna lie Max that kinds of turns me on." Archie chuckles hearing Maxie scoff.

"We aren't even entirely human anymore and you are thinking about bedroom activities." He tries and fails to look offended. "I can't say it hasn't crossed my mind Archie but I want to wait till we are done changing."

"Agreed, so how are your feet doing I know they were killing you." Archie hums trying to keep conversation to distract from the pain.

Maxie looks away. "Scales and bone spur on my heel...they feel a lot better but I'm worried I might hurt you while we sleep."

Archie has wide eyes. "Matching your claws."

Maxie looks back raising his brow. "Seriously Archie? What about your neck?"

"Gills got matching ones on my waist as well, I don't need my wetsuit anymore." He smiles.

Maxie smiles "swimming with Bruce is in your future right." He grimaced as a soft crack is heard. "F-fun with your p-pokemon."

Archie held onto Maxie's hand. "Its ok you don't need to be tough around me I love you."

Maxie held on tightly to Archie's hand. "I love you too." It was the first time they exchanged those words.

....1 month later....

Archie was chasing down Maxie with a bucket of soapy water. "Maxie I swear to arceus that you need to stop you're shedding let me help."

"Fuck off Archie, and leave that fucking hell brush in the trash." Maxie growls a red glowed from his eyes.

"Maxie it's just a brush stop being a baby." Archie tries to tackle him but misses. "I swear I will call Courtney and Tabitha."

"You wouldn't dare." Maxie hisses.

"I would you human lizard just get in the medicated bath." Archie crosses his arms.

Maxie grumbles and walks back to the large bath with bubbles and a medical oder he hated. He got in crossing his arms. "Only because I don't want them to see me naked again."

Archie sighs and begins to scrub softly at Maxie's scales helping them shed. "Look I don't like this either but I refuse to be covered in your shed again. I don't care if we are still changing you will take a bath when you shed."

Maxie scowls. "You don't have to baby me Archie. You know why I don't like baths."

Archie pauses. "I know Max, but you'll feel better we both know that. I'm sorry but I don't want the shower spray to hurt you like last time when you first shed."

Maxie looks away and nods. "I know I know, could you.... maybe uh come in with me?"

Archie chuckles and plops into the bath with Maxie splashing him.

Maxie spits out the soapy water at Archie. "You know what I changed my mind get out."

Archie laughs harder. "Love you too Maxie."

......1 year later....

Maxie was sitting at his desk Archie was late to their meeting, Tabitha and Courtney were both waiting along with Shelly and Matt. It was an uncomfortable silence. Maxie tapped his claw against the wood not realizing he was creating a small hole. "He's the one who called the damn meeting why is he running late."

Tabitha sighs knowing Maxie's temper was high by the smell of burning coming from his tail that slapped the floor in annoyance. "Maxie he probably forgot something."

"We share a home Tabitha he seemed perfectly put together." Maxie glares at Matt who looked guilty.

Matt Maxie knew was awful at keeping secrets and a glare from Maxie was enough to set him off. "ARCHIE IS GOING TO PROPOSE." Matt yells breaking all tension. "I promised I wouldn't tell but I just can't. He is late because the ring is taking longer to make then he realized." He covers his face in shame.

Shelly curses. "Fucking hell Matt he told us in confidence."

"I know I know but Maxie looks so upset." Matt whimpers

Shelly groans and leans back.

Courtney was laughing softly a rare sound.

Tabitha gave a look to Matt saying you're on the couch tonight.

Maxie slams his hands on the table startling everyone. "That fucking bastard" he gets up quickly. "I already bought a fucking ring."

The four stared at Maxie connecting the dots and everyone realized that maybe that their collective bosses were both actually so deeply in love they had the same idea.

At that moment Archie walked in hearing Maxie yell. "You bought a ring?"

"Of course I did you dumb pirate I love you." Maxie huffs. "I was waiting for the full moon because you like the moon's reflection on the water."

Archie looks like he was about to cry. "Maxie I love you so much woukd you marry me?"

Maxie threw his own black box at Archie. "Make an educated guess you college graduate."

Archie burst out laughing and runs to tackle Maxie into a hug. "Damn right Maxie I will marry you."

"And I will marry you Archie." Maxie smiles

#becoming less human #magma leader maxie #team aqua archie #aqua leader archie #hardenshipping #pokemon archie #pokemon maxie #magma boss maxie #pokemon #aqua admin matt #aqua admin shelly #magma admin courtney #magma admin tabitha

30 notes · View notes

scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP. But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster. Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr. See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story. When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”. If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is. The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events. I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus. Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip.

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile. No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering. Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services. The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day. Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial. She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor. I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down... aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye? Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here. Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting. What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly. Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.” At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor. Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal. Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever. If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass. He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent. Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped. “Wee Jamie? Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew. I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny. Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday. I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance. She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston. Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie. I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself. As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class? My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche. Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck. My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning. I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left. A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips. Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy. She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp. Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?” At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day. I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body. He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch. I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures. “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe. Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation. Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others. I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time. The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan. I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast. First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands. To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind. My pie crust! Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan. Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class. We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke. With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water. A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls. I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision. She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking. It looked like a magazine cover. Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better. She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness. Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion. Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated. She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair. “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty. They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended. I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment. Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire. After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama. Will ye be joining us next week? We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk. “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook. It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity. “Tis an art. Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is. But in that case, I may as well give up now. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly. Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree. Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting. He knew about Frank. He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake! Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft. Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement. Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

74 notes · View notes

thisisthehardestthing · 4 years ago

Text

4 Months - Tanaka x fem!reader, NSFW

Y’all read my fucking mind. Okay, I got a bit carried away with this one, it’s about 2.5k. I’m so sorry.

@froppysgirl I hope you like it

NSFW 3 - Tanaka Ryunosuke: “I swear im going to fuck the next person that comes through that door.” Warnings: public sex, swearing, unprotected sex

“Dude, it’s been about four months since I’ve gotten laid.”

Tanaka’s confession comes out of nowhere, catching Nishinoya off-guard, making him choke on a sip of beer. The two old friends are in the college dorm lounge area, playing video games and drinking. Noya sputters out the liquid, coughing and beating on his chest as he looks at Tanaka with wide eyes.

“Dude, no,” he gasps, the words laced with disbelief.

“Oh, ya, believe it.”

Tanaka raises his hands above his head, stretching out his spine, cracking the entire length before leaning back on the sofa, downing the final sips of his beer. The empty bottle is placed precariously close to the edge of the coffee table, right next to his feet; an accident waiting to happen. He rubs a hand over his buzzcut, feeling the way the hairs bend against his palm and prickle at his scalp, he lets out a frustrated groan. Noya pauses the game, grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl set between them, turning, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Damn, you must be really lame in bed, Ryu,” he laughs, crunching on more chips, washing it down with beer. “What if word got around and that’s why no one wants to sleep with you?”

With flames dancing in his eyes, Tanaka throws a couch cushion at Noya’s face, which the spunky man easily dodges, ducking before pulling back up with an even wider grin than before. He’s cackling at the expression on his sexually frustrated friend.

“Bro, it’s not funny.” Tanaka groans, bringing a closed beer between his teeth to open it.

“It is a little.” Noya counters, going back to the game, folding his legs underneath his body.

Most of the dorm residents are out for the night, off to a frat party which meant the building was quiet and they’re left to their own mischief.

“What are you going to do about it?” Noya pipes up after a few minutes, alluding to Tanaka’s dry spell. The shaved-haired man furrows his brows in thought.

“You know what? I swear, I’m going to fuck the next person that comes through that door.” Ryu points over his shoulder at the entrance of the dorms. Both men turn, half expecting fate to work and for someone, anyone, to stumble in, but it remains closed. Noya barks out a laugh and Ryu sulks, grumbling under his breath at his luck.

“Even if it’s a dude?” he’s howling now, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes, clutching at his gut.

“Whatever, man, I’d fuck anyone right about now.”

That makes Noya shut up, head snapping up, eyes wide as he wipes at his tears.

“Even--”

“Yeah, even her.”

“Dude.”

Tanaka just nods, feeling his chest tighten at the thought of you. God, everything about you drives him wild, sets him on edge. You had him wrapped around your little finger and you didn’t even know it. He was usually so forward about his feelings, however, with one look from you and his heart drops to his stomach and all words fly out of his mind.

“Nah, you’re too chicken.” Noya teases, shaking his head, his blonde fringe swaying like a metronome. Tanaka has half the mind to smack his bestie on the back of his head but just takes another swig instead.

“I really wo--”

And just like that, fate decides to jump in and the door slams open, laughter and noise from outside trickling in. Both men whip their heads around to stare at the incoming party. Noya stifles a laugh when he realises who just walked in.

“Ryu, there’s your chance,” he whispers, nudging his friend's knee with a foot, face giddy with glee.

“Shut up.” Ryu seethes back, shoving the foot away, but his breath hitches as he glances at the door again.

You stride into the room, smile bright and dress short, giggling with a mischievous glint in your eyes. You turn to the boys that had walked you back to the dorms, seeing their fallen faces as you wish them goodnight and close the door. Tanaka and Nishinoya peer over the back of the couch to watch you bend over to take your heels off, rolling and flexing your ankles and toes, the hem of the thin material riding up a little higher. Noya can’t help but snicker at Tanaka’s starstruck face, kicking him once again to pull his friend out of the stupor, a little too late.

As you stand up, heels in one hand, you catch Ryu’s stare, your smile faltering as you feel warmth bloom on your cheeks. Fuck, you had no idea he would be in tonight. He looks so good, dangerous even. You see the glint of a gold chain underneath his black t-shirt, making you want to tug on it, pull him closer, feel those lips on your neck. You bite your lip, you should not be having these thoughts now, but the way he’s staring makes your heart slow. You see Tanaka’s friend in your peripheral, and you want to turn away to let them hang out, but your body moves before you realise what’s happening. It must be the liquid courage in your veins, egging you on.

With your free hand, your ghost your fingers up your thigh, lifting the hem of your dress slightly on the side, inching it higher until it shows off the side of your hip, the lace of your thong, before you drop it with a smirk and a wink. Tanaka licks his lips, glancing from you to Noya, who had somehow missed it, eyes back on the TV. Your movement makes his eyes snap back and he catches the end of it, seeing the thong drop to the floor around your ankles, and you step out of it, nudging it forwards just a little before turning to leave, swaying your hips as you walk to your room.

Tanaka claps his hands together, a smile wide on his face, shocking Noya with the sudden energetic action. Noya raises an eyebrow, looks over his shoulder at the small black article of clothing on the floor and rolls his eyes. Ryu looks at him, a pleading look that says, ‘I know it’s bro’s before hoe’s, but please’. Noya nods.

“Alright! See ya later, bro.”

Tanaka practically leaps over the back of the sofa, running to pick up your thong, stuffing it into his pants pocket as he turns the corner of the room. He jogs lightly to catch up with your retreating back right as you reach the elevator, the same mischievous grin on your face.

You’re leaning against the wall, arms crossed underneath your breasts, peering up at him.

“Hi there,” you breathe, and you see the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. You know he likes you, and you can’t help yourself as you tease him. You want him too, after all.

“Hey yourself,” Tanaka greets, hand pulling out of his pocket to dangle the thong between your bodies, “you dropped these.” The smile on his face is lascivious, and you can’t help but clench your core in response, feeling a growing wetness pool between your legs.

“Thanks,” you reply, taking them as the door to the elevator opens and you push past to get in. Tanaka is glued to the spot, head following your body, thoughts running through his mind.

Are you serious? Do you want this? Is he too tipsy? Are you tipsy? The elevator doors start to close but grind to a halt, your hand slamming between them as they reopen.

“Ryunosuke, are you coming?”

The way his name rolls off your tongue sets his heart ablaze and he jumps into the elevator as though it was a life raft, pressing you up against the cold mirror. You let out a little squeal as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him and your arms hang past his neck, your shoes still in one hand, and your underwear in the other. You can feel the strength in his grip as your body is pressed against his muscular chest, breasts tight to his body, lips mere inches apart. He’s hesitant, and you shut your eyes, leaning that distance to capture his lips in a kiss, using your forearms to deepen it. He groans at your touch, hands instantly moving lower to tap your legs and you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist as your back is flat against the elevator. Your heads twist, lips melding, breathing heavily, and you open your eyes to find your reflection on the opposite side. It makes you moan, and you feel the stiffness of his cock between your legs, aware at how there’s nothing covering your sex. Your inner thighs squeeze in response, your hips grinding down as his thrust slightly, creating a delicious friction to your clit, but you’re so empty, and all of a sudden, very, very horny.

You drop the things in your hands, ignoring the dull thud against the floor, bringing your palm to cup the back of his neck, turning your cheek to kiss along his jaw and up to his ear. Tanaka imitates you, lips leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, you stare at your reflection again, your reflection within the reflection; you can see his face, how his eyes are squeezed shut in concentration, how he moans into your skin, the vibrations making your spine tingle. It’s almost too much. You want him now, and from the way he’s devouring your taste, you can tell he wants you just as badly. You pull away, back of your head resting against the wall and stare into his eyes, which are dark, lidded, ready to eat.

“I want you inside me.” You say, ignoring the fact that you’re still in the elevator, in public.

“What if someone sees?” Tanaka asks, voice hoarse, but he’s already shifting you to awkwardly pull down the waistband of his athletic shorts and boxers. You reach over, pressing the emergency stop button, realising at the same time that you’d never actually pressed your floor button, you were still on ground. The anticipation that anyone could’ve walked in makes your cunt clench.

“There. Now please Ryu, I need you inside me.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispers, “condom?” he asks, ever a gentleman. It makes you smile, and your heart decides to flutter at the words, realising just how sweet he is underneath his loud actions. You shake your head, resting your forehead against his.

“I’m on the pill,” you say.

It’s all he needs, restraint breaking as he teases the silken head of his cock against your folds. You suppress a moan between clamped lips, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips, and he slowly starts to inch into you. Your eyes fling open, feeling how he’s stretching you. Fuck, he’s bigger than you thought, and your eyes roll back in your head. The tip of his cock is inside you, and he gives you a moment to adjust, peppering kisses and bites to your cheeks and nose and lips, before starting to thrust slowly, shallow. You feel how you’re leaking down his cock, your juices gliding between your sexes and soon each thrust becomes deeper, harder, faster, until the fingers holding up your legs are bruising and Tanaka pants with each inhale, knocking broken whines from your throat.

“Yes, Ryu, you’re so god damn big,” you praise, feeling some drool slip from the corner of your lips. His tongue is there, licking it up and you clench around another thrust. He’s secretly filthy underneath, and it makes you grin. He grunts in response, your words spurring him on even faster.

It’s been way too long since he’d fucked anything, and you feel even more delicious around his dick than he ever imagined. The way your walls clench around him, pulling him in deeper. He wants you to come undone around his cock so badly. He drops one of your legs down, bending his knees slightly to accommodate your height, keeping the other leg up, stretching you open. The new angle makes you cry out and you bite your tongue, remembering you’re still in public, and his friend is in the living room. Oh, that’s so fucking fantastic.

A finger taps your lips and you eagerly open to suck on them, before they’re pulled out and are on your clit, rolling and rubbing circles that wind you up closer to orgasm. You can’t stop saying his name, the word tumbling from your lips like a broken record, a prayer, and Tanaka can’t stop his movements, eternally entranced from hearing your voice. He never wants it to disappear. He feels his release piling up, and he clenches his teeth.

“I’m close,” he breathes into your ear, and you can only moan, feeling how he starts to rub your clit harder, flipping a switch in your brain, letting you come undone around his cock, seeing white and black and stars, your heart pounding in your ears as your thighs tremble between his body. With a grunt, your clenching walls pull his release from him, painting you with the same white that you saw behind your eyelids.

Your legs are shaky as you stand and he pulls out, bringing your body close to his in a hug. Your forehead rests on his shoulder, breathing heavily as you twitch from the aftereffect of your orgasm.

“Shit,” you hear Ryu curse, and you roll your face to look at him, the slight panic on his features, “I’m sorry, I came inside, I didn’t even ask you.”

“It’s fine,” you laugh, placing a small kiss on his shirt, feeling the collarbone beneath, “really, it’s okay, I liked it.”

His grip on you relaxes and he pulls away slowly, suddenly bashful and avoiding your gaze. He tucks himself back into his pants and turns to pick up your things. You take them with a smile, kissing his cheek quickly, before putting the lace thong into his pocket.

“Huh? What-” he starts, but you put a finger to his lips before trailing it down his chin, grabbing that gold chain you noticed earlier, tugging it so that his lips connect with your own once more. They’re so warm, moist, inviting, and you sigh into him.

“Keep them, Ryunosuke. You can give them back when we go on a date.”

The grin that erupts onto his lips is in no way equal to the elation he feels inside, pulling you tight into a hug. Some banging on the elevator door pulls you both away, blushes creeping up your necks at the sudden intrusion.

“You guys finally done fucking?” Nishinoya calls out, incredibly turned on from the lewd noises he had to endure from the other side.

----------------------

#claudia500 #tanaka #tanaka ryunosuke #tanaka x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu request #ryu tanaka #mine #my writing #im feral for him

408 notes · View notes

goldencorecrunches · 4 years ago

Text

(More LanLan rural vet AU) -- It had been a great idea.

"Look at it this way, at least you'll know we've gotten most of them," Luo Qingyang, their tiny clinic's only full-time nurse, told him. She was visibly trying to keep a straight face. Song Lan glared at her. He couldn't reply with words, because his hands were full of squirming, six-week old puppies. Also his arms, and his shoulders, and from the German Shepherd tugging at his scrub pants, soon his lap as well.

Song Lan had known, moving from the city to the rural countryside, that there would be some measure of culture shock. When one of the farmers had casually dropped that he didn't vaccinate his puppies, because there were, according to him, "Too many of 'em too fast to bother driving 'em out all that way, before you showed up," he had nearly broken his strict policy of sobriety during work hours.

"They're all going to die of distemper," he had told Wen Qing after the man had left, vaguely aware he was making his Strict Veterinarian Face (it was Lan Xichen who had given it a name, which made Song Lan warm all over, on top of the flush from anger) from the way his temples had started aching. "They're not even on heartworm medication. I'm surprised so many of them survive to get killed by the combine harvester." "Just 'combine,' you sound like you're city folk," Wen Qing had said, ignoring Song Lan's mouthed protestation that he was, which was why he was used to people who kept Lucky and Xiao mi's shots up to date. "Look, these people-- they don't have time, and they don't have money. They're going to focus on the livestock animals they need to keep themselves afloat. It's not cruelly meant. They're doing the best they can." "I know that," Song Lan said, somewhat abashed. He peeled his gloves into the bin by the sink and set about washing his hands as he thought. As always, he had to hunch over the sink, built for a much shorter DVM. Wen Qing's girlfriend had sent her some kind of fancy floral soap, and Wen Qing had delighted in placing it in both exam rooms and the surgery. It was a bit stronger to the nose that Song Lan would've preferred, but he wasn't going to argue with Wen Qing when it came to her girlfriend. The antiseptic covered it up, anyway. "What about a vaccination fair? Or just a day," he said when he had finished drying off. "We used to do them at my old clinic. Bring in your pets, get them up to date. Pass out flyers about common infections. Gets the kids involved, too." "Hm," Wen Qing had said. She'd begun gathering up the used sterile packaging and dumping it in the trash, neatly detouring the needles to the sharps container. "That's certainly an idea." She'd argued him down from all pets to just dogs, and had him separate out areas based on the weeks since puppy birth, to for the older dogs the year or the five-year mark. Song Lan had thought it overly complicated-- he could just ask the humans involved as they came up-- but had acquiesced so as not to cause trouble. He was still learning how to fit in, here. Country folk were a lot more standoffish than city folk, for all they were initially nicer.

He was very glad now that he'd listened.

"You look busy," said a cheerful voice from behind him. Song Lan finished administering the Bordetella shot to the Border Collie mix Luo Qingyang was holding, giving the pup a scratch behind the ears and juggling the bag of chicken jerky underneath his armpit to keep the mutt-who-definitely-had-Bulldog-in-there-somewhere who was crawling across his shoulders from snatching an unearned reward. He turned, stumbling as the German Shepherd shoved her nose enthusiastically into his muddy shoe laces, and tried to keep his scowl affixed for Lan Xichen's teasing. It was a pointless endeavor; as soon as he caught sight of Lan Xichen's face, glowing in the midday heat, he could feel his mouth pulling up at the corner. He occupied himself boosting the puppy under his left arm higher, propping his waggling tail on his hipbone, to keep his own dopey smile to a minimum. "Shh," he told the puppy, when he yipped and started trying to eat Song Lan's scrubs. The puppy looked up, top canine caught in the loop the brand name tag had once hung from, before Song Lan had cut it off. He was not helping the dopiness meter. "Mister Lan!" Luo Qingyang said, handing the Collie mix back to a child with worried arms outstretched (the dog, unperturbed, began licking every freckle on the child's face). "I'm glad you were able to make it! You brought us-- oh, you didn't have to, put that down. Here, you take this one." She plucked the heavy, stainless-steel carafe from his hand and replaced it with a black-and-tan puppy she summoned from nowhere. Automatically Lan Xichen brought his other hand up to support the puppy's hind legs. The puppy sniffed the pens in the crisply ironed breast pocket and did not find them suitable. Song Lan realized he'd been staring and shuffled his furry passengers away from the jerky again.

"I didn't think to make it cold. It's a warm day, I hope it won't be too hot for you," Lan Xichen was saying, apologetic. The edge of the shadow from the extremely garishly striped outdoor tent Song Lan and Wen Ning had set up cut him right across his handsome face, one eye in the shade, the other squinting into the sunlight. As a teenager, Song Lan had had a movie poster where the actor was highlighted in similar fashion. He had hung the poster on the ceiling above his bed. This is not the time for this was becoming a common repetition in Song Lan's inner monologue when it came to Lan Xichen. "If it has caffeine in it, we'll love you whatever temperature it is," Luo Qingyang assured him, passing Lan Xichen another puppy; nearly identical to the first, but with one black ear instead of two. "This is his sister, they're getting their ten week vaccinations. A bit late, but don't tell their mother that. Do you know how to hold them?" "I'm not entirely useless," Lan Xichen said dryly. He smiled at Song Lan. Song Lan nearly tripped over the German Shepherd again. "Ten weeks, that's...Influenza, Bordetella, Lyme…." "DHAPP," Luo Qingyang confirmed, ponytail bouncing as she nodded. "I'm going over to help Wen Qing with the older dogs, you stay and hold puppies for Doctor Song, yeah?" She patted the male puppy on the head, blew a kiss to the female, and leapt over the barricade of folding chairs to rush to the other side of the tent. A queue was already forming there as Wen Qing argued with a woman in overalls, gesturing angrily. Luo Qingyang slid neatly between them and took the three-legged hound from the woman's arms the same way she had taken charge of Lan Xichen's tea carafe. "You've got a criminal," Lan Xichen said pleasantly, pointing with his chin. Song Lan blinked, and then mentally swore, kneeling so he could free one hand to extricate the Pitbull mix from the open ziplock seal on OL' GRANDAD'S AUTHENTIC CHICKIN STRIPS (Reduced Fat). He pressed the hinge of the puppy's jaw to tug the pilfered treat free, tapping his nose when he tried to whine sadly. Song Lan hadn't gotten his certification yesterday. "Can you hold them while I give the injections?" he asked, waiting for Lan Xichen's acquiescence before struggling to his feet again. Half-way up he felt a pull at his knee. He looked down and saw the German Shepherd, tired of being ignored, had a mouthful of his pants. "No," Song Lan signed; but the dog hadn't been trained in sign language, so she growled playfully up at him, ears pricked. Song Lan reached to do the same trick he'd done on the Pitbull mutt, but he'd not accounted that the other set-down dogs would be investigating the other side of his newly-sniffable legs. With a grassy skid, and a very undignified shout, Song Lan went down. The dirt seemed a lot more solid when he was testing it with his nose and chin. Three of the puppies leapt on his face and began a series of scientific experiments as to whether he was dead or just playing. One slobbery tongue went into his ear. "Are you all right?" Lan Xichen's voice was above him: Song Lan was never, ever going to live this down. He groaned and rolled onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes and letting the puppies pounce on his hair and ankles. The German Shepherd, looking delighted with herself, sat her ass down on Song Lan's stomach and examined his face, tongue lolling. Despite himself, Song Lan smiled and reached up to rub at her belly. She flopped onto her side (oof) and threw her front paws up so he could gain better access. Her tail beat wildly at the ground beside Song Lan's leg.

"Just…dangle them over my chest," Song Lan signed up at Lan Xichen's looming figure. He was tall. Was this what he looked like to everyone else at the clinic? "I'll do them like this."

"Of course, Doctor Song," Lan Xichen said, carefully solemn.

They looked at each other.

The girl puppy swatted her brother in the nose. Immediately he started crying.

"Shall I get you a cup of tea too, then?" Lan Xichen asked, and Song Lan couldn't help it; he laughed out loud.

"I suppose 'buried in dogs' isn't a terrible way to go," he signed, as Lan Xichen, finally abandoning his masterful attempt, let his grin take over his face. It was blinding. "Yes, if you've got a funnel to pour it through?"

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #song lan #lan xichen #song lan gets to laugh in this one!#and it's happier over all #the last one was like deep feelings vibes this one is just fluff #my fics #fic: lanlan rural vet au #lanlan rural vet au #song lan and wq were both speaking in sign in the flashback there if that wasn't clear #(EDIT: when will i catch a typo before i post. When. tell me w h y)#lanlan

48 notes · View notes

cherrywoes · 4 years ago

Text

002 | CONTROL

002.

Strong language, some sexual references.

YOU DIDN'T SEE USHIJIMA for over a month after that particular incident. Between your various promotions in Brazil, Paris, and Venice by Akaashi's requests, you had no time for homebound work much less returning to Tokyo for a brief siesta with the man who was plaguing your dreams. He was a menace even when he wasn't there with you—not that you were necessarily complaining. Just the thought of him got you off faster than anything else you could have produced in the heat of the moment, and it surprised you every time the aftershocks wore off and you were trying to catch your breath.

If it were anyone else, you would have been ashamed every time thoughts of that photoshoot kept you awake until three in the morning or blindsided you in the middle of company meetings while Akaashi was briefing you on how you should do your runway turns and pauses for the crowd to show off the ridiculous slits in the gowns he'd designed for a summer collection.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was a different breed of man entirely, you'd give him that much.

Gnawing on the cap of your pen, you tapped your fingers on the corner of your desk and eyed the reference photos Akaashi had sent you so you would know how you would be appearing on the runway. A lot of them were primarily focused on shoulders, knees, calves, and hips, with an unusual emphasis on the curvature of your neck. You scribbled down a note to start your neck exercises to make sure the skin was taut and smooth before the show and, as an afterthought, sadly crossed out sugar from your diet plan.

Sometimes you hated your dietitian's planners. Your meals were planned out from morning to noon, with small snacks in between usually of protein shakes and fruit with a limited amount. While you sometimes cheated and drank soda or ate oatmeal with enough sugar to sink a battleship, you usually stuck to your diet even if it was something you didn't like—you eyed the plate of asparagus, spinach, and salmon sitting on your desk that you'd poked around at but had yet to eat. You'd most likely skip the meal entirely and replace it with something else later.

Before you could close your laptop for the night and squirm out of the designer shirt and pants you wore, the gaping slash from neck to navel leaving you chilly, a facetime call popped up on your screen, reading 'Annoying Ass Cat' or, simply, Kuroo.

You answered without a second thought. You hadn't had time to see either him or Kenma like you had wanted besides intercepting their bills and paying them yourself, even though the gamer was cautiously making his way back into the scene much to his fans delight. You would pop in the chats whenever you had the time, the time zone difference manageable for you. While it was 2PM in Tokyo, it was 6AM in Venice, right as you were waking up and eating breakfast, so you'd watch and interact with Kenma while you got ready for the day. Kuroo was there sometimes or was at work depending on the day, but you were happy to see your boys were okay even if it was through a gaming stream.

"[Name]!" Kuroo exclaimed as the screen came up, revealing your bare face and the backdrop of nighttime over Venice in the window behind you. He was sitting somewhere in the kitchen and you could see Kenma poke his head from around a corner when he shouted your name. "How's Venice? No, how was Paris? Your Instagram was full of pictures there especially."

You laughed and set your pen down on a notepad. "It's really beautiful here, I promise. I prefer Venice over Paris though, there's a tranquility here that Paris just doesn't have. But I only have one more show before Akaashi's letting me fly home for a while."

"That's good, me and Kenma miss you," he said with a wide grin. You watched the shorter male nod in agreement behind him and add,"I miss playing COD with you and ignoring Kuroo."

"Hey!" said male gasped, offended.

"I miss you guys too." You smiled and leaned back in your chair, picking the pen back up and twirling it between your fingers. "Kenma, have you gotten rid of your… uh… worm problem?"

He scowled at you briefly when you snorted at your little joke. "Yes, I have. The doctors said I should be perfectly healthy by next week."

"Finally," Kuroo guffawed. "I'm tired of thinking they're gone and then have them come right back and you get sick again."

Kenma just shrugged. You laughed lightly and opened your mouth to comment on the new clothes Kuroo was wearing since they were from Akaashi's collection when your phone pinged with a message.

"Who's that?" Kuroo asked when you reached over to pick up your phone, flipping the screen face up to scan the contact name. He watched your eyes slowly widen and a dark blush creep up your face, darker than he'd ever seen it in normal lighting, and a strangled squeak force its way past your lips. "[Name]?"

You worried at your bottom lip, glancing at the name 'Ushijima' sitting innocently in your notifications and then back to Kuroo and Kenma, who were both silently waiting for your answer to who it was. You could tell them, of course, and you would feel guilty for it—because Ushijima was your best kept fantasy, as much as you'd deny it, and the incident at the beach wasn't something you wanted to share with either of them. They were your best friends, but you had to draw the line in the sand somewhere…

And you were drawing it at Ushijima Wakatoshi.

"Akaashi has a dress he wants me to model," you choked out, ignoring Ushijima's text and opening up Akaashi's contact to pull up the risque dress he'd sent you when you landed in Venice. It didn't bother you but you needed an excuse for the flush on your face; Kuroo wouldn't know the difference. It was a bright orange number, more akin to two banners of silk wrapped around your throat and taped to cover your breasts and angle between your legs, held together by a heavy jeweled belt. You held your phone up to the laptop camera and heard Kenma let out a surprised grunt. "I know. It's not his usual work, but he wanted something for summer and… well. That's summer."

Kuroo seemed appeased by your answer, at least. "I think you could pull it off. I'll have to watch the show when it airs."

You felt relief too soon. If there was anything you didn't want either of them to do it was watch this particular show, filled with more skin and silk and nudity than you'd ever show them in polite company, your current shirt aside. It was almost like showing yourself to two overtly awkward boyfriends and expecting them to ignore you, which they wouldn't, and try not to evoke certain reactions, which they would. But you couldn't exactly tell them that, now could you?

"Way to inspire anxiety," you said, instead, fingers hovering over Ushijima's unread text. You sorely wanted to read it, but you couldn't in front of them. It felt too secret, too intimate, even though you hadn't exchanged another word with the man besides the text he'd sent you as you had left the shoot that day. "If I trip and fall it's your fault."

Kuroo grinned rakishly. "I'd bet on it."

You spent a few more moments talking to them before excusing yourself for bed. It was midnight where you were and you were getting drowsy, but the thought of Ushijima's text was enough to get you going. You would probably crash later, but your curiosity was killing you.

With a few air kisses to them both, you ended the call and stared at your phone lying on your desk, as if such a simple piece of technology didn't have the capability of turning your emotions upside down.

"Here goes nothing," you mumbled and opened the text, holding your breath and your hand over your mouth.

'Congratulations.'

Underneath he'd attached an image, and it took you a few minutes to realize what you were looking at. The main piece, which he was referring to, was a glossy magazine cover with you plastered on the front in Akaashi's lingerie line, where you'd been seated on a throne, given a scepter, and a crown that was tastefully askew on your head. You had the same photo printed and framed in Akaashi's office, one of his favorites, and your first front cover for this magazine. The magazine was laying in his lap, legs spread in what looked like an expensive leather chair, and you just barely made out the toe of his shoes and the pinstripes in his pants. You did see Nox's ear in the top corner, making you giggle just a bit.

You felt just a little pathetic at analyzing every facet of the innocent photo, but you assured yourself that you were just curious and you could learn a lot from how someone took photos.

'Thank you,' you typed back, then pulled your lip between your teeth. What else to add? 'I didn't think you'd see that, haha.'

Too nervous to watch him potentially reply, you tossed your phone on your hotel bed and pulled on your pajamas, ignoring the ping of his text back while you pulled your t-shirt over your head. When you were comfortable and felt somewhat more calm, you burrowed underneath the heavy hotel sheets and opened the text.

'Why wouldn't I?' He'd written. 'You're very eye catching, [Name]. Although that isn't what I texted you for.'

Anxiety hit you like a truck.

'Then what did you need?'

You gnawed on your nail, careful not to leave marks on the filed tips, and watched as three little periods popped up as he typed his reply. He took his time, that was for certain, and you were expecting a paragraph by the time he'd finished, but to your surprise—your heart fluttered and dropped down to your belly when you read it—it was just one simple word.

'You.'

You never regretted falling asleep more in your life. Somehow you'd gotten too comfortable and your eyes had slipped closed against your will. You'd slept until your alarm woke you and you'd sworn it was just a dream, except you nearly spit out your black coffee when you went back to the texts that morning. You felt bad about not replying, but soon it left your mind in a flurry of silks, chiffon, and lace and the chaos that was Akaashi's fashion show.

The next time you thought about those texts, it was on your flight home to Tokyo. You'd had a few glasses of champagne to celebrate not tripping on the runway, much to Kuroo's disappointment, and had typed a reply without a thought to the consequences of replying over a week later.

'Why me?' It was simple but you'd lost the nerve to type anything more. You'd have to have more to drink to type up anything more than that. Surprisingly, he was awake so early in the morning: a glance at the clock revealed it was 2 A.M. What was he doing awake so late?

'Why not you?' Was his reply, as if that explained anything.

Frustrated, you downed the rest of your champagne and requested for something stronger from the flight attendant. She blinked at you in surprise, but went to retrieve a bottle of whiskey like you'd asked while you typed up another alcohol fueled reply.

'You don't even know me,' you typed, nails clacking against the screen,'and other than nearly cumming on your leg in front of fifteen photographers, I don't know you either.'

With a huff, you slammed your phone down right as the flight attendant returned with a bottle of high grade whiskey. You drank straight from the bottle instead of using a glass, praising the perks of flying first class, and watched as Ushijima's response lit up your phone.

'I know more about you than you think, [Name].'

Eyebrows furrowing, you sat back in your seat and stared at the screen, dumbfounded and a little buzzed.

'What the hell does that mean?'

He never answered you after that. You pounded back the rest of the bottle in less than an hour and curled up on the couch near the back, knowing fully well that you'd wake up nursing the worst hangover known to man. You never did handle alcohol well, or at all. But you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was an infuriatingly handsome enigma wrapped up in a quiet, stern package with a dash of mischief that seemed rare and unseen. You wanted to unwrap this mystery and with every interaction he just seemed to add more layers, more mystery to himself, so much so that you couldn't help but wonder who he really was, or what he wanted with you.

By the time you got back to Tokyo, it was six in the morning. The airport was unusually empty and besides the paparazzi catching you and snapping a few photos of your "airport outfit"—a loose Gucci Oxford button up (which was Akaashi's and somehow made it into your bag, probably after he'd given it to you when you spilled tea all over yourself last week) half tucked and draped over a pair of leggings with tasteful ladders cut into the thighs and knees—and shouted several questions at you even though your hangover made you want to beat the hell out of your skull.

"[Name], you look awful." Ayano greeted you at the exit, wearing designer everything from head to toe and looking exceptionally glamorous for it. You could faintly smell men's cologne on her and automatically assumed she had been on a date—or was just finishing up a hookup, judging by how she'd tried to fix her makeup and failed. "Don't you have breakfast plans with that famous dietitian?"

"Who?" You squinted into the dawn sunlight and fumbled for a pair of sunglasses in your purse, slapping them on your face with a grimace. "You mean Iwaizumi Hajime? One, he's a sports dietitian, and two, I'm only doing it to track down where the hell Oikawa went so I can wring his pretty little neck."

"That sounds like an unexplored kink," Ayano teased. She snickered when you slapped her lightheartedly; she seemed much better off being able to go home earlier than you had. "I'm joking. I don't know where exactly in Argentina he went. I'm sure if anyone knows it's Iwaizumi."

You hummed in agreement. "Which is why I need you to figure out his schedule so I can jump in on his breakfast or lunch."

She sighed. "I knew there was something you weren't telling me."

"But you love me," you grinned, blowing her a kiss and hopping in the passenger seat with renewed gusto despite your pounding headache.

Ayano stepped into the driver's seat a moment later with an even more exaggerated sigh. "Unfortunately."

Thirty minutes and a few well placed bribes later, you had a printout of Iwaizumi's schedule from Monday to Sunday, with even fine details written in the margins. You flicked the paper out and pushed your sunglasses up, holding it up against the sunlight so you could read and block it at the same time.

"Breakfast at Onigiri Miya," you read slowly, eyebrows raising. "Orders the plain Onigiri and soy sauce with water to drink; later has a twenty milligram protein shake and salmon patties for a snack. Who wrote this, a superfan disguised as a pseudo secretary?"

Ayano groaned and turned the music down at your observation. "Are you going to go or not? Because we're here."

Your gaze darted forward to look around. "Where?"

She gestured to the small building she'd parked outside. "Onigiri Miya."

It was a cozy little shop, you'd give that. Ayano had allowed you to change before dropping you off, so now you wore a pair of Louboutins, a stylish pair of washed jeans, and the same button up but tucked in tight underneath a plain Chanel belt. A few of the morning customers eyed you as you walked in, but to your surprise no one was at the counter.

You spotted Iwaizumi Hajime out of the corner of your eye while you waited, completely oblivious to your presence and enjoying his Onigiri and soy sauce. The schedule had been right after all. You pursed your lips and turned your head back to face the menu, except there was now a man standing in front of you—and judging by the way he was looking at you, he recognized you, his eyes slightly wide.

"I—Uh—How can I help you?" He blustered, running a hand through his yellow hair. His nametag read 'Miya Atsumu' and underneath, scrawled in permanent marker, was an angry 'Part-Timer'. "Would you like to know the specials for today?"

"No thank you. I'll take the plain Onigiri, please, and water." You smiled and took pleasure in the way he blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. He was a handsome man, you had to say, if a little awkward.

"Sure thing!" Atsumu put in your order and you paid with your card. When he went to the back, he said,"Switch!"

You tapped your fingernails against the counter and observed the scratches in the cheap tile. When you looked up again, a bored grin on your face, you felt your stomach shrivel up and try to escape to the floor at the familiar face before you.

"Terushima Yuuji," you said sourly, grin fading to a harsh line. "What a surprise."

"[Name]?" He had the balls to look surprised to see you standing there—and really, he should be. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of you since you'd ended things with him when he cheated on you several months ago. "Wow. You look… good."

"Of course I do." You scowled and held out your hand. "My change?"

"Oh. Uh… Here. Three sixty." He dropped it into your waiting palm. "What are you doing here?"

"What? Am I not allowed to be here?" You questioned, your voice acidic. Your plan to ambush Iwaizumi was put on the back burner so you could rip Terushima a new one. Seeing his face after all this time made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp. "Whatever. Give me my Onigiri and I'll leave."

"But—"

"Goodbye." You twirled on your heel and headed for the door to sit outside where you weren't in the same room as him.

What you weren't expecting was the warmth of soup being tossed at the back of your head, or the feeling of hands clawing into your hair.

Six years of Taijutsu training kicked in and before you knew it, you had a girl sprawled out on the floor, her nose streaming vermillion rivers and her lip swelling up to concerning proportions. Your knuckles burned with the force and before you could nudge her body away, Yuuji leaped forward to check on the girl with panicked eyes.

"Babe?" He shook her, only receiving a groan in reply. "Answer me!"

Oh, this day just couldn't have gotten any worse could it? And it was all Oikawa's fault.

003.

MASTERLIST.

TAGLIST: @momowhoo | +++

Feedback is appreciated! 💕

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi

37 notes · View notes