#they’re all pretty much tied for second place in my heart and they’re pretty close behind Louie

[screampied]

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ FREAK LIKE MEEE ! ’﹒

𐚁̸ sum. jjk men kinks and their kinks/fetishizes . feat. gojo, toji, sukuna, nanami, choso.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected sēx, edging, praise, degradation, sir kink, semi-public sēx, hair pulling, edging, overstim, mentions of breēding, blindfolds, dry humping, spīt kink, mdni.

𐚁̸ an. requested by anon

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

“ah—you’ve got some nerve,” nanami would pant. he’s got you right where he wants you. you’re leaned over his desk, ogling as he starts to realign himself. “it’s like you just misbehave on purpose, sweetheart,” and his voice was silky warm, tender. you moan once he lifts up your skirt yet again—you’re sopping wet, a dampened patch coats the middle part of your panties. “have you been touching yourself?”

“n—no,” you purr out, although it was clear as day that you were purely lying. he could tell, nanami was a lot of things but he wasn’t an idiot. you felt so feverish, the head of his thick cock spilts inside of your cunt and you whimper out. throughout the office, all that could be heard was the faint sounds of his fax machine and the lewd squelches your sweet cunt sings out in pure harmony. this was so risky, yet you loved every second—you craved more, the thought that one of his colleagues could walk in or hear the two of you made you ten times more soaked. “yes,” you correct yourself, gnawing on your lip before you feel a sudden restraint on your hands.

nanami inhales deeply, a low groan departing from his lips before he grabs both of your wrists. “such a messy girl. can’t even finish my shift,” and he yanks his tie from his attire. nanami then swiftly ties your wrists against your back with his tie, fully buried into your cunt. he leans up close, so close—a hand gently wrapping around your throat. “gotta break this pussy before i get any work done, ‘s that what you’re telling me, my love?”

“y—yesss,” you whine out with strained lungs, before he starts to vigorously quicken his pace. relentlessly, he starts to take you over his desk. with parted legs, you moan out in sheer ecstasy. your pencil skirt was lazily pulled up to your waist. with the skirt a bit wrinkled because of his grip he makes your arch go further for him whilst pulling you closer against him. “harder, fuck me harder, kento.”

“baby, this is a place of business,” he chortles, a sharp angle of his hips makes you feel all of him. so thick— the stretch was godly, making your eyes widen and your lips quaver. so fucking big. his base thwacks against you so sloppily, swollen balls filled up with so much that your heart own mouth salivates at the thought of it flooding inside of you. “when you’re in my office, it’s ‘sir,’ okay?”

you purposely don’t reply— he gifts your ass with a spank, making you whimper out as a response.

“yes s-sir,” you moan, the sharp sting making you jolt forward against the edge of the wooden desk. your words were so candied, so sweet..

with the way your cunt constricts around his hefty length—you were emitting out such various moans for him. so loud, nanami can’t help but press himself up against you even more and move a hand to go over your mouth. “m-mphhh.”

“any louder ‘n they’re gonna here you, gorgeous,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. nanami even goes as far to licking against your earlobe, sending shivers all through you. each slow languid stroke continues to get more deeper, pretty soon you start to coat the entirety of his palm with your slick saliva. “you want my boss to hear what a messy girl you are in my office?”

he chuckles, watching you slowly nod in reply as he’s jackhammering his thick cock into you again, and again, and again. so repetitive, by this point you’re all cock drunk.

“but silly girl, you’re not supposed to want that,” and his strokes become slow yet deep—he reaches everywhere inside of your stretchy walls with ease. nanami groans at how good your pussy keeps him hostage. his voice was so abnormally low too, all up against your ear. a hand of his trails down your spine , your wrists still behind your back. “but of course you do, my wife can’t help but be a little messy for me, huh? she just can’t help it, all she thinks about is me bending her over my desk— oh, you sloppy girl. drooling all on my hand.”

his hand removes from your mouth and you’re moaning at each of his languidly deep hits. “gonna c-cum, ‘m gonna cum, kento.”

“ah ah,” he mutters, spreading your legs just a bit further. the heels you wore sunk into the floor as your mouth pries open even more. loud moans ring and reverberate throughout the room before you correct yourself.

“sir . . sir, ‘m gonna cum,” you swallow thickly, feeling him shove such thick inches in and out of you. your lungs fill up with heavy oxygen, you whimper as your head leans against the front surface of his desk. a scatter of papers going against your skin. briefly, all you could see was random markings of paperwork with neat writing, his familiar signature throughout all of them. “can i cum s-sir? pleasepleasepleaseeee.”

nanami hums, soft padded fingertips gliding against your hips as he holds you in place— he’s so deep inside, the tip of his cock kisses and mashes against your g-spot for the nth time before he groans out. “go ahead, make a mess on my desk, sweetheart. make a mess so i can make you clean up for me,” and you’re basically being rammed against the furniture, hot breaths pouring through your lips before you gasp. simultaneously, you cum—coating nothing but a pretty white ring around his shaft, his thrusts coming to a slow halt before he pauses. “. . oh,” he tilts his head back, at a lost of words for a second.

you hear the dangle of his belt from his pulled down slacks before he smiles, witnessing as you lose yourself completely—so lewd, you’re convulsing and twitching on his cock, whining for him to keep going before he tugs on your wrist. “good girl, such a good girl,” and he chuckles, watching you spread your legs open more, awaiting for him to continue. “aw, is the messy baby not satisfied?” and he’s so close up to you, his breath fans against the minuscule hairs of your neck before he’s buried so deep. you feel every inch, his hand wraps around your throat once more before he purrs in a low voice once you shake your head. “no? welllll that’s too bad,” and his voice was smooth as silk. it lowers a bit and you whine once he suddenly pulls out. “sorry, my love. not during business hours. this is all you’ll get from me,” and he turns you around to kiss your forehead, smirking at your little pout. “don’t be like that, i love you too, brat.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

more than anything, he’s just simply into spanking your pussy.

without question—he’d have you right on his lap, preferably where he’s taking a seat on his high and mighty throne. the king of curses, occupying himself with his favorite pussy girl.

“oh my, such an impatient woman,” he’d coo up against your ear. the soft fabric of his kimono rubs off amongst your skin and you whine once you feel him spread your thighs open. “now let’s see if you’re as wet as i remember,” he whispers in a gruff tone—you’re rightfully soaked, the minute his fingers skim against your panties, he’s greeted with a sopping wet coat of your arousal. sukuna hums in amusement, watching you squirm and wriggle within his hold. “how cute,” he’d snicker, dipping a single digit into your folds. you lean back against his chest, biting on your lip before moaning out. one finger turns into two—sukuna then swirls it around before continuing to speak. “did you touch her while i was away? and don’t lie, this pussy will answer for me if you don’t, girl.”

“no—” you reply in a shuddering tone, his fingers were so long, creating a circular repetitive motion inside of your cunt before he collects a good amount of your sweetness. it sticks against his fingers the more he rummages throughout your pussy. “i didn’t touch myself, ‘kuna. promise.”

“. . . who?” he furrows his brows, abruptly pulling out his fingers before gifting your wet pussy with a mean spank. “who the fuck is ‘kuna? that’s not my name, princess.”

you whimper out, the sting feeling so good. he was purely teasing—you knew that, and your legs shook a bit solely from the impact. you bite your tongue before feeling your thighs struggle to keep themselves open. “s-sukuna?”

“tch. foolish woman,” he grumbles, sharply bringing more spanks towards your cunt. you’re so wet, dripping with so much slick that he starts to get addicted. your body language was adorable. each time he spanks it time and time again, the back of your head rubs against his chest. it makes him snicker, playfully pinching your clit just to make you sob out another melodic moan. “when it’s just you ‘n me, you’re on my lap ‘n i’m dealing with a pussy this wet, it’s ’my lord’ to you, know your place.”

with a pout, you rub against his wrist. having a little brat left in you, you purr out a, “but sukuna-”

“whore. i know you heard what the fuck i said,” he grits, giving you another spank. yet he then realizes you said that on purpose, just to make him spank your sopping wet cunt again. it feels so good, you feel hot everywhere—a sensation of tingles own throughout your body before sukuna’s palm caresses against your exposed womanhood. “freaky girl. you like that, huh? like feeling my hand hit against this nasty little mess?”

you nod, the smoothness of his hand sending you shivers before you feel the nerves buried inside of your pussy throb at full force.

so so good, another whimper wretches from your throat before you squeeze onto his knee. “course ya do. can’t help but be a nasty girl,” he grunts, and he shoves his thick slenderly fingers back inside your cunt. you swallow him so good—he groans, feeling the warmth of your pussy suffocate his digits oh so easily. “my nasty girl.”

his words only makes your pool a heat grow even more, your throat feels all dry—yet you’re starting to feel yourself salivate. with his fingers and the rapid speed of it, you could cum in just minutes. seconds even if he was feeling frisky. your legs were all sprawled out and you were just seeing colors— the way his fingers simultaneously curl up inside your folds was so filthy.

“just look at this mess,” he snarls, softly burying his fangs into his neck—a classic lip bite. as you’re laid against him, he feels his dick start to twitch in his briefs. you were so cute, trembling all from nothing but his simple touch. his words were filled with such lewdness, each time his digits rummage through your cunt, that same pop noise commences. so wet, you were in the midst of approaching your climax. it came at such a speed, your thighs shook and your jaw was practically hanging open.

it’s coming, it’s coming..

those exact words kept echoing into your brain, pant after pant departing from your lips before you whine.

“suku—m-my lorddd,” and once you correct yourself, he again pulls out his fingers covered in your sheeny slick before spanking your cunt. “oh, ohmygodddd, ‘m gonna c-cum, feel it coming, p-please.”

“what if i don’t want you to cum yet?” he teases, dragging his middle finger down your slit. by this point, your legs were a mess—shaking so strenuously that it brought jagged earthquakes to shame. the rupture that was about to take place was reaching at such a speed that even you couldn’t keep up. his warm breath fans against your earlobe before he lightly bites into your neck. “what if i want you to wait a little lo—”

“s-sukuna, sukuna, fuuuck,” you whine out, not even caring you broke character— it finally came, and not only did you climax but you ended up squirting. it shot out and he goes quiet, a devilish snicker shortly following afterward.

instantly, a crying orgasm gets tugged from your throat and you whine once he plugs his fingers back into your slick folds.

“. . awww,” he purrs seductively against your ear, watching as you lose yourself right on his lap. your legs fail to remain still, you were seeing pure splotches of white. your stomach seizes as you resume to breathe, heavy breaths snatching from your throat before you rub against his wrist for the umpteenth time. “you made a mess on my lap, naughty girl,” and then he chuckles once you pick up his hand only to make him continue to feel against your pussy. “should make you get on your knees ‘n clean it. like the good obedient girl you are. my little squirter girl.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

choso craves dry humping, he’s a needy baby. doesn’t even want you to strip your clothes off. he just needs you, no, he wants you.

“i missed you too, choso,” you’d giggle, feeling him wrap his strong broad arms around you. he was so warm, immediately as you walk through the door, you feel him press up against you. his scent, he smelled so good— it goes through your sinuses before you gasp once he makes you bend over the counter. “heh, baby. i can’t shower first?”

“. . . wait,” is all he says, his voice shakes as he brings clammy hands towards your hips. hitched breaths slip from his mouth as he whines, suppressing a few moans by sucking against your neck. such tender skin, he feels so hot and dizzy. choso’s wearing nothing but sweats. as you’re hunched over the kitchen counter, you feel the imprint of his exhilarated dick galvanize against your shorts. “i missed you all day today,” and his voice—although it being low, it was so sweet and genuine. a hint of want and desire runs underneath it and he makes your hips slowly grind against him. “sososo bad,” he swallows, the teeth shattering friction making cute whimpers elicit out from his sheeny spit-glossed lips. “i want you, i want you, can we—can i do this?”

you let off a small laugh. “can you what, hump me? why not just fuck me, baby. i’ll just—”

“no, nooo please,” he murmurs in a shaky voice, stopping you from pulling down your shorts. “this is fine, i don’t want you to . . to take off your clothes. i just . . i want you, i want you like this.”

you can’t help but feel your pussy twitch at his words, not just his words but his entire deliver of it all. “go ahead, baby,” you mutter in a soft encouraging voice, grabbing onto the edge of the cold counter. you could have sworn you heard a sweet cacophonies of ‘thank you, thank you’s’ escape past his lips.

he’s so needy, trembling breaths waft against your skin as he’s making your ass go up on him. with two hands, he grabs the mounds of your rear before giving it a slight teasing squeeze.

“babyyy,” he whimpers, gently seeping his teeth into your neck. softly, he sucks against the skin, feeling a little mark press into your skin from his canines. “god, i want you so bad. you feel so good against me like this, s-so warm,” and his words almost sound angelic. you giggle, starting to move against his sweatpants as he holds your waist. “yeah, keep doing that. f-fuck against me, please,” and your rhythm was slow but steady. you can feel his bulge press up against your shorts, he was big.

you only imagine how he’d feel from the inside— not just grinding against him, although you weren’t relatively complaining. not at all, the friction felt way too good. even you started to moan a bit once he makes the swerving of your hips pick up just a bit faster.

choso gasps—once your ass brushes up a particular spot, he whines. “o-oh fuck,” and you’re curious as to what happened—but instead of saying anything, he just starts to hump against you harder. “f-fuck, fuck, ‘m so hard. gonna make me cum through my p-pants, baby fuuuck.”

he became more and more vocal as the minute passes—you were feeling the heat brew up, not only against your ass but into the very depths of your abdomen too. choso’s usual pent up hair was down, going all in his face and he moans at your next few words. “it’s okay, baby. you can make a mess on me. cum for me, ‘cho.”

“your voice alone ‘s gonna make me a messy boy,” he whimpers out, feeling the brief twinge— the strain of his cock making him kiss his teeth in pleasure. “gonna c-cum, gonna cum,” he chants, and his voice was getting raspier and raspier. you swerve your ass against him ever more before seconds later—you feel a sudden damp spot.

choso grows quiet, looking down to see the slowly darkening spot coat against the grey fabric of his sweats. “hngh,” he pants, holding you still. you giggle, facing forward and it’s almost as if you can feel his eyes stare down your back. “this is the f-fifth time i ruined my sweats you bought me, baby.” he pouts, now wanting to feel the real thing—being inside of you, falling in love with the warmth of your pussy burying inside of him yet again.

“i’ll wash it for you,” you hum, turning around to finally face him. he’s so cute— flustered entirely, despite it just being dry humping, it might as well pass as simple doggystyle for choso. you stroke his cheek, bringing a kiss towards the side of his lips before his mouth twitches. adorable. “you wanna join me in the shower, baby?”

“o-oh, yes please,” he nods, and he grabs onto your hand. “can we . . can we do this in the shower too?”

you sneer, intertwining your fingers with his as he leads the way. “yeah, but this time with our clothes off okay?”

“okay.”

“good boy.”

“m-mhm.”

☆ GOJO SATORU.

gojo likes to be tied up and restrained—blindfolded even, he loves it all.

“mhm, make it tight too baby,” he teasingly says, lowering his voice purposefully. you’re straddling him, feeling his dick bury inside of you idly before you shoot him a glare. he rolls his eyes once you successfully wrap the blindfold around his eyes, then proceeding to tie up his wrists. “hehe, i’m only letting you do this because i’m bored, just so y’know.”

“shut up,” you mumble, flicking him back. he lands against the pillow and that same sly grin never leaves his face. gojo’s impatient— albeit, the downside would be that he wouldn’t be able to touch you. that thought alone brings a pout to his face. “are you ready now? or do i need to hold your hand.”

gojo giggles. “ooh, someone’s sassy today. i like that,” and he feels your hips starting to move. his hands were stretched out against the bed and he grunts once he feels your warmth hug him tight like a vice. “i let you get away with hah anything.”

“yeah you do,” you whisper, watching as he moves his head around a bit at the sound of your voice—he’s so hot, his entire body temperature rises up the more you grind your hips forward. gojo tries to maintain his little tough act but fails miserably, he’s quite literally folding underneath you. your fingers run down his neck and a moan slips out. “still sensitive from cumming too early, pretty boy?”

“don’t call me . . . that,” he swallows, another moan eliciting from his throat once you kiss all over his face. your touch, his true weakness. it had him feral, the way your ass grinds against him makes him suck his teeth. “but baby, this is torture,” he pants out, feeling your hands roam everywhere on his body— he tenses up, feeling your fingers skim against his bare chest. “if you can touch me, i should t-touch you too.”

“you always touch me,” you murmur, and he’s so deep— the fatness of his cock stuffs your cunt full to where you’re squeezing him down. he groans, wishing that he could just hold onto your hip. gojo’s head goes back and he smothers his glossed lips together. with the brief swivel turning of your hips, you move against him faster until he starts to spasm underneath you. “aw, so you are still sensitive from cumming too early, ‘toru.”

he groans, a pout spreading against his lips before he whimpers. “i—i’m not,” and he pauses his words before out of nowhere— slip.

gojo’s dick slips out of you and the moment it does, he goes ballistic.

“w-what happened?” he whines, feeling his now flaccid cock slither underneath your folds. you just sit there— almost forgetting he couldn’t exactly see, only feel. he’s all flustered, feeling your folds gradually rub against his length. “f-fuck, put it back in. don’t grind on me, angel.”

“i don’t think you deserve it yet,” you tease, reaching between his legs to stroke his dick. gojo groans, and he’s really feeling everything. the nerves inside his body had him shaking, your touch alone drove him crazy— once he slipped out, gojo wouldn’t stop begging and pleading for you to put it back in. the pout on his face never leaves before you kiss his lips as an attempt to shut him up. he doesn’t though, each mwah from you and he continues to speak, a total blabbermouth. “not until you say pretty please.”

he grouses stubbornly. “huhhh. do you know who i am?”

“you’re a bottom who’s underneath me.” you snicker.

gojo’s at a loss for words, damn. that was probably true— to be fair, he was underneath you. you were straddling his lap, watching as he becomes more and more needy for you to be inside. his hips sweetly jitters from the sudden yearn for you to be back inside. he missed the warmth of your gummy walls gripping him down tightly. “you’re being a brat, you just wanna hear the strongest beg for you, huh?”

“the strongest but i’m the only one who can make you whimper.” you kiss underneath his chin, watching as his dimples poke into his skin.

“if i wasn’t restrained i’d have pinned you down, hmph,” and his pout only stretches. you drag your pussy against his length before he eats his words, a cute whine escaping. “y-you fuckin’ brat, when ‘m free it’s over,” and his lip quivers. “baby, just put it back in, okayyy okay.”

you hum, wrapping your arms around him and he loses himself from your touch. his dick was so hard, pinkish tip desperately awaiting to be stuffing you full by now, but alas—you were stalling. “say pretty please ‘n i’ll put it back in.”

after fourteen tremendously long seconds, gojo gives in with a cute whimper following. “pretty please, pretty please put it back in so i can f-fuck you again.”

“so good for me,” you kiss his cheek, watching him quaver from your touch—he’s panting heavily before he feels your hand wrap around his cock, aligning yourself again. “aw. the strongest, more like the whiniest.”

“i— i hate you,” he whimpers at you mocking his infamous title. “now finish fucking me, brat. pleaseee.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

he’s definitely into face fucking, if he’s ever annoyed about something or needs to unwind after a long day, the solution is nothing more than your pretty tight throat.

“knees, girl. get down f’me.”

you’d comply, your knees hitting against the soft carpet before you stare up at him—he inhales, sharp gaze lowering at you. “boo. eye problem?” he sassily says, a hand lightly grabbing onto your hair, using your head as leverage. “you know what to do. need to feel that fuckin’ mouth.”

“could be a little nicer.”

“don’t try me, little girl.”

toji takes a breath, watching as you unzip his jeans—always, he had such a bulge to him. it never failed to poke out through his pants. so delicious, you lick your lips at the sight of his hefty boxers all out in the open—basking in your pure eyesight. you don’t waste any time, whipping out his thick cock. he’s so pent up, angry mushroom tip a pinkish red color. toji’s got a few specks of black hair that coats near his base, a gossamer string of spit departs from your lips the moment you kiss his tip sloppily.

“. . . yeahhh,” he rasps out lowly, fingertips dragging through your scalp. toji’s standing tall, his dick had somewhat of a upward curve to it. with staggering inches, you were always taken aback, he loved feeling the brush of your lips skim across his frenulum. a strained breath yanks out from his lungs once he starts to feel you sink down. your throat was so warm, so wet, so tight. his head throws itself back and he chews down on the soft part of his bottom lip. “thaaaat’s it, take that shit. take it down, babygirl.”

you’re slow with your pace, taking him all the way in until his tip mashes against the roof of your mouth. if it wasn’t for your technique of breathing through your nose, you’d gag. a hand was just about to wrap around his length before he lightly smacks it away. “nuh uh, no hands. you got it.”

he snickers at your pout, watching as your hands go back down toward your sides. you make sure to swirl your tongue against his leaky tip, your pace was perfect— he swallows, tightening his grip against your hair before he makes you go faster. your head’s bobbling, quickening before by this point he’s purely face fucking you now.

“s-shit, good girl. ya gonna let me ruin this mascara, yeah?” and his voice itself was the definition of seduction—so rough, gravelly with each syllable it pronounces. your tongue lays flat, wrapping your lips around his dick before his thigh starts to bounce. “. . . damn,” he huffs out, and your jaw starts to feel heavy over time. toji’s so big, the sensation of your tongue has his head spinning. “keep those pretty eyes up here,” he murmurs, another free hand gripping underneath your chin. what a mess, your own saliva starts to pour down the sides of your mouth. “such a sloppy girl,” he titters, swiping a thumb against your lips. you stare right into his eyes and he returns you with nothing more but a sly smirk. “my sloppy girl though, right?”

you nod, feeling your mascara start to run— still, you’re breathing through your nose before you feel him start to tense up. “ah, fuck,” he grumbles, now he’s just kissing the back of your throat with his rude cockhead. “mhm, this sloppy throat ‘s gonna make me flood it with cum,” and green viridescent eyes flicker back down at you. he lightly taps against your cheek, feeling the outline of his dick. “thirsty, baby? been talkin’ about how much you had nothin’ to drink.”

again, you nod your head whilst still giving him eye contact. toji’s got your mouth stuffed full— he groans lowly, practically dragging your head back and forth against his cock. “yeah you are. open up that jaw for me ‘n i’ll clench that thirst, baby,” and he feels your maw open—your tongue lays flat, and you know he’s preparing to release. you start to even feel yourself throb between your thighs, yet you stop yourself from touching yourself. “so pretty,” he puffs out in short singular breaths. with a hand, toji wraps his right hand around his fat girth of a length before he pulls his dick out. “say ah.”

“ah,” you mimic, lolling out your tongue for him and he sneers at how obedient you were—so good for him, pink tongue ready to be painted with nothing but his worthy semen. tongue pointed out, toji fists his cock a few times—giving it a few solid pumps on your tongue before momentarily, he cums. thick satiny ropes, the moment it shoots out into your throat, upon instinct your eyes briefly squeeze shut from the taste. bitterly bitter, yet you wanted all of it. every single drop. you moan, awaiting for him to finish pouring every drop inside.

“f-fuuuck,” he grunts, painting the inside of your mouth with such strings of cum that it leaves your cheeks all puffed up. “swallow it, baby,” he mumbles, completely out of breath. you do, a few remnants of his seed glistening on your lips before he squeezes your cheeks together. “good,” and he bends down to your level, pushing your lips together. toji slyly grins, staring into your eyes before murmuring. “now, give me a kiss. don’t be greedy, i want a taste too.”

you whine, pulling him into a sultry, sloppy kiss. tongues collide against each other— tangling and twisting, various strings saliva forming into a cobweb before he pulls away, licking near the bottom of your lip where a few sprinkles of his own cum remained. “still thirsty?”

“y-yes, toji.”

“heh. thought so. dehydrated ass girl.”

[kaynanarie]

JourneyTober! Day 5 - Lotus

            Through the heart of the forest, a gentle brook weaved its way between tree roots and stubborn stone. Sunlight danced along the surface of the crystal-clear water, the current slow but deep. Speckled rocks and flittering fish could be seen all the way down to the bottom. It flowed over a rocky outcrop and into a tinkling waterfall before continuing its leisurely journey.

            “This is the perfect place to rest!” Jen declared. She dropped her backpack and perched on a nearby boulder to admire the scenery. Behind her, Monkey huffed but accepted the impromptu break. “It’s so peaceful. And look at all the flowers!”

            Decorating the side of the waterfall, lotuses were growing out of the craggy surface, delicate pink blossoms swaying against dark stone.

            “They’re so lovely; too bad they’re way up there. They must be pretty tough to grow so high up.”

            Jen dug around in her pack, handing Monkey her calabash. He took both gourds to fill with water while Jen laid out some fruit to snack on. Instead of the usual creek-side refill, Jen turned to find Monkey scaled halfway up the cliff face, already filling the second calabash directly from the waterfall. Jen just shrugged it off, leaving him to his business and munched on a handful of slightly squished berries.

            Despite the warm day, the shade was cool and the brook’s mist on the breeze was refreshing. Taking a deep breath, Jen closed her eyes to enjoy the serenity of the forest. Birds twittered in the air overhead. Leaves rustled and whispered from their branches. The gentle babbling of the brook blended into the soothing ambiance.

            Then the tranquility was shattered by a surprised yelp and loud splash.  

            Whirling around, Jen found Monkey in the pool at the base of the waterfall. He waded back to shore, his clothes and fur soaking wet. Even his poor tail was flattened and dripping water.

            “Oh my god, what happened?” Jen asked, yanking a blanket from her backpack and hurrying to him. Monkey didn't answer, face flushed and eyes averted in embarrassment. “Are you okay? Here, use this to dry off.”

            Jen tried to hand him the blanket but both his hands were full. One was still clutching the ties of the gourds. The other was holding something new. When Monkey noticed Jen’s gaze, his face burned brighter red and his tail lashed anxiously behind him. Before she could figure out what it was, the object was practically shoved in her face.

            It was one of the lotuses, freshly plucked from the waterfall. It’s delicate, pink petals were still sparkling with water droplets. The full bloom was wider than her palm and soft to the touch. She gently took the flower from Monkey’s grasp, eyes wide as she glanced from the gift back to him.

            “Did you pick this for me?” Jen asked, her cheeks turning a rosy hue.

            Monkey gave a curt nod, shuffling nervously in place. He still refused to look up, studying the patterns of water dripping off his frame. As touching as the gift was, seeing her monkey so miserable was too much for Jen to bear.

            “Why don’t we just camp here for the night? I’ll get some firewood and we can get you dried off, okay?”

            Again, Monkey only nodded but relaxed a bit at the suggestion. Tucking the lotus behind one ear, Jen unfolded the blanket and leaned in close to wrap it around his tall figure.

            “Thank you for the flower, it’s beautiful,” she whispered by his ear before pressing a soft kiss to his furred cheek.

            Monkey froze; eyes wide, wet fur puffed out, his tail stock-still. A surprised little chirrup rumbled from his chest when Jen pulled back with a giggle. By the time his senses returned to him, Jen had already skipped out of the clearing for firewood, leaving Monkey to ponder the all-too-brief kiss.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------(It shouldn't have taken me all day to write this and yet.)

[xarrixii]

F/B Chapter_45 : "Operative"

CW: guns, gunshots, child trafficking, choking, police, overall violence previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

/ / / / / | ---

Liam’s eyes traveled up and down the neon-lit sign of a woman spinning around a pole and chuckled. “Y’know, last time we were here, I kidnapped you.”

Harlow almost snorted, watching Liam rifle through his vest and make sure he had everything. “I feel like you also called me hot.”

“Funny how that works, isn’t it?” Liam looked up into the blackened sky and adjusted his sunglasses and mask. “This place is different without rain. Feels dirtier.” Then he turned and knocked on the truck while leaning against it. “Ains, man, the gun?”

“Find it yourself if you’re gonna be pushy about it,” Ainsley growled from inside. “I’m not the one who loaded the truck like it was a cache.”

“They’re under the seats.” Then Liam turned back to Harlow. “It was a reflection of someone else’s thinking, by the way. I’m like fifteen years older than you, that’s weird. Spend too much time in someone else’s head and everything starts needing a distiller to separate.”

Harlow cracked a smile and raised an eyebrow. “That is the worst excuse I have ever heard in my life.”

Ainsley tossed Liam his semi-automatic through the driver’s seat window and then leaned out of it to stare at them both. Liam caught it, raising an eyebrow right back at Harlow before looking back at the sign and blacked-out windows.

“Remember, Bauer,” Ainsley took out a cigarette and lit it with his thumb. He gave himself a nice smoke before continuing, “No blood ‘till we get the marks out of there.”

Liam lightly punched Harlow’s arm. “Get in there and make a good impression, Ben.”

“That’s the best you came up with?” Ainsley took a long puff of cigarette before tossing the still-lit thing to Harlow.

“After this one’s favorite band.”

“When did you even learn that?” Harlow scoffed. He stuffed the cigarette into his pocket as Liam shrugged and grinned as a response. He walked across the street and past the drunkards leaning on the exterior walls and opened the blacked-out door, senses immediately overwhelmed by light and color and the reek of alcohol mixed with some kind of flower he supposed was trying to overrun the sickliness of the rest of the air. Or was that just...? No, that was definitely weed.

The cigarette fire bloomed beneath his hand.

“You must be Ben,” a man trilled with a rotted smile. Harlow turned his head, making sure to carefully place an expression of annoyance and disgust. “I understand, I understand! This place must be beneath someone like you. This way, man.”

“The depravity of you all,” Harlow mumbled for effect, adjusting the white glove on his left hand. The man gave a coarse laugh in response, leading Harlow back to a connected storage garage as though this were some funny occasion.

Harlow was going to hate every second of this.

The man pushed open the handle door after shoving his key into it and led Harlow into the small enclosure, clicking the door shut and locked while Harlow adjusted his tie based off feeling alone. Then he nocked his sunglasses back up his nose.

The overhead light came on with an audible dink, shrouding the garage that was longer than it was wide in a cream light. There weren’t any storage containers, just the stool the man immediately ventured to and scribbled Ben with capital BE and lowercase n.

Faint red light peeked out of the garage door to the street, and Harlow turned behind him where the garage ended at the other wall.

It took everything in him not to puke in that instant, to keep his face straightly dissatisfied by hygienic standards, to keep his entire body rooted in place as the overly-excited, weed-smelling man draped an arm over his shoulder and whistled.

“Aren’t they pretty?”

His heart crunched up. “With a bath, maybe.”

He feigned readjusting his sunglasses again, tapping on the radio insert close to his ear four times, once for each tied up and hand-bound kid in the corner.

The man grinned and gestured Harlow take the file gripped in a sweaty hand still swung around Harlow’s shoulders. He swiped it before smacking the hand off with as much indifference as he could physically stand. A lifetime of dinner parties with his mom’s army friends prepared him for this.

To stay calm in this moment.

“That in there is all correct?” the man asked, humming and jumping off the short ramp connecting the club and garage floors to hover near the kids, looking back only to smile at Harlow.

“Unless you count some of your spelling.” Harlow knocked some of the cigarette ash off the page before stuffing that hand back in his pocket and snapping the file shut. “Now that I know it’s alive, I’d frankly like to stop looking at it to go finalize.”

The man giggled. “Yes, yes! Let’s go. I have an office inside the club. You’re willing to take off that glove for your prints, yes?”

“If I wanted to shut down your operation, the cops would already be on their way.” Harlow strolled back to the door leading into the club, unlocking it and glaring as he stepped out, taking a deep breath before the man followed him back into the noise.

“This way!” the man shouted over some song Harlow didn’t recognize yet everyone else was singing along to just fine. Harlow watched one guy enter the garage as he was taken up a stairwell and two more guard the door. Obvious rifles on display.

Looking at it now⸺

Harlow made sure there was still a pistol beneath his buttoned suit jacket when no one had eyes on him.

This is about to get ugly.

He internally cringed at the thought, but the man in front of him—nor anyone else who seemed vaguely familiated with the trafficking—made a gesture. Which likely meant there was no telepath drifting at the edge of his head and that he could relax.

Just before my all clear, really? Liam posted back.

There’s a few more guns than we planned for.

Welcome to Cairn, land of the free and land of the gun. Liam internally scoffs, seeming to relay that information to someone else before asking, How many?

Along the lines of everyone who works here, Harlow took one final look at everything before being led into the office space cluttered with cheap storage containers on equally cheap wire shelving.

Oh, great.

Harlow’s eyes must have danced on the storage containers for too long because the man was suddenly in his face again holding a sheet of paper and an ink pad.

“Antsy, are we?”

“Didn’t realize this dump had so much business,” Harlow took both items and was guided over to a table.

The man hummed with a toothy grin. “We’ve been getting pretty good at it. Enforcement doesn’t really come around these parts anymore. Not to say this place isn’t secure, we still take every precaution.”

Harlow’s eyes sharpened as he removed both gloves and set them on the table.

“You need any help with that?” the man asked as though to distract from the more than obvious lie.

“No.” Harlow had only done it every time he went into rehab. He strengthened the fire in the cigarette still settled in his pocket, building it up as he stamped each finger onto the little stupid card for this idiot. The man turned to anxiously rifle through the wire shelf as Harlow swiped on a glove and got up with as little noise as possible, unbuttoning the stupid suit jacket on the way. Garage, now—“I’ll be taking the kids.”

One finger to the back of his neck. The man’s head hit the shelf on the way down, connecting to the concrete floor with an uncomfortable smack. Harlow put on the other glove again, tapping the paper card with just enough fire to get it burning as a woman opened the door with a rifle pointed at Harlow’s face.

He was already putting on a mask under the sunglasses.

“On the ground,” the bodyguard voiced before she, too, collapsed onto the floor. Ainsley snickered, stepping over the body with another member of Cinder’s arsenal.

“Cops ETA three minutes, make it count with that bagel-obsessed douchebag.” Ainsley nodded at Harlow as he left the room. The other person was immediately engrossed in the records when the first gunshot went off, followed by silence. Then the second, followed by screams running for the doors.

Harlow’s handgun was out, one bullet making peace with an armed bartender’s foot before he took cover behind the solid metal railing to a round of automatic.

Yeah, make it sixty seconds. Patrol just went by, all they have to do is round the damn block, Liam came through again. Kids are in the truck driving away, Urban, can you make it to their surveillance room?

I can sure as hell try, you know where that is by chance? Harlow took a chance to peek just over the rail, ducking as a round whizzed over his head.

Just under the staircase.

In that case, I’m trapped.

Liam paused, and a few gunshots slung through the room. Consider it covered. Move.

Harlow got to his feet and descended the steps, taking a glance up at the second floor as he rounded and crouched under a metal-backed booth seat. The frosted glass pane lining the top of it shattered and settled on the floor around him. Ainsley, guy at your door.

Appreciated, Ainsley gave back.

“Shit,” Harlow hissed after reaching and failing to unlock the door. Keycard chip, like this club knew it needed higher security, as if that hadn’t been blatant already. His first instinct was to ask Ainsley for the probably-unconscious guy upstairs above him, but...

He fiddled out the lit cigarette from his pocket, dragging it across the door’s handle side until it swung open, melted metal dripping onto the floor and cooling solid.

The gun spun out from his hand onto the tile, head thunking into the wall just as sirens started to whoop from outside the club, barely heard over the blaring music and the punch wound into Harlow’s face. The cigarette dropped and the security guard stomped on it before Harlow could gain enough sense back to use it.

Fuck, can’t, he sputtered mentally, fist closing around his neck.

“They brought a fucking D?” the assailant spat in Harlow’s face, actually laughing. “Sorry excuse for the underground police. That why you’ve all fucked off lately?”

Ainsley caught onto it quick. Liam, go after him.

I’m not running into whatever kinetic fuckery the cops brought with them.

Christ above, Ainsley flooded Harlow’s head with a low growl. I’ve got a flame for you.

Everything flooded in black, and it took every bit of himself to keep cognitive control over his kinetic. He felt desperately for Ainsley’s fire outside the room and latched on, finger curling where it gripped his assailant’s wrist, snapping the fire into the room. “Eat shit.”

The security guard dropped to the floor, Harlow dodging the grip as Liam yelled to get down and a spatter of ice shards came through at chest height, nicking the walls before melting and returning back to sender. Harlow’s head spun, coughing blankly into the floor. The world came back with one hand over his own throat.

We’ve got a Kepler, Harlow pushed.

Liam took no time in changing the plan, Raymond and Ainsley, switch, I need our marksman up front. Nick, where’s the truck?

Harlow scrambled weakly off from the floor while Nick—the one driving the kids to a safer location—and Liam argued about switching the original location to get the truck back. Nick was arguing that the kids couldn’t be left alone, and Ainsley shot back a remark to figure it out a little faster. Harlow was met with a password screen and cursed aloud while everyone else argued in his head.

Leave them on 2204 West Vanderpull. I know a guy that’ll guard ‘em there, Raymond cut in.

That doesn’t have anything to do with the other thing, does it? Liam queried a little angrier than he intended, evident by the voice’s snap backing off slightly after the words were out.

Shut up and do it.

Nick made some mental noise of affirmation.

Liam, Harlow took his turn, I need the password from this knocked out guy.

Are you fucking with me? Liam groaned back.

Cops know this guy, Bauer, Ainsley said.

Liam responded with some kind of grumble before actual words, Urban, we’re switching. If I find out the password is written on some sticky note under the desk later then Lord help me.

Cops. Harlow was more than familiar with dealing with police officers, especially since Raiden had introduced him to so many. Harlow’s main concern was why Kepler was already in this area. He didn’t typically do patrols as the chief. What had he been chasing after that he abandoned for the shootout?

I can make that work, Raymond chimed.

Harlow picked up his gun from the ground and met Liam in the doorway, taking his bag from Liam and crouching behind the ice-hole spattered booth seating. The only thing this provided now was a sight blocker.

He shoved the pistol back into the holster and opted for his lighter instead, collecting it from the combat leg-bag now fit tight against him.

Urban, can Kepler draw his water from the air?

He was tempted to say no. Weakly. Being A-class if you have a kinetic is a requirement for the force.

Right, damn it.

We’d still be removing his crutch.

Raymond considered that. Alright. Then we’re keeping my plan. I turn it to water, you evaporate as much of it as possible. Before I tire out while Liam fucks a guy in the head.

Kick yourself, Liam said.

Lots of swearing today, Ainsley hummed.

Some of Liam’s searching invaded the telecommunication as he talked, Yeah well shit’s going wrong.

Raymond’s plan ended up being scarily efficient, and soon they were back to defending gun rounds only from the other guys still in the club. Liam cursed at the same time as some form of joy.

Password obtained, but police are calling more backup. We need a safe exit. Urban, work on knocking out the guys with the shot feet. Ainsley⸺

Just one second, Bauer, I’m almost done. Files laid all nice and pretty on the table for our government enforcers in like one minute. Then I’ll get on cracking a hole open to the roof. Ainsley laughed. Not like they don’t have a helicopter on its way by now.

Nick, where are you? Liam sent.

Nick didn’t respond. Harlow had already surged a bartender, and another shot Harlow once in the vest before getting tackled and knocked out. Harlow let out a late yelp, seething behind the bar and immediately picking the metal bullet from out of the vest.

Nick!

Did he go out of range? Ainsley replied.

Stay still, I’ll redo the net, Liam hissed.

Harlow felt the three other voices in his head poke out as he made sure he wasn’t bleeding, then got to his feet again and decided to slice through each gun with a flick of enraged fire first before approaching. It was just gunshots and the shink of ice slamming into walls.

Fuckin’ ow, Liam said. Say hi everyone.

No one said hello.

Are we all ready? I’m like two blocks down next to a taco place. Nick seemed pleased.

Records set with the decrypter. Harlow looked up to see Ainsley giving the thumbs-up on the second story, running for the roof exit and passing by Raymond. Raymond nodded at Harlow to make his way back to the stairwell, which was significantly easier than getting away from it in the first place.

Liam left the security room and started firing off pretty much every round he must have had left to allow Harlow up the stairs. Harlow snapped the fire off his lighter to form a wall neither side could see through, other hand grabbing at his handgun and firing through it where he knew would be above peoples’ heads.

“Let’s go!” Liam shouted after catching up, and all of them—including Raymond—made like hell to the roof stairs where Harlow clicked the lighter shut to dissolve the fire.

“Ladder over here!” Ainsley beckoned everyone over just before sliding down with his gloves.

The four stayed quiet, running through an alley and then straight through a street Ainsley had gotten ahead to block cars from running through. Nick helped Ainsley onto the back of the armored truck first, then she ran back to the driver’s seat so Ainsley could help everyone else on as a police car rounded the corner.

“Shut the door!” Raymond yelled as the first few bullets whizzed into the truck, even though Harlow and Liam already had them halfway shut.

The truck kicked off.

Bullets ricocheted off the back a few times before stopping, but the sirens didn’t as Nick swerved the truck around corners. Liam watched Ainsley take a few shallow breaths and took the stray bullet from the floor to flick at him. “That’s what you get for getting out of shape.”

Raymond looked at the door. Why isn’t that officer firing ice anymore?

“Getting circled,” Nick called. “Gonna change the route, we have to pass by district one’s station to get out of this. I don’t have any other options and I will take no criticism.”

“Murphy’s the clerk,” Harlow climbed into the passenger to tell her. “He’s a geo, we can’t⸺”

BRACE! Liam’s voice racketed through everyone’s brains a second before the truck flew off the ground and a spike of ice shot the armor. Nick unbuckled from the now useless driver’s seat as another spike shot through the middle and stopped the truck from sliding.

“Christ,” Raymond breathed. “Poor infrastructure.”

Ainsley carefully moved from where he’d gotten pressed into the truck. It groaned beneath him. “Be happy none of us got fuckin’ impaled.”

Harlow’s entire body shook as he flattened against the nearest surface. They were getting trapped. Fast. A megaphone sounded from down below where they all hung suspended by ice quickly cracking under pressure.

Think, damn you. “Nick, the kids are on, what was it?”

“2204 West Vanderpull,” Raymond said before Nick. Nick nodded.

Harlow didn’t even get to say it aloud before Liam was responding mentally. Got it. Break for it, kid. Ray, time for a little platforming fun. Ains, cover. Nick, get Urban down there safely and find a god-damned way out of this. Urban, I’ll keep my head open for you.

“I hate you,” Raymond hissed back.

“Well I can’t exactly make solid ice platforms in the middle of the air now can I? Get your Morgen-trained ass going…” Liam’s voice trailed off when Harlow finished cutting a hole in the side of the truck and jumped out with a trail of unwound flame from the lighter.

Tuck and roll! Nick yelled as the telepathy cut, and the air beat against Harlow’s limbs as he hit the ground and took off down the sidewalk, pain racketing up from the safe but not quite cushy landing.

A siren whoop followed him, each swing of his arm through the pace used to charge up the fire. He was suddenly very thankful for the sunglasses scraping the sun from his eyes, for the years and years of running home late knowing it would only get worse.

It gets better, Harlow screamed to himself to overrun the thought. You’re making it better.

You’re making it better.

His feet packed into the concrete, throwing up the fire at each point of ice that tried to pin him to something, anything, for long enough to grab at him. Kepler was ordering pedestrians out of the way, the old man’s agility astounding enough to keep up when Harlow darted into the subway and jumped the toll gate without much thought about it, flicking the lighter closed.

Harlow pushed through the crowded congregation waiting for the next train, legs giving out as he looked behind him to see Kepler still on his radio, although with significantly more distance.

He jumped another toll and the lighter came open again. His bag slapped someone as he ran by, finally hitting dead in the middle of 2204 West Vanderpull with Kepler still on his trail, making a point to run past the four kids crowded just outside the closed arcade in a blanket with some guy who immediately halted Kepler about it.

Breath was failing to pass in and out of Harlow’s lungs in early January’s cold, shaking from the same adrenaline that pushed him forward as he found a safe space to fall against a wall and feel the biting air mixed with sweat.

Liam. Harlow set his head against the wall and sputtered wildly for a few breaths. I’m on Halver, behind a Five Guys with a hotel on top.

Heard, Liam returned.

Harlow laughed until it caused pain near where the bullet had hit the vest earlier, then hissed silently, then caught his breath. Minutes passed where he barely felt like he could see the wall in front of him.

I feel sick, Harlow drawled mentally, still out of breath when Liam, Ainsley, Nick, and Raymond caught up in some random black minivan. Where did this come from?

“Cinder’s got quick getaways littered in a lot of places,” Nick smiled with a full grin.

It was when they were debriefing in a Cinder meeting room that the police radio ticked off the initial investigation and subsequent arrests of potential trafficking suspects. An hour later the call came in that all four kids had been identified and were being brought home.

Harlow had given a sigh of relief and gone to his dorm for an outfit change.

Cheering followed behind the smile on his face.

next chapter | masterlist

/ / / / / | --- missing a content warning? let me know

if anyone's wondering what the first few paragraphs of this chapter are referencing, it's Chapter 6 / Acid Rain

also is this, does this count as whump?

taglist (ask to go on or off): @lychhiker-writes, @madeoforgansandtissues, @fins0up

[ladybugpowermakeup]

Gnome and Northwest

I was dared to do this by my boyfriend, so enjoy the crack fic!

_________________

Pacifica shook her head and dipped the brush back into the nail polish. 

“If she wanted to marry you, she would have done it already. Just let it go already!” 

The tiny form sitting across from her at the vanity table glared back at her. 

“She deserted me and then double crossed me by trying to set me up with that white-haired girl!”

“She’s fourteen. You’re a hundred and eight.” Pacifica said, not taking her eyes off of her nail polish as she added a second coat.

“I’m a hundred and five!”

“Whatever. Still not legal. Besides, aren’t there any female gnomes?” 

“Yes, but it’s not the same…”

Pacifica finally looked her unlikely friend dead in the eye. 

“Look. Jeff. I know you’ve set your heart on Mabel, but you need to understand that this obsession with finding a girl is not healthy. Especially when she’s not even a part of your community. Why do you need to find a queen so badly?”

Jeff removed his hand from under the UV light and inspected his own freshly painted nails. 

“It’s an issue of power. The queen deals with all kinds of problems in the woods. Squirrel uprisings, butterfly trafficking laws, hat maker unions - it’s all her. And I just thought Mabel would be the one to make some big changes, the kind that would be so very… her. And then I could have a more secure place in the hierarchy.” 

“So it’s not about your feelings? It’s all political?”

“Pretty much. And ever since she left me at the altar the other gnomes don’t respect--”

Pacifica glared at him. 

“I’ve heard the whole story from Dipper. Don’t even try to pull that with me. You had her tied up and chased them down the forest when she tried to leave.”

“Don’t remind me.” Jeff said. “That was not my proudest moment.” Then a word she had said clearly struck him and he looked at her penetratingly. Pacifica looked back at him defiantly. 

“What?”

“Dipper? 

 “What about him?”

Jeff gave her a knowing grin, and to her irritation Pacifica felt her face redden. 

“He’s a good friend, okay?”

“Sure.” Jeff said. “A good friend who shows you his journals and tells you all the cool things he’s done?”

“Including tricking you into getting blown away by a leaf blower?”

Jeff grinned. 

“First of all, that was Mabel with the leaf blower, not Dipper. And secondly - just because he pulled one over on me doesn’t mean I can’t be impressed.”

Pacifica grinned in spite of herself. 

“Fair enough. Yes, Dipper told me some of the stories as he was showing me the journal. But it’s nothing more than that.”

Jeff’s grin told her that he wouldn’t buy this, but she certainly wasn’t going to let him into her more inner feelings. They might be friends, but not that close of friends. 

Their weekend spa days and gossip sessions had started months ago, after the Pines twins left for Piedmont again. Pacifica had been walking away from Greasy’s - trying to convince her parents that she was in the right for getting a job there had been a hassle, but she’d managed it eventually - when she saw the group of gnomes reaching up the window for the cornbread Susan had left on the sill. Jeff was on the edge of the group, directing their every move.

“Easy on the left, there, Mark. And be careful to not leave any crumbs!” 

Pacifica, having just left the kitchen, knew that Susan had another pan of cornbread coming out soon, and so with her newly-gained conscience, she reached over the gnomes and lifted the pan down from the sill, handing it to the very confused Jeff. 

“Look, if you’re that hungry, just go through the trash next time. We’re always throwing out perfectly good stuff.”

“We’re not looking for handouts, lady!” Jeff had shouted, but the other gnomes were already running towards the back of the diner. Jeff watched them in growing misery, and Pacifica felt compelled to ask.

“What’s going on there?”

Jeff sighed and rubbed his forehead under his hat. 

“They’re… I don’t know, they’ve been like this recently. Not listening to me, not taking orders, not…”

He broke off, realizing who he was talking to and suddenly did a double take. 

“Wait a second, who the heck are you?!?”

“Pacifica Northwest. We met during the crazy apocalyptic campout at the Mystery Shack.”

Jeff seemed to finally recognize her and his hostility lessened a little. 

Not a lot, but a little. 

“I didn’t recognize you without the… err…”

Pacifica grinned down at him. 

“The potato sack and llama?”

Jeff grinned back. 

“Something like that. What are you doing working around here?”

“Trying to be a better person. And it’s wrecking my feet - I need to get better shoes.”

“I feel you, sister. These shoes are doing most of the work on my height, but they make me twelve inches, so I can’t complain.”

Pacifica glanced at her phone and groaned. 

“Look, I’ve gotta go. But I guess if you’re in the area, say hi?”

Jeff gave her a salute and a grin, and then scampered off into the bushes, the baking pan held in one hand, 

Pacifica hadn’t thought much of it, but Jeff had taken her at her word. Whenever he stopped by to raid the place - and he was indeed going to the trash cans instead of the cooling food now - he left Pacifica some kind of indicator - a note, a cool rock, occasionally a bird feather, always on the same windowsill. She saw him every once in a while, and a few days later the baking pan was returned to the windowsill, too. Eventually “crossing paths” became “sit and chat”, which then resulted in them discovering a mutual enjoyment - or need - for relaxation and pampering. 

Which brought them to the present, where Jeff was still staring her down with a grin in his eye. 

“What are you looking at, Jeff?”

“You’ve got it bad for the Pine Tree boy!” Jeff crowed - for all his age and seeming practicality, he had both a romantic streak and a taste for drama, usually other people’s. This time Pacifica wished she hadn’t said anything, because this threatened to be an uncomfortable conversation, especially considering she had just reminded him that he couldn’t possibly marry Mabel. But it seemed Jeff had forgotten this in his excitement for hot gossip. She gave a reluctant grin herself. 

“We’re also still fourteen, so I’m not pushing anything. And if you say anything to anyone about this, I will take your face cream and dump it in the lake.”

Jeff held up his hands in surrender, but a look in his eyes told Pacifica this wasn’t over. 

“Fine, fine. Keep your little dirty secrets. See what I care. But know that I’ve got eyes everywhere…”

“Did I mention the beard conditioner also will end up in the lake?”

“Too far, Paz. Too far. Same time next week?”

Pacifica nodded and smiled as Jeff scrambled out the window, then watched out the window as her friend raced into the forest. 

[gothghostiie]

König NSFW Alphabet

no one asked for this, enjoy

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

-  super super cuddly, will snuggle up to you no matter what

- makes sure you’re okay, asking if you need anything (especially if he was dominant) 

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

-  for himself it’s his hands and thighs. He knows both is incredibly strong and he takes a lot of pride in that

- about their partner: literally everything. He admires his partner all over, no matter what they look like, he literally worships the ground they walk on

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

- definitely likes cumming inside you

- he is happy with anything tho, but if not inside he likes to cum on your stomach

- over your hands if you’re topping

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- he likes being bitten hard; hard as in he’s bleeding hard 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

- doesn’t seem super experienced but absolutely knows what he’s doing, will adapt to what you enjoy too, he’s a quick learner

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

- When he’s topping, missionary

- when you’re topping cowgirl

- in general 69 with you on top, he loves the feeling of you collapsing onto him

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

-  a good mix of both

- smiling a lot, especially when you’re topping

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- a little bit of hair, well trimmed and clean tho

- carpet is a bit lighter. I just know it

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

- lots of pet names

- gentle touches

- hand holding while pinning you down >>>

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

- does it only when he’s really needy 

- OR together with you/in front of you

- moans his partners name while masturbating

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

- getting edged is HUGE 

- loves begging, no matter who tops

- again, cumming inside and staying inside after he came

- overstimulating his partner gets him WILD

- soft bondage makes his heart flutter too

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

- definitely the bed

- or tied to a chair

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

- his partner cumming makes him incredibly horny

- praise, my man has a praise kink you can’t tell me otherwise

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- tbh he would do almost anything for his partner, as long as it doesn’t make him feel uneasy, insists on talking it through very detailed tho

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- a literal god at giving head

- eating you out, blowjobs, anything you can name; he’s great

- prefers giving over receiving but absolutely doesn’t mind receiving

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

- fully depends on his mood tbh, sometimes he just wants to fuck his brain out, sometimes its just about being close to his partner

-always a little sloppy when he’s close

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- prefers to have more time with his partner 

- doesn’t mind a good quickie sometimes tho

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

- absolutely ready to try stuff, even if he’s unsure he’ll enjoy it

- might get flustered when you guys talk about trying something new

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

- very high stamina when topping, can easily go for a second and maybe even third round

- could give head for hours

- when being topped he cums rather fast, and gets all flustered and embarrassed about it

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

- has toys but hides them

- enjoys using them on his partner and will shamelessly do it (toys are teammates, not enemies)

- also enjoys them being used on him but is too shy to bring it up mostly

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

- unknowingly teases by giving you looks, the way he touches you etc

- does it on purpose sometimes tho

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- loud af

- whines so much it’s insane

- will whisper a lot, no matter if it’s begging or complimenting you

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

- likes to act tough and dominant but is definitely more of a sub

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

- black boxers. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

- not that high, pretty average

- can be easily made horny tho 

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

- depends on how exhausted he is

- will definitely fall asleep while cuddling

[burningthetree]

my darling jules!! 💖

knowing your url has its origins in the hobbit, I must know if you were in middle earth what people would you be apart of!!

also if you have any favorite characters or character you feel you’re most like I’d love to know those as well!!

all the love ✨💫

Hi Evie!! This response literally took me so long to write because I kept overthinking it lol but I LOVE it

As for the race:

I think I’d be a hobbit honestly. I like their vibe, I also would love to live in a hole in the ground, I like their amity and friendliness and that they’re prone to helping each other out when in need. I don’t really vibe with their whole idea of ‘hobbits stick to the place they live in and don’t go venturing into the unknown’ because that’s too traditional and not enough open-minded for my taste but you know, can’t have everything. A close second would maybe be Elves? Because they value music and art and they’re all very ‘proper’ in the sense of manners which very much ties into how I was raised. I’m nowhere near as graceful or tall or athletic to resemble them though so I’m going with the hobbits. Also hobbits are really cool

My favourite characters!!

I love the hobbits. I genuinely adore Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin with all my heart. They all hold such a special place in my heart, both as individuals and a group of friends. Though I’d be a liar if I said that Sam wasn’t my favourite of them all because he’s amazing and deserves the whole world. I don’t think I have many individual favourites apart from Sam because most of them I like in combination with someone else, like Aragon+Legolas+Gimli as well as Gandalf+Bilbo. I will give a special shout-out to Legolas because he only ever states the obvious and doesn’t overtly contribute as much as other characters which makes him very funny in my eyes, also due to his consistent banter at the start with Gimli (which is more prevalent in the books than the movies managed to cover, but I digress).

A character I’m most like:

I think this is pretty hard honestly but considering how my life is a joke and I’m the punchline I’d go with Pippin. You know, dedicated to the cause, kind of witty but also has his dumb moments. Loves mushrooms. Would go to the end of the world for his friends even if he doesn’t really know what’s exactly going on. Has impulsive thoughts and gives in to them sometimes. Rambles without thinking. Loyal to the core. Hums while he walks. Makes jokes even at the most inappropriate moments. Clumsy. Adorable, lovable. People who know me irl feel free to disagree with my psychoanalysis of mysel

Evie!! If you want to share your answers to these questions please do!! I’d love to hear them❤️

[staarshiine]

🌟Hello!! I’m Cal, I go by they/them pronouns! My main is @llumimoon

💫I tend to talk a lot about Lego Monkie Kid but I do rb things from other cartoons, see the full list here!

☀️You can find my art under the tag ‘cal doodles’, my general thoughts and ideas under ‘cal rambles’ and my writing under ‘cal writes’

⭐️I talk about episodes as soon as I see them. For the first week I tag everything from the episode with ‘[show acronym] spoilers’ and I don’t add a ‘[show]’ tag to those posts until three days after the episode has come out, to avoid accidentally spoiling someone in the main tags. [ex: ‘toh spoilers’, ‘the owl house’; ‘lmk spoilers’, ‘monkie kid’; etc.]

🌙If you need me to tag anything, just ask! I’ll do my best to remember, and it doesn’t matter what it is.

✨Feel free to send in an ask at anytime! I love to talk! :D✨

100 Follower Event [closed]

[astaroth1357]

Cuddle Time w/ the OM Cast

Baby Simeon woke me up from my slumber. That card is fucking adorable, I want it.

Lucifer 

The fact Lucifer doesn't immediately throw them off whenever they try to snuggle should be proof enough of his love.

Cuddling is mostly done in the privacy of his bedroom. Occasionally he'll allow it in his office, but only if he's not busy.

He prefers to do it on one of the many chairs or cushions he has by the fire. Between the warmth of their body and the heat of the fireplace, he'll relax into it in seconds…

His favorite position is face-to-face with them on his lap - it's a way for him to "hand over" control while still feeling perfectly in charge. Sure, they can trace his jaw or fluff his hair as much as they like, but it's his arms holding them in place.

Gets beyond grouchy if they get interrupted... First, it's embarrassing, but second, who even has the right? If he gets pulled away for anything less than a house fire, someone (usually Mammon) is getting tied up to the chandelier...

Mammon 

Jumps at cuddle time, but always tries to play it off afterwards like an indecisive puppy.

Like Lucifer, he prefers his bedroom or theirs, but he'll do it in the Common Room too if he really needs a "pick-me-up." It's just that they usually get interrupted in there, so…

Likes to cuddle in bed or on couches, any place that's long enough to let him stretch out a bit. He wants to monopolize as much MC as he can.

Favorite position is laying on them so that his head is on their stomach or chest, kind of like a blanket. Like I said, the MC Surface Area to Mammon ratio is very important to him. More than half of MC must be cuddled for supreme satisfaction.

Whines like crazy if they get interrupted (and they usually do). Nearly every brother has an automatic gut reaction to toss him across the room if they see it happening, but that never stops him trying.

Leviathan 

Levi had to warm to cuddling but after that he was all-in for life.

Really only does it in his room (duh). He gets so nervous about trying it anywhere else that you'd think it was scandalous or something...

Actually prefers to cuddle on the floor - on beanbags or pillows of course. It's not terribly comfortable to cuddle and play games together in his bedtub and he needs the multitasking.

Favorite position (scratch that, the only position) is with their back to him and his arms around them in some way, probably also gripping a controller (or vice versa). They can do it laying down or sitting up, but that's what he can muster. His brain stops functioning if they ever try to face each other...

Not above vague thoughts of homicide if they get interrupted. He already doesn't like letting go, so add on the depletion of his all important "MC Meter" and he's going to be very grumpy indeed…

Satan 

Cuddles a bit like a semi-social cat. Less big on full-on snuggling, but he still requires physical contact.

Much more relaxed about the PDA than the others, but his affection style is more casual looking as well. He'll cuddle right about anywhere, but mostly whenever he's reading.

Couches or loveseats are easiest. Chairs are less so, but manageable as long as they can sit close to each other. 

Favorite position is to have them sit next to him with their legs over his lap. He only needs one hand to read so the other usually roams around mindlessly while he's engrossed in a book. He may rub their thighs, hold their hand, or play with their hair.

Hates being interrupted with a burning passion. The death glare he'll send to anyone stupid enough to try could curdle milk… Give Satan his MC time if you know what's good for you.

Asmodeus

Needs cuddle time like he needs air, but would you expect any less from the embodiment of Lust?

Down to cuddle anytime, anywhere - zero shame and no hint of hesitation. Sometimes he'll come over and latch into them in the middle of someone else's conversation...

Fond of using beds but he's also mastered cuddling in the tub, his bathroom is certainly built for it. Nothing beats a nice hot bath with his nice warm MC! 😘

Favorite position is really any of them. He's hardly going to be picky - though if given the choice, he'll pull them to the nearest bed and wrap himself around them so tight that they may get stuck together.

Whines louder than Mammon if they ever get interrupted and pelt the intruder with pillows or shoes to make them go away (it rarely works though…). 

Beelzebub 

Always happy to cuddle with MC!... as long as they don't mind his stomach growling from time to time.

Prefers to cuddle after he's downed some big feast. When the food coma is setting in, it's really nice to hold MC for a while… They make him feel full for at least five extra minutes!

He tries to incorporate MC into his training sometimes so his favorite position is to have them latched onto him like a kola while he goes about the House. If their arms or legs get tired, he'll carry them over to a couch and just continue from there.

If he's got to be still, then he prefers to cuddle in a bed, ideally one where Belphie is. Nothing warms his heart more than having the both of them clung into him in some way, it's very therapeutic. 😊

Not AS bothered when they get interrupted… If anything he's just disappointed. He was probably having fun, but they'll come back, right...?

Belphegor 

Look, all time is "Cuddle Time" and any other activity is just a distraction. If Belphie could hot glue the MC to his body, he would. 

Being cuddled to sleep is a MUST. He thrives on their proximity and the sound of their heartbeat is the world's best lullaby.

Unfortunately, he doesn't even need to be particularly comfortable to get cuddling in… He has been known to just collapse onto their lap if he's tired enough, all else be damned.

His favorite position is any way that lets them be his pillow. Any particular soft parts of the body like the stomach are fair game. He'll use their thighs like a neck pillow if he wants to (and hope that they don't try choking him out of revenge...).

There's really no interrupting Belphie. If someone needs MC, he'll latch onto their legs so they either stay put or bring him too. The others have to use magic or spatulas just to pry him off...

Diavolo

Big on cuddle time. HUGE on cuddle time! This man has hardly ever been touched, so this is a dream come true!!

Look, he's the king so he'll cuddle them wherever he damn well pleases! (That's a lie, Barbatos won't let him do it during work hours… Otherwise it's fine.)

He's very enthusiastic but uh… kind of inexperienced so a lot of things (like convenient location) don't occur to him right away. Like sure, they could go cuddle in a big ass bed, but he really wants to hold them RIGHT NOW so they're just going to have to do this in an empty ballroom somehow...

His favorite position is probably best described as the "Teddy Bear," where they just sit on his lap and he hugs them from behind. He'll even rest his chin on their head if he can. It looks vaguely like he's holding them hostage but they actually seem happy about it.

Unless your name is Barbatos or Lucifer, you do not interrupt them. As far as he knows, there's still a snake in the dungeons and you don't want to be the person he sends to check…

Barbatos

A spot of quiet intimacy is quite rare for him… but never unwelcome.

Assuming Barbs even finds the time in his schedule to sit still for a while, he will almost always opt to do so when utterly alone (sometimes even in deserted timelines). It's very embarrassing to be caught procrastinating at work...

Ever the pleaser, he'll claim that he has no real preferences but if he were being honest it's when they're curling up together on a cushion or loveseat. It's comfortable, but still allows for some proper conversion.

Unlike others, no matter what position they take he'll always want to be face-to-face. When he gets to be with them so rarely, why would he ever want to see their back turned…?

NO ONE interrupts them. No one. Short of Diavolo needing him desperately, if someone sees the two of them together they will turn around. Even an irritated Barbatos is scary, an angry one is terrifying…

Simeon

Oh man… This is the height of intimacy for an angel. Cuddling with Simeon is just as sweet and relaxing as it sounds - it's an almost photogenic level of serenity, fit for the brushes of Renaissance painters trying to define what divine love is...

Naturally, because it's such an intimate act Simeon will only do so in absolute privacy. He doesn't even want Luke to see, it's just that personal...

Part of why he's so guarded is because it's one of the rare times he'll let his wings be free. They're very delicate, so he has to sit on stools, logs, or other backless seats to even let them out but it's worth it.

His favorite position is to have the MC sit across his lap while he holds them as close as possible. He'll beat his wings for a nice breeze on hot days or fold them in to shelter the MC from cold ones. No matter what, their movement is so glimmering and graceful that they're practically mesmerizing…

To him getting interrupted is legitimately so mortifying you'd think he got caught streaking. Even the brothers - sans Satan - will avert their eyes if they find them like that… while still telling him to back off but at least they're considerate about it.

Solomon

Solomon's softest moments come when he's cuddling MC… but he's still a little mischievous no matter what.

They pretty much have to do it in secret because if any of the brothers see them, they'll throw a fit… So snuggling in cramped storage closets or "so-high-up-in-the-air-no-one-can-stop-us" it is!

But when he wants to poke buttons, Solomon will magic them onto his lap dead-ass in the middle of RAD, like, two minutes before a class starts just to watch the world burn…

If he had a favorite position, it's sitting wrapped up together in his cape. It feels intimate, warm, and the starry-sky pattern makes him feel like there's nothing in the universe but them…

Interruptions are frequent - thank the PDA police - but only in the Devildom. In the human world, though? They're all his and he soaks up every minute of it... Sorry fellas. 😏

[dreamerstreamer]

Human GPS

Pairing: c!Technoblade x f!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Technoblade really needs some books of mending, and you just happen to be the daughter of the village cleric.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: this a repost of the first ever story i posted when i first made my blog. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you like it as much as i did! <3

Technoblade blinked, his eyes squinting up at the clear, cerulean sky. It was about midday now, and the beating sun sat in the center of the sky, almost taunting him from where it hung.

If the sun is directly above me, he thought, then west must be… He frowned. Somewhere. Maybe.

He groaned and swung his legs off of Carl, the horse letting out a soft whinny as he hopped onto the ground. He had been travelling for what must have been close to an hour now, and he still hadn’t found a village. It was almost like the universe was trying to waste his time. All he wanted was to get his hands on some books of mending so he didn’t have to worry about any of his armour breaking, yet the world was sending him on a wild goose chase, anyways.

“Seriously,” he muttered, irritation gnawing away at his already dwindling patience, “how hard can it be to find just one cleric? It’s not like I’m asking to find a woodland mansion, or something.”

Letting out yet another long groan, Technoblade flipped open the pack he attached to Carl’s saddle. He pulled out a baked potato and bit in, allowing himself a few seconds of relief as he ate.

For a brief moment, he considered digging through his bag to look for a compass or—better yet—a map. But then he remembered that just prior to leaving, he had reminded himself that he was a human GPS and that “Technoblade never fails.”

He sighed. No compass, it is.

He took another bite of the potato in his hands, looking around at the terrain around him. There was a lush birch forest to his left and a barren desert on the opposite side. Just a little to his right was a river and—

Wait a second.

Technoblade froze, his jaw freezing halfway through chewing another bite of potato.

He recognized that river.

A wide grin split across his lips.

He totally knew where to find a village.

Doing his best not to choke, Technoblade stuffed the rest of the baked potato in his mouth and buckled his pack shut. With a grunt, he pulled himself back onto Carl, picking up the reins. “Like I said, Carl, who even needs a compass? I’ve got the map memorized, and my inner compass is perfectly calibrated.”

Carl looked back at him and let out an almost sarcastic sounding neigh that seemed to say, “Sure.”

Technoblade’s face rolled his eyes. He snapped the reins once, and Carl charged forward.

The human GPS never failed.

You let out an ecstatic cry as you pushed the last book in your hands onto the creaky bookshelf, stepping back to look at your work in pride. You’d been organizing the library for a little over half the day now, and you were almost finished. Each shelf was now in alphabetical order.

Dusting off your skirt, you took one last glance at the shelves before settling down at the table in the corner of the room, looking over the to-do list you had set out for yourself the night before. “Let’s see,” you hummed to yourself, “I already dusted all the tabletops, mopped the floor, and delivered that order to Mr. Hart. Now I can check ‘organize bookshelves’ off the list, too.”

You set the quill down on the table. “Meanwhile, dad’s out trading with Mrs. Lee and said he would be back soon.” You stared down at the page for a moment longer before sighing. A frown etched itself onto your features. You leaned your elbows on the oak tabletop as your gaze trailed out the church window and up at the cloudless sky.

You had lived in the village your whole life with your father, the village cleric. Everything was peaceful and you loved the familiar environment you resided in, but things had also become so… boring in the village. So bland, so dull. You can’t even remember the last time you did something fun. Sure, you were productive and made sure to help your father around his workspace the best you could, but you wanted more than this.

Please, you thought to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in a silent prayer. Please, please, please let something new and exciting happen. At least just once in my life.

All of a sudden, you heard a distant rumbling.

You sat up straight, blinking awake from your reverie. What’s that sound?

The rumbling grew louder, and you could now recognize it as the galloping of a horse. Your thoughts were only confirmed by the loud whinny you heard right after the rumbles stopped.

You pushed your chair back, standing up from the table and walking over to the front window, crouching down to peek outside. You squinted, your eyes scanning around outside before they landed on an unfamiliar shape.

Your heart suddenly barrelled over in your chest.

Sitting atop a horse wearing diamond armour in the center of the village square was a stranger.

His back was facing you, but from what you could see of him, the first thing you noticed was the crimson robe hanging off his shoulders, cascading down his back like a scarlet waterfall. An axe was strapped to his back, tinted with a murky, violet hue. His hair was a vibrant shade of cherry blossom pink like nothing you had ever laid eyes on before, and on his head sat a golden crown encrusted with glittering gems. You wondered what his face looked like, curiosity bubbling in your chest.

Just then, he slid off his horse, landing on the ground with a small thump. He stood tall and proud, turning his head this way and that as he looked around at the houses around him, an air of regality surrounding him.

Then, he turned.

Your eyes only met for a fraction of a second before you immediately ducked down, hiding your figure from view in the window. The moment you were out of sight, you stilled, doing your best not to give yourself away.

He was handsome.

His face was calm and demure, reflecting his royal air almost perfectly, and his eyes, like his robe, were a piercing crimson red. They almost seemed to stare into your soul, laying every part of yourself bare for him to see.

He looked like a king in every sense of the word, and you just had to meet him.

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you struggled to regain your breath. You peeked over the windowsill carefully, glancing past the glass outside once more. The stranger had tied his horse to a post in the square and was walking around, glancing at the villagers here and there. Most of them seemed to be slightly wary of him—after all, it wasn’t everyday a king showed up at your doorstep. He seemed to be looking for something with the way he kept looking around him, his eyes sweeping over every inch of the village. Perhaps you could help him.

Slowly, you slid away from the windowsill and carefully clicked open the front door, stepping outside. The sun shone brilliantly on your face as you made your way toward the stranger. Once again, his back was turned to you, and you stopped a few feet behind him. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up what courage you had before speaking.

“Hello.”

The man turned at the sudden sound of your voice, his scarlet eyes piercing into yours. “Oh, hello.” His voice was deep, laced with a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your offered him a warm smile. “Welcome to our humble village. I’m [Y/N].” You extended your hand, and he took it in a friendly handshake, smiling back.

“The name’s Technoblade.”

Your eyebrows quirked. “Technoblade,” you repeated. “That’s a unique name.”

“Thanks,” he said, jokingly adding, “I got it for my birthday.”

You giggled at that. He may look regal and intimidating, but right off the bat, it seemed that his personality was far from it. “You know what they say, a bad joke is always the best way to leave a good first impression.”

He frowned, feigning sadness. “Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

Your lips twitched. “Well, I laughed at it, so I’ll give you that.” His face lit up once more, and you felt your stomach churn with warmth. “Well, what brings you here?”

He gestured to the pack he had clipped to his belt. “Just looking to do a few trades, really.”

You looked at him in confusion. “A king? Trading with commoners like us?”

He blinked for a moment. “Ah, about that, I’m not really a king, per se.” He plucked his crown from off his head, tossing it casually in his hands. “The crown and robes are more for… aesthetic purposes, to say the least. I don’t really rule over my own country or anything.

Your tilted your head at him. “Where do you come from, then? I can only imagine you travelled for a while to get here.”

He shrugged. “It was kind of far, but it wasn’t a big deal, really. I never got lost.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Never?” you said.

“Never,” he confirmed. His grinned smugly, your heart reeling at the sight. “I’m a human GPS, if you will.”

You stifled a laugh but couldn’t hide your smile. What a dork. “Totally.”

His grin only widened. “Anyways, I’m from this place called Pogtopia.” You must have made a face at his words, because he laughed at you and god, even his laugh was pretty. “Yeah, it’s kind of a funny name, isn’t it? Well, I didn’t come up with it. My friends Tommy and Wilbur did.”

“They must be…” You looked for a good word. “…interesting people.”

He laughed. “It’s okay—you’re allowed to say they have bad taste in names.”

You giggled, your cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. “Okay, yeah, their taste is pretty poor.” You glanced at him. “Are they the kings of your country then, since they named it?”

“Kind of. I guess you could call them kings, but they’re more like self-instated presidents, even though that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a president.” You nodded, following along in agreement. “They’re trying to win back some land they were exiled from a while back called L’Manberg, although it was recently renamed Manberg, but there’s also Dream and his SMP, and—” He sighed, running a hand through his rosy locks. “It’s complicated. Basically, we’re sort of in the middle of this war, and I just kind of got roped into it.”

Your eyes widened in alarm. “A war?! Surely we wouldn’t get involved, right?” Your village, like many others, was a pacifist group of people, having no source of defense or battle skills to protect yourselves with. If this supposed war came all the way to your little village, all of you would surely perish.

Technoblade raised his arms in front of him, quickly shaking his head. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

You pressed a hand to your chest as you let out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” Technoblade smiled at you from the corner of your eye, amusement lacing his lips. You suddenly straightened, another thought popping into your head. “What about you, then? Aren’t you worried?”

He laughed again, though it sounded more like a cackle. “Me? Worried? Nahhh.” He swung his axe off his back, being careful to point it away from you. “I may not look like it, but I’m actually one of the most feared warriors in the land. Tommy and Wilbur basically begged me to join their side so I can help them win.” He gestured to himself. “You don’t have to believe me, but I think it’s pretty clear to see I’m pretty much a god at PVP.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, I believe you. You do look like you could seriously teach someone a thing or two with that axe, but I really don’t think I need to feed your ego anymore.” You smiled bemusedly. “It already seems to be quite large on its own.”

His grin dropped. “Wait, please, feed my ego, I thrive off complime—”

A giggle escaped your mouth as you waved your hand at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Your expression grew a bit more serious. “But honestly, you’re not scared? Even a little?”

Technoblade shook his head. “Nope. A war is just a lot of fights lined up one after the other, and I’m great at winning fights. Heck, I could probably wipe out the other side in a heartbeat with what I’ve got in my arsenal. Tommy and Wilbur might just send me out by myself to do just that.”

“They would?” you said in disbelief. “Aren’t they worried for you, either?”

He snorted. “They were the ones who wanted me here to help them win, so they definitely aren’t worried.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Well, that was no good—no good at all. Wasn’t a single person concerned for this man’s safety, not even just one? No matter how powerful he may be, this was a war you two were talking about, and wars don’t always go according to plan.

Suddenly, it hit you.

“I see,” you murmured. You raised your chin, resolve filling your veins. “Then I’ll worry for you.”

Technoblade stared at you for a long moment, stunned into silence. Panicking, you began to ramble. “You and your friends may have overwhelming confidence in you and your abilities,” you said, “but it’s still important that you recognize that sometimes things don’t go according to plan. That’s why you should worry, and if you won’t, then I’ll do it in your stead.”

When he still didn’t say anything after yet another moment, you felt embarrassment rise up in you. “I’m sorry, we just met and that was totally uncalled for of m—”

“No, no, really,” he abruptly said, shaking his head. “It’s all good. Seriously.” There was a slight pause. Then, he softly added, “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

His lips curled to form a smile, but this one was different from the ones he gave you before. Those ones were proud and teasing, full of mirth and some level of arrogance. But this one was softer, kinder. More genuine and real.

You liked this one more.

Still feeling slightly embarrassed from having just rambled about caring about a near stranger to his face, you quickly shifted gears. “W-Well, I should probably ask what exactly you wanted to trade for,” you said as your cheeks flushed pink. You lowered your gaze to the ground, trying to avert your eyes from his. “I can probably help you find whatever it is you need.”

Technoblade hummed. “I have a bunch of stuff with me that I can use to trade, but I’m looking for a cleric to get some mending books from.”

Your head shot up in recognition. “A cleric, you say?” Your lips curled into a small grin when he nodded. “I know just where to find him. Wait here for a minute, okay?”

As soon as he nodded his head once more, you had already taken off, bounding down the grassy path with your skirt trailing behind you. Technoblade’s gaze followed you as you rushed down the path, a pleasant warmth bubbling in the pit of stomach and he watched you run off.

Usually whenever he came to a village, the people he met were wary of him and hardly ever spoke more than the bare minimum to him. Most of them were intimidated by his appearance, others thrown off by his cockiness. And yet here you were, treating him like a friend when so many before you had done the exact opposite. You were kind, compassionate, and you saw more than just his arrogant exterior. You genuinely cared for the person he was underneath the crown and the robes. Not to mention, you were quite the sight for sore eyes.

Warmth blossomed in his chest and something fluttered in his stomach.

He was glad he came to this village.

To say your father was more than pleased to trade some books of mending for the stacks upon stacks of emeralds Technoblade had was an understatement.

“I thought you said you weren’t a king,” you said to him, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head when you saw him open his pack.

“I’m not,” Technoblade said, twirling an emerald between his fingers. “I just happen to be very wealthy.”

You shook your head at him, a smile gracing your lips. “You’re a maniac.”

He shot you a smug look. “Oh, don’t I know it.”

After he had traded for some mending books with your father, he had asked you if your village had a fletcher.

“Oh, I made a delivery to Mr. Hart earlier today,” you said. “Here, follow me.”

The trek to the other side of the village was short enough, and you were content to wait on the sides while Technoblade made some negotiations. Just then, Mrs. Lee spotted you and strode up to you.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N],” she greeted, her lips tilting into a familiar gentle smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee!” you chirped happily, turning to face her. “Thank you for the pumpkins, earlier today! I’ll be sure to give you some of the pumpkin pie I bake tomorrow.”

“Why, there’s no need for you to do that, dear.” She leaned close to your ear to whisper, “You know you’re my favourite of the youngins here.”

You blushed. “You know that’s not true.”

She held a finger to her lips. “It’s our little secret, alright?” She looked over your shoulder at Technoblade, who was still debating with Mr. Hart. “Looks like you’ve become acquainted with our visitor, haven’t you, dear?”

Your blush deepened. “Y-Yes! I have. His name is Technoblade and he comes from a country called Pogtopia. He traded for some books with my father just now.”

Mrs. Lee wrinkled her nose. “Weird name, the both of them, but never mind that.” She smirked at you, glancing just behind you. “He’s quite the looker, isn’t he?”

Your face exploded like a bright red tomato. “I-I, um, he’s. Um.” You took a deep breath and fanned your face, lowering your voice. “He’s handsome.”

Her smirk only grew larger. “I hope the two of you become even more acquainted then,” she said cryptically, patting your shoulder. “I’ll be on my way now, but do let me know how it goes, okay?”

You nodded dutifully, too embarrassed to say anything else. Mrs. Lee turned away and continued her way down the grassy path, smiling to herself.

If only you had seen the way he had looked at you.

Hours had passed since Technoblade had first arrived in the village, and the sun was just beginning to set. The two of you had visited just about every working person in the village, chatting away as Technoblade traded for whatever he needed from each person you two saw.

The two of you learned a lot about each other in the time you spent together. You learned that Technoblade wasn’t a huge fan of government and much preferred anarchy. He learned that you longed for something much more than your normal life in the village, but you had yet to discover what it was you wanted to do. You learned that he owned a dog named Floof. He learned the location of your favourite spot in the village. By the end of the day, it felt like you two had known each other for ages.

You secretly hoped that he would stay, but you knew that he couldn’t. The village wasn’t his home, after all.

You stood nearby as Technoblade strapped his pack back onto Carl’s saddle, chewing the inside of your lip. He climbed onto Carl, securing his axe on his back and picking up the reins in his hands. “Well, [Y/N],” he said, a hint of disappointment tinging his voice, “it looks like this is goodbye.”

“I guess so,” you murmured sadly, casting your gaze down at your feet. You had only known him for so long, but an overwhelming sense of loss filled you knowing that Technoblade was leaving and may very well never return. He was funny with his dry, dorky sense of humour and charming with his sharp grins and deep voice.

You weren’t sure you were quite ready to let go just yet.

“Um,” you spoke up, your voice cracking a little, “will you…” You peeked up at him, nervously biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your fingers. “Will you ever come back?”

Something in Technoblade’s chest seized at the shy look on your face, your cheeks rosy and your gaze darting back and forth between his eyes and the ground. While he had originally only come in search of this village to trade with a cleric, he supposed he might always need more mending books in the future. Not to mention, he would also get to see you.

He smiled, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be back, so wait up for me, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up and an elated grin spread across your face. “I-I will!”

He chuckled at your giddiness, his own heart beating wildly against his rib cage. “Good.”

Sharing one last look with you, he snapped his reins and held on tight as Carl dashed forward, his gaze trailing behind him as he watched you wave your arms frantically at him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your enthusiasm, raising his arm to wave back at you himself. He kept waving until he could no longer see you, and only then did he face forward to find his way home.

The journey back was significantly shorter than the trip to the village, and before he knew it, he was tying Carl to his usual fence post. He was a human GPS, after all. How else would he have found the village—and you—with so much ease?

He tilted his head up, looking up at the rising moon in the east. Now he knew that the village (and you, his heart helpfully supplied once more) lay to the west, just beyond the birch forest, desert, and river. Above him, he could make out the shapes of a handful of constellations, the stars twinkling and winking down at him from space. He wondered if you were looking up at the same starry sky as him. He wondered if your stomach was full of butterflies, too.

“So,” he mused to himself aloud, his heart thump-thump-thumping in his chest, “[Y/N], huh?”

He was definitely going back.

[omgreally]

I’ve been reading mandos intergalactic taxi service and UGH✨💕 the pining and fluff with the intimacy smut is just chefs kiss your writing style is amazing🤌🏽✨ I’ve been in such a Din mood lately, could your write like a confession drabble where the reader and din are pining for each other and din is dropping hints but the reader is like really not a hint taker lol pretty please with a cherry on top 😭💕 smut or fluff your choice I know you’d write it so well!!

BLESS YOUR HEART @liltangerineart and thank you! Next chapter of Taxi Service should be up tomorrow I hope!

In the meantime I hope you like this? Not a confession as such and more, uh, top!Mando than I intended, but he is bad at dropping hints. I like to think he would be very...straightforward 😎

Din Djarin/F!Reader - E - 1624 words - Oblivious!Reader, Infatuated!Din, frustrated yearning, angst and, of course, smut.

It's getting ridiculous.

He is a Mandalorian, one of the most fabled, the most feared warriors in the galaxy. Rumour and danger follow him as he charts a path through the galaxy that blazes bright, leaving behind myth and legend - people whispering things like 'I heard he killed a whole troop with his hands tied' and 'I heard he was eight feet tall, made of steel'.

He is a Mandalorian, who has never had to rely on anybody but himself - and yet here he is, sweating beneath his cowl whenever you brush too close, trying too hard to inhale the scent of you through his helmet's filters, memorizing the sound of your laugh.

It's like he's a foundling again - uncertain, insecure, nervous. And they’re not butterflies in the pit of his stomach - they’re bullets from an ancient slugthrower weapon, and he can taste metal at the back of his tongue whenever he tries to talk to you.

“Do you have someone, back home?” A clumsy overture, as obvious as it is stupid; Din winces beneath the helm but you don’t seem to notice - you just shake your head and shrug.

“No. Just me. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.” Loyal, he thinks, and the bullets in his stomach sting just that little bit harder.

He tries asking you more about yourself. How you became a bounty hunter. How many weapons you’ve handled. The different kinds of ships you’ve flown. Places you’ve been. But you never give up anything truly personal about yourself - you’re a cypher.

Maybe that’s why the Mandalorian finds himself strangely drawn to you.

He doesn’t know how to navigate this - not really. He has no experience with this kind of thing. It’s always been about the next quarry, the next job, and then it was about the kid, and now…

And now he’s stuck.

He wants to hit something, break something, feel the impact of his fists against flesh and bone. He settles for balling them up whenever you’re around, biting his tongue, and waiting til later to jerk himself off in pathetic, clench-jawed silence in the refresher.

“You slept late,” you point out the next morning as he emerges, stiff in more than one way, from his bunk.

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” he says, and he’s so tired, so frustrated that he adds, gruffly: “Bed was too empty.”

“Probably need more pillows,” you muse as you wander off to the kitchenette. “Cup of caf?”

“Extra strong,” he grunts as he leans a shoulder to the wall, and you’re oblivious to his glower.

“Coming right up.” A minute later, you press a mug into his hand. “I’ll leave you to it. No need to go hide, I’ll go find a bulkhead to look at while you take your helmet off.”

You grin at him, and he stares at you. You’re just about to turn away when he reaches up, and you go still, your smile slackening in shock as he thumbs the release latch under his chin.

The helm’s pneumatic seal hisses as it lifts, just enough so he can get the rim of his mug up and to his lips. He takes a long, slow pull, and while his vision is eclipsed by the rim of the helmet at the moment, he knows you haven’t left.

As he expects, you’re still there - staring at him as he lowers his helm back into place. Your mouth is even slightly open - lips parted - and he watches the dart of your tongue as you wet them before swallowing hard.

“I’m just...I’m just gonna,” you say, abortingly, and start to back away. You jump as your shoulder hits the hatchway. Din watches as you turn, hesitate, then hurry away, your shoulders squared defensively as if you can feel the force of his gaze on your back.

Alone, the taste of caf hot and bitter on his tongue, Din Djarin grins.

After that, he starts to notice. He starts to notice how tense you are when he’s close.

At first he’s not sure - but then, once, he deliberately brushes your waist as he moves past you in the cockpit to take the pilot’s seat, and you’re still standing there, frozen, when he glances back at you. You brush it off, but it happens again when you bump into him coming out of the fresher. When he reaches over your head in the kitchenette to fetch a ration bar from a compartment. When you lean over his shoulder to point out the coordinates to a refueling station. When he catches you yawning, falling asleep in the passenger’s seat.

“I’m going to hit my bunk,” you say, rising to your feet, your arms stretched above your head. Din turns slowly, and he catches the glimpse of a sliver of flesh as your shirt rides up. The words escape him before he’s even conscious of their existence.

“Want some company?”

Dank farrik, he’s been dropping hints and touches for ages - and he knows you’re affected by his presence, he’s sure of it now. They might be closer to butterflies for you, but his bullets are bouncing around in his gut right now.

“What?” you ask, half-laughing - as if it’s all some grand joke. “You gotta stop with the innuendo, Mando. I might get the wrong idea.”

“And if it’s not innuendo?” He’s flicked the ship to auto-pilot - on his feet - looming towards you. You’re caught in the hatchway, unable to step backwards to fall down the ladder, unwilling to turn your back. "If you've got the right idea?"

“What?” you repeat - licking your lips again. Your eyes are flicking back and forth from his visor to his hands. It’s almost like you're expecting a fight.

“I want to fuck you.”

The words are matter-of-fact but delivered in a low baritone, a gravelly rasp that lifts the hairs on the back of your neck. You stop breathing for a second - he can see it - and your leg twitches, just half a step backward - but then you swing it forward again, swaying towards him. Like he has you in his gravitational pull.

It’s all Din needs. He closes the distance between you, his gloved hands closing around your biceps, the leather worn and warm through your shirt.

He says your name, once, in a digital growl that curls your toes in your boots. And then it’s like an explosion - it all happens so quickly; there are hands and clothes everywhere and then on the deck, and in the aftermath you are in the Mandalorian’s arms, naked, your legs around his waist as he presses you up against the bulkhead.

His chestplate hits the deck - his flak jacket lifted above his head when you let him stop touching you long enough. You barely have time to appreciate the feel of his naked hands on your skin, cupping your breasts in his broad, smooth palms, thumbing your nipples all-too-briefly before he’s sliding down the zipper of his flight suit and baring a V of muscled flesh all the way to his groin.

“Mando,” you gasp as he frees his cock, as he maneuvers the throbbing, purpled head to drag through your slit. He finds you open and wet, lips parted for him, and he groans as he nudges against your fluttering hole. He doesn't hesitate.

He pushes in slow, for he’s a lot to take, thick and hard and the stretch is almost too much. You whine, your voice high and tight in your throat, and he soothes you with soft little noises and praise that makes you feel light-headed.

“Shhh, that’s it,” “You’re so fucking tight-” “Made to take my cock, mesh’la" and other words you don’t recognize. Eventually, he’s all the way inside you, his pelvis flush to yours, the scratch of hair at his pubic bone pressing into your mound.

You pant in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, a thin resin of sweat risen on your brow. “Move,” you order through clenched teeth, and finally you open your eyes to meet his visor and demand, “Fuck me, Mando.”

And he does - withdrawing his hips from the welcoming cradle of yours, his cock dragging back through you, and you can feel every ridge and vein before he’s spearing back in, jarring your back against the bulkhead. It’s a shock right through your system, and you can feel adrenaline flooding your veins, your blood pumping faster like you’re fighting for your life. You might as well be, for he does it again, and again, and soon he’s setting a punishing pace that hits against something soft and devastating deep inside you.

Your orgasm hits you like a blow you fail to dodge - winding you, knocking the air from your lungs - and for a moment all that matters is the blinding flash of pleasure through your nerves, the rolling wave that makes your cunt flutter in rippling spasms around the pulsing rod of his cock. He pins your hips with another vicious rut of his hips and then he’s coming, too, releasing into the impossible grip of your body, groaning with every spurt of spend he fills you with.

“Fuck,” Din summarizes, once you both can catch your breath - once your legs start to loosen, jelly-weak as he pulls out gently, lowering your feet back to the ground. He’s suddenly nervous - worried he’s fucked this up, done the wrong thing, lost patience and paid for it with your scorn.

But your smile is brilliant as you beam up at him - your face radiant - flushed and sweaty. You are beautiful.

“Next time, don't waste time dropping hints,” you tell him, and then you reassure him with a laugh, and the wonderful feeling of your arms around his neck.

For a while, he just holds you close. And for a while, the bullets in his stomach are gone.

[primofate]

Short Fic

Requested by: @sparklycupcake56 

Scenario: Playing knight and princess

Character: Kaeya x fem reader

Warning: Not proofread

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“Mister Kaeyaaaaa!” All around him the little girls of the town of Mondstadt looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, tugging on his shirt. He smiles down at them, a soft chuckle erupting from his chest. “Well hello there little ladies,” 

One of the little girls with jet black hair tied up in pigtails jumped up and down excitedly, “Mister Kaeya, you’re a knight right? Right?” Kaeya scoops that girl up into his arms and the little girl giggles while the ones gathering around him groan in protest. “Not fairrrr!” “Me too!!” 

“Now, now girls, let’s play nice,” He doesn’t even know how he ends up in this situation, but he responds to the girl propped up in his arms. “I am, very much a knight,” he says gallantly and the little girl’s eyes shine. “Guys, guys let’s have Mister Kaeya play the knight in our princess and knight story!” The other two girls around him clap and cheer, and one of them speaks up. “Oh, but, we need a princess too! Let’s go around town and look for a princess for Knight Kaeya!” 

The said girl grabs Kaeya’s hand and just as she was about to pull on him, you walk in on the scene, wondering what all the ruckus was about. The kids in Mondstadt did like playing with whoever was available. Your guess was that Kaeya just looked particularly free and the kids pounced on him. “Kaeya?” You softly call out to him as you walk over. 

All three little girls’ heads snap towards you and their eyes suddenly shine like a thousand diamonds. They gasp and point, “We found a princess!” “It’s a princess!” “Ohhh! Let’s take her!” You let out a small “Huh?!” when the two kids pull on your hand and place you in front of Kaeya, who was already liking the idea. “Prin...cess...?” You tilt your head, questioning gaze in your eyes.

Kaeya puts the girl in his arms down and all of a sudden takes your hand, bending on one knee, eyes locked on yours. Your face flush and you’re taken by surprise, “K-Kaeya? What?” He winks at you and plays along with the kids’ ideas. “Knight Kaeya kisses the Princess’ hand, he’s asking her to the ball!”

“My princess,” Kaeya starts, the people around the fountain were glancing at the two of you, wondering if he was actually proposing. “I’d be honoured to escort you to the ball tonight, if you would let me,” he kisses your hand, his lips lingering for a few seconds, eyes never leaving yours and it finally hits you what was happening. He was entertaining the kids, and you being you, you didn’t have the heart to say no to them either.

“Oh, well, um--” you stumble over your words “S-Sure...” The kids erupt in cheers and gather around you as Kaeya stands. “Big sister, big sister! You have to change into your princess dress! Hurry! Don’t let Knight Kaeya wait!” The lot of them start pushing you away from Kaeya who is extremely amused by the whole thing. 

Moments later you somehow end up in your house, looking for a proper “princess dress” to wear. You find a royal blue long sleeved dress, the middle part cinching your waist perfectly and the round neckline exposing your collarbones. You were beyond embarrassed. You didn’t even know why you agreed to it but you gathered your dress, lifted it up and started walking back to the town square. You got pleasant looks from the townspeople and that made you feel that maybe this wasn’t so stupid after all.

“Ohhhh! She’s here!” One of the little girls pointed at you. Kaeya’s back is turned away from you and you approach cautiously, unsure of what his reaction might be. When he turns around though, you catch the way his eyes widen a fraction, and in the next moment he was back to normal. He approaches you with a valiant smile, stunning and confident as he strides towards you. He stops a few steps away and bows perfectly, “Princess, you are...” he straightens up and offers his hand “possibly the most beautiful sight in the world,” 

Off to the side you could hear the kids whispering amongst each other “...What’s sight?” “I don’t know? Maybe a lady...?” You smile a little, whether or not you’re really playing along or actually enjoying this was already lost in your mind. You gingerly place your hand atop his and “Thank you, sir Kaeya,” you close your eyes briefly, “Should we be going?”

One of the kids whisper, her hand cupped around her mouth. “Mister Kaeyaaaa! You have to carry the princess or she’ll be tired!” Kaeya chuckles and in the next moment has hoisted you up in his arms rather easily, your arms automatically wrap around his neck, soft sound of surprise escaping your lips. One of his arms was under your back and the other cradling your legs. 

“Allow me, my princess, I will be your legs, up until we arrive at our destination,” The kids urge him to walk out to the gates of Mondstadt the two guards over there stared weirdly at the two of you as he passed by. “The knight puts the princess down, they’re nearly at the ball! But first... the knight kisses the princess right in the middle of the bridge and confesses his love!” Kaeya was impressed at the kids’ storytelling skills, he was starting to wonder what kinds of books the kids read.

He didn’t protest though and even happily put you down on your feet and in the next moment wraps an arm around your waist. Dear God his arms are so strong, you could feel his experience in battle rippling across his skin and you feel like you could melt in his hold. He pulls you closer, until his forehead is against yours and the two of you close your eyes, enjoying the peacefulness of it all. “Y/N...” He whispers, and for a moment you and him are not playing pretend, for a moment it was just the two of you in each other’s presence. “You are, without a doubt, the only princess I’ll want for the rest of my life,” Your eyes open slowly, cheeks flushing pink at your lover’s statement. 

“Kaeya...” your hands grip at his shirt, the fabric moving under your hold, your eyes holding so much desire for the man you loved, and his own mirroring it. “...Kiss me...?” You’re out of words to say, just wanting to feel his lips on yours. It was the only thing missing. He complies rather easily and turns his head slightly sideways to capture your lips in a gentle and chaste kiss, the way a knight would gently kiss his fragile princess. Protected and looked after. 

The claps and cheers of the kids take you back to reality. Ah. That’s right, still playing pretend, “and they lived happily ever after!” the three kids cheered to which Kaeya slightly laughs and you laugh along with them. The three kids gather around Kaeya and yourself, wrapping their arms around your waists. “Thank you!” “Thank you Mister Kaeya!” “Thank you big sister, you’re so pretty! I wanna be like you when I grow up!” Kaeya glances down at that particular kid and agrees. “She is, isn’t she? Truly a princess,”

You send him a mock-glare, playfully nudging his shoulder with yours. “You’re such a handful,” you mumble towards him and he smiles. “Oh? But my little princess seemed to like it,” you just glare at him again, but didn’t say anything in protest, still feeling the tiny butterflies in your stomach. 

Taglist:  @larkspyrr @outlet-0 @rim0na

[uncpanda]

The Ties that Bind: Unplanned

AN: This takes place after the chapter  Into the Woods 

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Master List

“Okay. I’ve got spaghetti ready to go.” You hear Aaron but you don’t register what he’s said. Instead you lean in closer to the screen and squint; then, you look back at the rubric. There’s nothing you hate more than grading  five paragraph essays. You hate grading them almost as much as you hate teaching the format. Stupid politicians. Stupid curriculum guidelines. Stupid standardized testing. 

Aaron calls your name.  You still don’t acknowledge him. Jack grins at his dad. “She’s grading, daddy.” 

Aaron smiles, “Thanks buddy. Why don’t you go wash your hands while I steal her laptop.” 

You hear that, “Don’t even try it, hypocrite.” 

Aaron raises an eyebrow at you before striding over and squatting down beside you. Your chosen place to grade is on the floor in-between the couch and the coffee table. Everything is digital which means you don’t have to worry about papers going everywhere. Instead, you just have to navigate about thirty open tabs. 

“If I remember correctly, you stole my laptop last weekend.” 

You go ahead and close the computer and lean back against the couch. “You’d been working non-stop for several days, and you looked like you were about to pass out.” 

He takes your hand and threads your fingers through his, “Work will still be there after dinner. I promise.” 

You lean back against the couch, “I’m really not that hungry. My stomach is weird.” 

“Weird?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been really nauseous in the evenings lately. I haven’t actually gotten sick, but 

I’ve just been feeling bleh. I’m pretty sure it’s just a cold.” 

“Is that why you didn’t kiss me today?” 

“Yep. You can thank me later.” 

He stands and offers you his hand. He pulls you to your feet and you have to lean against him as a wave of dizziness overcomes you. There’s a knock on the door right as Jack comes out of the bathroom with his clean hands. He smiles, and runs towards the door yelling, “Uncle Spencer!” He waits there bouncing in place. 

Ever since Foyet, Aaron has a strict rule against Jack opening the door by himself. When he’s sure you’re steady, he heads over. Sure enough your brother is there, all smiles. Jack dives around his father and into your brother’s arms. Spencer is a natural as he settles Jack on his hip. Jack is talking a mile a minute about the upcoming science fair at school. Spencer smiles and starts exchanging ideas for the fair- that stops when he sees you. “Hey.” The word is said with a puzzled look. 

“Hey.” You give a half hearted wave.  

“Are you sick?” 

“It’s a cold.” 

“It doesn’t look like a cold. What are your symptoms?” 

Aaron heads back to you, and wraps a steadying arm around your shoulders. “None of your business.” 

Aaron saves you from having to continue the argument, “Dinner is ready. Let’s go ahead and eat before it gets cold.” That’s enough to distract Spencer as he and Jack head towards the table. You and Aaron move a bit more slowly, as your stomach flips. You manage to take your seat. You feel better sitting down, until Aaron slides a plate in front of you, and the smell hits your nose. 

You’re out of your seat and running to the bathroom a second later. You hear concern from Jack.  As you empty your stomach you hear Aaron reassuring him and then you hear footsteps. A hand lands on your back and rubs smoothing circles until you’re done and then you hear more footsteps. When you’re done you flush the toilet and slump backwards against the tub. It’s nice and cold and feels great against your back. 

They’re both silent for a minute before Spencer asks, a little more forcefully than you’ve ever heard him before, “What are your symptoms?” 

“Spencer. . .” His name is a complaint. You don’t need your baby brother to worry about you. You’ve gotten through being sick on your own millions of times. 

Aaron calls your name. It’s firm. Demanding. It’s his unit chief voice. You’re not going to win this argument. “I’m nauseated in the evenings for a few hours. My back has been hurting. I get dizzy and I’ve been more tired than usual. But there’s a stomach bug going through the school and flu season is coming up. I’ll be fine.” 

You watch them exchange a look. “What?” 

Spencer clears his throat a few times before he very reluctantly asks, “Could you be pregnant?” You can see the pain on his face; having to even consider his sister having a sex life. 

You go pale. That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Your eyes go wide and you look at Aaron. It’s entirely possible. Sometimes you and Aaron aren’t as safe as you could be. Especially when he’s been gone for a while. 

Spencer groans, “Seriously? How many times did you give me the safe sex talk? I mean I already knew everything and you still made me sit through powerpoints and do those workbooks, and . . seriously? I mean it was mortifying. And now you’re pregnant?” 

“No. . .?” You look at Aaron for help. 

He shrugs, “Haley had a lot of the same symptoms when she got pregnant with Jack.” 

“You’re having a baby?” 

Jack’s little voice is like cold water over all three of you. You had been so caught up in things you hadn’t even noticed him. You expect hurt or tears or something, instead, he starts bouncing, “I’m getting a baby brother?” His grin is wide. 

Aaron looks at you and then back at Jack. His hand settles on Jack’s head, “We don’t know, sweet boy.” 

“You don’t know if it’s a boy? I’d be okay with a sister, too! Todd’s baby sister is really nice. It might even be better!” 

Aaron clarifies, “We don’t know if we’re having a baby.” 

“Can we find out?” 

All eyes focus on you, and you nod. Spencer stands, “Give me about ten minutes to research which tests are best. We’re probably going to want a variety to really make sure, and then I’ll go pick them up.” 

He’s out the door a second later and Jack wanders over to you. He sinks into your lap. You run your fingers through his hair and kiss his hair. He snuggles in. Aaron follows his son’s lead and sits down next to you. 

You hear the front door open and Jess calls out, “Hey! Sorry I’m late. Where are you guys?” 

Jack loudly yells out, “In the bathroom!” 

Her head peeks in a second later. There’s amusement on her face, “What are you doing on the floor?” 

Jack smiles, “I might be getting a baby brother or sister!” 

Her eyes go wide. She recovers quickly, “Wow.” 

You nod, “Yeah. Still processing here too.” 

“Symptoms.” 

You list them off and she winces, “Haley had the same ones. Are you getting a test?” 

“Uncle Spencer is researching to find out the best ones.” Jack explains. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah. I don’t think this night can get any weirder.” 

Jess nods, “Jack. How about we go eat?”

“Okay.” Jack kisses your nose and you smile. You give him another hug and he and Jess head back to the kitchen. Jess shoots you a smile and pauses in the doorway, “If you are . . . pregnant. . . . I’m still claiming aunt status.” 

You smile and Aaron is the one who answers, “Of course.” 

She heads after Jack and you and Aaron sit in silence for a minute. You bite your lip. “We’ve only been dating for six months, Aaron.” 

He leans his head back, “Are you upset at the idea?”

“No. Scared, maybe? Anxious? Yes. Because I feel unprepared.” 

He takes your hand and brings your knuckles to his lips. He places a kiss there, then one on your wrist. His lips stay there and he murmurs, “We’re having a baby.” The sentence is finished with a smile. 

You smile and move your hand from his so that you can cup his cheek. The two of you stay there for a few minutes. You feel nauseated a few more times but it eventually passes without incident. Spencer pops his head back into the bathroom and so does Jess. “We’re going to go pick up the tests. We’ve narrowed it down to three types. We’ll be back.” 

You give a tired smile, “Where’s Jack?” 

Jess smiles. You may very well be unexpectedly pregnant and your first thought is Jack. “In the den. He’s drawing a picture for the baby.” You get to your feet and  pad into the den while Jess and Spencer head out. Aaron is right behind you. You watch Jack for a minute, and turn to Aaron, “We need to talk to him.” 

Aaron smiles, “Let’s go.” 

You each settle on either side of the little boy. He smiles, “Do you know yet?” 

Aaron’s hand settles on Jack’s head, and the little boy leans into his father’s touch, “Not yet, sweet boy.” 

You smile, and then start, “Jack . . .how do you feel about us possibly having a baby?” 

“Happy. I want a brother or sister!” 

Aaron smiles, “Do you have any questions?” 

The little boy’s face screws up for a second, and he turns to you, “Does this make you my mom, too?” 

Your eyes go wide and you look over at Aaron who also seems stunned. You recover first, “Your mom is always going to be your mom. She loved you so much, Jack.” 

“Would she be mad if I called you mom, too?” 

You look at Aaron. This is his to take. You didn’t know Haley well. You’d only had one conversation with her. Aaron picks Jack up and moves him into his lap. You back away because this is a conversation for them to have alone. You retreat to Aaron’s room and fall onto the bed. You hear the door a few minutes later. You hear Aaron ask Jess to come over and a moment later Spencer appears in the doorway. 

“Hey.” 

He smiles and trots over to the bed and falls down beside you. You eye the plastic bag he places in-between you. “I got your tests. What’s going on in there?” 

“Jack wanted to know if Haley would be mad if he called me mom, too.” 

“Ah. That’s why Hotch called Jess over.” 

You sigh, “I think that caught me more off guard than possibly being pregnant. I didn’t think that would happen.” 

“You’ve been in his life since he was three. You spend a bunch of time with him. You go to all of his soccer games. Hell, you’re on his emergency pickup list. And you, Aaron, and Jack . . .  are kind of a family unit.” 

You sit up and his eyes follow you, “Aaron and I have only been dating for six months. We got together at the end of May and now it’s November, and . . .” 

“And you’ve been best friends for over three years now. You’ve gone through some horrible times together and it only made that friendship and your relationship stronger.” 

Your voice is a whisper, “Things are moving fast. I mean. . . we don’t even live together.” 

“You kind of do.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“A lot of your clothes and things are here. You spend most nights here. Your dog has his own corner. Where is Remmy, by the way?” 

“Under the bed. He likes to sleep under there.” 

Spencer’s brow scrunches together before leaning over the side to look under it. His voice is slightly muffled as he asks your dog, “How do you even get under there?” 

While he’s busy with that, you take the plastic bag and head into the bathroom. The tests are fairly straightforward. You take the tests and then you wait. There's about a minute left when you hear commotion in the bedroom. A second later there’s a knock on the door and Aaron asks if he can come in. 

You open the door and he slips in. He looks over at the towel covering the tests. “Do we know?” 

You shake your head, “Thirty seconds left. How did things with Jack go?” 

“Good. I explained that you would never take Haley’s place, but that Jess and I don’t think she’d have a problem with him having a second mom. We both think she'd just be happy that he was loved and supported and had another person to be there for him.”

You think about that for a second, “If you’re sure?” 

He smiles and swoops down to kiss your forehead, “Positive. Are you okay with it?” 

“It’s only been six months Aaron. It doesn’t feel fast, it feels like it’s meant to be, but logically . . .” 

“Logic has nothing to do with this. Our lives are oftentimes devoid of logic. Why should it play into this?”

You laugh at that as your timer goes off. You move to the counter and pick up the towel. You study each test, and look back at a hopeful looking Aaron, “They’re negative.” 

You see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. You take his hand. “I promise that one day, we will have more babies. Jack will get his younger brother or sister.” 

He pulls you to him and kisses you, before whispering in your ear, “Maybe a few of them?” 

You laugh and head out to your waiting audience. An eager Jack leans forward. You go to him, and pull him into a hug, “There’s no baby yet, bubba.” 

He frowns, “When will there be a baby?” 

You look at Aaron while Jess and Spencer try to hide their laughter, “We’re not sure. But it will happen, bud.” 

Jack looks back at you, and asks, “Does this mean I can’t call you mom?” 

“Well . . .” you falter for a second and look at Jess, she smiles and nods, “You are welcome to call me mom. And if you ever change your mind, my feelings won’t be hurt, okay.” 

He snuggles into your arms, “Does this mean you won’t leave anymore? That you’ll live here with me and daddy?” Your head whips towards a smirking Aaron. 

He shrugs, “I think it’s an excellent idea.”

There’s a bark from under your bed, and everyone looks towards the sound, but no one questions it. Spencer nudges you, “Going from a possible baby to moving in is actually a more logical step.” 

You and Aaron make eye contact and burst out laughing. Logic had nothing to do with it, but loving Aaron and his son and making a family with them was everything. And as Jack whispers, “I love you mommy,” you know you’re doing the right thing.  

[wlwreader]

Dancing with the Devil

A/N: Just a little preamble before you start reading. This Natalia is pretty different in the way she treats reader in this fic compared to my other fic for a few reasons(Devil’s Advocate. Not a necessary read for this one, but if you enjoy this fic you’ll definitely enjoy that one) I had kind of come up with like I guess my own little world. So I considered the black box+collar from my other fic to be a marriage proposal of sorts. You’re pretty much her soulmate, in that you’re souls are bound in a way after you’ve put the collar on. Yes in my world succubi and incubi can only take one mate, so you’re her personal juice box for eternity and she’s allowed to feel some type of way

Summary: You’re back where you belong.

Warning: Somnophilia, Dacryphilia, Voyeurism if you like squint real hard, Overstimulation, Ruined Orgasm, Oral Fixation again if you squint but not as hard, Kitten/Pet and Mistress calling, oh and uh Tail Fucking

WC: 5.2K+

Pairing: Succubus!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Days pass in a blur after that night, Natalia having burrowed her way into your every thought, forcing you to continue your life on autopilot. Even in your dreams she haunts you, mind plagued with visions of gleaming red eyes and that devilish grin that always sends your pulse racing (for reasons you refuse to admit to yourself). You try desperately to convince yourself that there has to be a reason she won’t leave your mind, that she must’ve put some kind of hex on you or maybe it’s some lingering effect from being railed by a succubus, anything other than you wanting her. You can’t want her, not when the only way you’ll ever be able to see her again is becoming some sort of sex slave...forever. In any other context, being someone’s fuck toy for the rest of your life would be nice, might even be considered ideal, not having to worry about your financial state and the promise of good sex. But forever with an immortal being? There’s really only one way for you to interpret that and eternity is a terribly long time to be someone’s personal plaything...right?

You shouldn’t even have to try to convince yourself that it’s something you don’t want. No matter how sinfully good she is with her mouth or how she seems to know all the right angles to hit just the right spot that leaves your toes curling and your eyes rolling towards the back of your head or how-

You flop back onto your bed with a groan, trying to stop that train of thought from progressing any further before you’re doomed imagining all the things you want Natalia to do to you for the rest of the night. A sigh slips past your lips as you roll on your side, ready to force yourself to fall asleep, when your gaze lands on the small black box that still rests on your bedside table and all your dirty thoughts come rushing back to the forefront of your mind, followed by a faint throbbing between your legs.

A hand trails subconsciously down to the apex of your thighs, eyes falling shut when you find your slit, slick with want. Your mind wanders from scene to scene, each wildly different from the last, but all of them featuring Natalia. Your breath slips past your lips in soft pants as you circle your clit, free hand tracing a path up your abdomen to grope your breast for a moment before you’re tweaking your nipple, back arching with a quiet moan.

Your fingers dip down, sinking into your leaking hole, when you hear a shuffling noise followed by a soft click. Immediately, you freeze, eyes wide as you sit up and scan your dimly lit room. No one...not a person or creature in sight. The windows are closed and still looked to be locked after squinting through the darkness of your bedroom for a long second and your door doesn’t seem to have been opened. You look around your room again, hand reaching out in the dark for any kind of semi-heavy object you could use as a potential weapon, when it meets the now open top of the box sitting on your nightstand.

Was she here now? Watching you? Have you been on her mind just as much as she’s been on yours?

A shiver runs up your spine, a smile teasing the corners of your mouth at the thought as you sweep one last look around your quiet bedroom. You reach for the lamp on your bedside table, turning it on while you eye the lacy black collar proudly on display resting inside the box before gently scooping it out, the small bell attached to the front ringing and clinking against the name tag. Your fingers trace over the red stitching lining the top and bottom, then down to tug on the matching red bow and around the back to undo the small ribbon that ties the two ends together.

You pause for a brief moment, reconsidering, but the throbbing of your clit is far louder than that little voice of reason trying desperately to coax you back to thinking clearly and so without any further hesitation, you wrap the collar around your neck and secure it in place. 

The silence of your bedroom is almost deafening as you wait...and wait…..and wait, til the ache that’s taken home between your legs expands, enveloping you whole.

The bell on your collar rings with your movements as you lay back, the sound muffled by the thrumming of your heart pounding in your ears. You ignore your hurt feelings (whatever feelings those may be) and focus on the wetness that’s gathered at the apex of your thighs, fingers fucking into yourself long into the night until you fall asleep, your hand tucked into your bottoms and the collar still resting around your throat.

Your dreams are more vivid than usual, almost as if replaying the memories and sensations of your night with Natalia. Images of her head buried between your legs, the vague feeling of hands gripping your hips, soft hair tickling the insides of your thighs and the warmth of a mouth teasing your slit has you squirming in your sleep. 

The throbbing of your clit slowly lulls you awake, the feeling of fingers pushing into your heat pulling a shaky, high-pitched whine from your lips while your hands subconsciously reach down to tangle in soft waves (your fingers brushing against something famillarily ridged and curved has your heart fluttering happily) and pull that heavenly mouth back towards your clit. 

A tittering laugh has you finally dragging your eyes open and you’re blessed with a view of a grinning Natalia, pointed teeth on display and her crimson eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you miss me, kitten?” The words come out low and muffled, Natalia not waiting for an answer as she presses her face back in towards your cunt and dragging one of her fangs gently across your clit.

Your back arches, bell on your collar jingling softly as you throw your head back into the pillows beneath you, an intense orgasm rushing through you without warning, your clit unexpectedly sensitive. Fuck...just how long has she been buried between your legs before you were dragged from your dreams?

Muscles relaxing, you land on the soft black silken sheets with a blissful sigh, her husky chuckle ringing pleasantly in your ears. Your hands fall away as Natalia trails burning kisses across the insides of your thighs, her breath cooling your slick and sweat covered skin when she speaks, “It’s about time you woke up, pet.”, her lips continue their path, bruises slowly blooming beneath her touch as she sucks and nips along your hips, up your stomach to trace the shape of your breasts before she mouths at the stiffened peaks, teeth capturing your nipple and tugging. Air hisses out past your lips as her fangs dig into your sensitive skin, your hands finding her fiery hair again. The onslaught of kisses continues up your throat until she pulls you into a heated kiss, her tongue slipping past your lips and you can’t help the whimper you let out when you taste yourself.

Natalia pulls back, air fanning across your face from her huff of quiet laughter as you chase her lips, eyes still closed. When you meet her gaze you’re almost shocked to see how vibrant the red of her irises are, as if they’re almost glowing, until your gaze sweeps up to admire her obsidian like horns, reminding yourself that she’s a succubus and she IS feeding off of your sexual energy. For the first time, you wonder what kind of power she holds.

She shifts to straddle you, the feeling of her hot, dripping cunt resting against your stomach pulling you out of your thoughts. Your hands reach out to grip her bare thighs, but a raise of her eyebrow has you dropping them uselessly at your sides as you’re reminded who’s in charge. She shifts again, hips subtly rolling with a breathy sigh falling from her mouth before speaking, “Although I can’t really complain about you sleeping so long. Not when you taste so…”, she pauses, tongue snaking out to drag across her plush lips, “Devine.” she practically purrs, eyes hooded while the corner of her mouth pulls up into that devilish smirk that has your pussy clenching.

Natalia’s hips rock down again, dragging her clit across your stomach before she leans back, hands braced above your knees as she starts grinding down in earnest, eyes falling shut. You’re enraptured by the sight, eyes flitting from her beautiful face, delicate features scrunched in pleasure; down to her heaving chest, perky breasts and pebbled nipples prominently on display. Slowly, your gaze falls further down along her body, taking in every inch of smooth flawless skin and soft curves, your mind consumed by thoughts of how utterly perfect she is, as if she were sculpted by god themself, before your eyes land on the trail of slick coating your stomach and Natalia’s puffy, leaking cunt while her hips continue to rock against you. You can practically feel your mouth water at the sight, an involuntary whine slipping past your lips as you realize just how much you crave to finally taste her, to please her.

Her breathy laugh has your eyes shooting back up to meet her vivid crimson stare, cocky smile on display when she teases you,

“What is it kitten? Are you not enjoying the view?” 

You can’t stop the heat shooting to your face as you try to remember how to actually speak, mouth moving before your brain can form an actual sentence and tripping you up on your words. She laughs again at your stammering, clearly amused by her toy.

“I..I wanna-- c-can I taste you, Mistress?” desperation seeps through your voice as you lie underneath her, fists balled in the sheets trying hopelessly to fight the urge to reach out and touch her.

Natalia grins, pearly fangs catching the light and drawing your attention, just in time to watch her tongue flick out to wet her plush lips. The way her red gaze takes you in sends a shiver down your spine and you can’t help the way the blood rushes to your face or the way your heart stutters in your chest.

“Please…” the word leaves your mouth in a whimper and Natalia’s eyes soften just a tad, though her wicked smirk is still painted across her lips.

She hums, hands moving from the tops of your thighs to run up along the sides of your chest; lithe fingers dancing across your ribs to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples, pulling a whine from the back of your throat, “I suppose I could put that pretty little mouth of yours to work finally,” her hands continue their path, nails tracing up the column of your throat and toying with tag on your collar. She’s watching you intently, eyes soaking in your flushed and disheveled appearance, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. Your mouth parts and in a trance-like state, you nip the digit, tongue teasing the tip of her thumb before enveloping it in the warmth of your mouth. Natalia’s pupils seem to dilate further than before, the inky blackness slowly swallowing the red of her irises. You watch as she shakily exhales and the pride that swells in your chest has your tongue working her finger just that much more, eyes falling shut as you start to lose yourself in the motions. The squeeze of her strong thighs as she grinds her heated cunt harder against your stomach reminds you of the question you had just asked and you look up, your gaze meeting nothing but black as she stares back at you.  “Would you like that, pet?”

The words leave her mouth in a breathy exhale and she hasn’t even finished speaking before you’re rapidly shaking your head yes, eyes trying their best to convey how much you ache to serve her. You watch hungrily as her soaked cunt nears your face, Natalia’s hands tangling in your hair and tugging your head to meet her wet folds.

“Then make that greedy mouth useful.”

You don't have to be told twice, not when you’ve been plagued with dreams and fantasies of her soaking your face in her cum, and eagerly your tongue flicks out to trail along her puffy lips a few strokes before parting them with deeper licks. She sinks down with a hum, pussy pushing further into your mouth as her nails scratch at your scalp. The taste and sensation of her cunt dragging along your tongue is almost enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You’ve never tasted someone so sweet and you can’t stop yourself from gripping her thighs and thrusting your tongue into her quivering hole with a greedy groan, trying to lap up as much of her wetness as you can. 

The heady moan you’re rewarded with sends a pulsing heat straight to your clit. Her hands tighten their grip in your hair, hips slowly rolling along your mouth as you reverently devour her cunt, eyes closed in pure bliss while your tongue fucks her leaking hole.

You can hear Natalia’s heavy breathing above you as she uses you for her pleasure, the soft moans cascading from her parted lips are interrupted by a gasp when you finally manage to pull yourself away from the never ending slick dripping from her cunt to latch your mouth around her neglected clit. You suck, tongue lashing out to tease the swollen bud before she’s bearing down on you with a loud keening moan, powerful hands holding your head in place as she grinds her clit against your willing mouth.

“Fuuuck, that’s right kitten,” her rasping voice is shaky and your cunt throbs, knowing you’re the reason why, “eat my pussy like it’s your last supper.”

Her words pull a whine from the back of your throat, the vibrations shooting straight to her sensitive clit and the sound that leaves her mouth has you seeing stars as you cum; thighs squeezed together, pussy clenching around nothing as you shudder and moan under her. 

Who knew demons could make such desperate pitiful noises?

Your orgasm doesn’t go unnoticed, if the tail teasing your twitching hole and the trembling laugh above you are anything to go by.

“Enjoying this, are we?” You don’t have to open your eyes to know she’s smirking, you can hear the smugness in her voice even as it wavers with every roll of her hips. “If I knew how ea-” she cuts herself off with a deep rumbling moan as you easily sink two fingers into her wet heat, digits immediately curling up to search along her walls for the spot you know will reduce her into a quivering, moaning mess.

Her tail pushes into your soaked slit as a dragged out yes hisses out past her teeth. The way Natalia’s hips buck against your fingers and mouth fucks her slick tail into just the right spot inside your fluttering cunt and soon your muffled moans join hers in a sinful symphony as she takes what she wants from you.

“Oh, you’re going to make me cum, pet.”

The words renew what little willpower you have left and with great effort, you stave off your impending orgasm to force your eyes open and focus on fucking your Mistress. You’re blessed with a sacred sight. Her back is arched beautifully, pushing her hungry cunt as far into your mouth and fingers as she can and putting her perky, full breasts on perfect display for your greedy eyes. Your free hand is reaching out without a thought and you watch as Natalia’s mouth falls open, freeing her bottom lip from between her fangs, while her brows furrow and her nose scrunches up in pleasure. You squeeze her tit, appreciating the softness under your palm and watch as her chest stutters, her breath faltering for a second before picking up again. Experimentally, you drag a nail against her pebbled nipple then take it between your fingers and pinch. 

Her nails dig into your scalp as she smothers her pussy against your face til you can’t breathe and you’re sure you’re going to die, suffocating happily between her thighs when she freezes on top of you. You feel the tell tale signs of her upcoming orgasm when her walls flutter around your digits, desperately trying to pull them deeper and eagerly you drag your fingers from her quivering hole to join your other hand in their ministrations so that your tongue can once again taste the saccharine-like slick. The thighs encasing your head tighten as your tongue plunges and curls in her cunt until Natalia is gasping out a moan and her cum soaks your face.

If you thought her pussy tasted heavenly, you’re sure her cum is the nectar for the gods. Your eyes roll back as you lap at the mouth watering wetness leaking from her, your own cunt spasming as her tail frantically fucks into your sopping hole until you're sure she’s hitting your womb with every thrust. 

Natalia has stopped shaking atop you, her hands and thighs loosening their hold around your head but she doesn’t make a move to get off you. In fact, her hips are rolling along your mouth again as you practically sob against her cunt from the intense pleasure between your own legs. Your hands grip desperately at her hips and thighs, eyes squeezed shut as you futilely try to chase your orgasm. You’re so close, god, you’re so close, but the edge stays just out of arm's reach and you can’t stop the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, nor can you stop them from falling, disappearing into your hairline and rolling down to join the mix of slick and cum coating your face as you cry and writhe pathetically under your her.

“You cry so cutely for me, kitten.” She purrs, “Let Mistress see those pretty, tearful eyes.”

The wild thrusting of her tail has died down to a slow crawl, dragging you away from the peak you were so pitifully chasing and so, with a whimpering sniffle, you dutifully open your eyes to meet Natalia’s pitch black gaze.

You can see the shiver of pleasure that runs through her body as you stare up at her with sad wet eyes, a shudder of your own wracking your body at her hum of “Good girl.” when you give her sensitive clit and cunt small kitten licks to clean up the rest of her cum. Her hands brush away any of your wayward hairs from your face before she drags a thumb along your temple, collecting your tears on the digit. You watch as she slowly brings her thumb to her mouth, gazes locked as her tongue slips past her lips to teasingly lick the salty liquid away with a quiet moan. 

Your pussy clenches around her tail at the sight, her tail twitching inside you in response and briefly you wonder if she can actually feel pleasure fucking you with it before you’re completely pulled from your thoughts as her pace starts up again.

With a sigh, she drags her cunt away from your soaked mouth and immediately your loud moans fill the once quiet room. Her body slides pleasurably against yours as she moves to lie atop you, chests pressed together and legs tangled as her tail continues to pump into your soaked hole. The tip of her nose trails your collarbone then up along the column of your throat, breathing in the scent of sex. Your hands tangle in the soft fiery waves of Natalia’s hair as she kisses above the collar resting against your neck before sucking the unblemished skin between her lips to bite and mark and claim and fuck your pussy just gushes at the thought of being her’s.

You lick your lips, a whine pulling from deep within your chest at the taste of your Mistress still coating your face, bringing you just that much closer to the edge. The appendage fucking into you twists and writhes in ways you’ve only ever felt her tongue do, but the added thickness of her tail has you hurtling towards climax, head thrown back, collar jingling as you press your neck further into her greedy mouth.

Your eyes are screwed tightly shut and your pussy quivers painfully, walls sore from the constant fluttering, and just as you start to crest the peak, her tail slips itself from inside you and your hole clenches miserably around nothing while you cum. You’re already crying again when your body relaxes, sobs bubbling past your lips at the ache between your legs and the still pent up frustration your ruined orgasm failed to rid you of.

Natalia pulls away from your bruised neck to admire her work, mouth parted in quiet awe at the sight of her cum covered, sweat soaked, crying pet; and reverently, she kisses along your jaw and cheeks, tongue lapping at the mix of cum, slick, and tears that coat your face, whispers of how pretty you look when you cry gracing your ears.

She leans back when she finishes cleaning your face of her mess and your eyes finally open again when nothing happens after, tears still trailing slowly along your temples and disappearing into your hair as you sniffle, just to find her watching you keenly. Only when your gazes meet does her tail dip down between your legs to sink into your poor sensitive cunt once more. It’s gentle in its movements, but that doesn’t stop the fresh wave of tears from welling up in your eyes as the pain ever so slowly starts to outweigh the pleasure. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, the tears that gathered there cascading in rivlets along your face, as the tail brushes along your walls, pressing into your g-spot. You can hear the click of Natalia’s tongue in disapproval as she tuts you.

“Keep your eyes open for me, kitten.” 

Fuck her voice is so sultry and rasping and you can’t stop your cunt from tightening painfully around the thickness inside of you at the sound. Her tail thrusts a little harder, hitting something inside you and pulling a choked sob from the back of your throat.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The words are growled into your ear and your eyes fly open. You can feel her tail twitch inside you again while she takes in your whimpering cries, tearful face, and sad desperate eyes. She plunges her tail deep within you again and you wail out in painful pleasure, eyes forced shut as your head tilted back into the bed.

There’s a low trembling groan from above you and before you have the chance to open your eyes once more, Natalia’s mouth is on yours, swallowing every whine and wail as her tail fucks into you deeply, twisting to hit every pleasurable, painful spot inside your pussy. Your hands tighten in her hair, holding her against you while you sob into her mouth, and your legs untangle from hers to wrap around her waist.

You’re close again, so painfully close and you don’t know whether you want her to finish you off or ruin your orgasm again, not when you know both options are going to hurt, but you don’t get to choose. You never had an option in the first place. Your Mistress knows just what she wants from you and she’ll take it, no matter what you say.

“I want you to cum for me.” She’s trembling, pressed against you, voice thick and shaky with pleasure and you nod frantically. She buries her face against your chest, mouth marking every available inch of skin within her reach. Your crying is louder without her tongue to muffle you and with every sniffle and sob, you can feel her tail jerk inside your trembling cunt. Natalia latches her mouth onto one of your nipples, pointed teeth burying into sensitive flesh and your fingers digging into the base of her horns as you cum with a keening wail. 

You can feel more than hear her cum with you as her moans ring through your chest, her tail squirming in your aching hole. Your pussy bears down on it, nails scratching at her scalp and catching on the ridges of her horns trying desperately to stop the painful pleasure wracking your body. The thickness inside you thrashes when your fingers scramble along the ribbed protrusion on her head and your sluggish mind slowly puts the two together, hands dropping to clutch at the nape of her neck and drag her into a sloppy kiss.

The moment your hands leave Natalia’s horns, her tail stops writhing and you breathe a sigh of relief into her mouth. Your lips disconnect as she pulls back slightly and when you open your eyes finally, you’re met with the quite literally glowing red eyes of your Mistress. As gently as she can, her tail slides out of your aching pussy, watching as your face pinches in pain at the soreness and she kisses your furrowed brow, nose brushing along your forehead and temple as she trails her lips down to press more kisses along the apples of your cheek and your scrunched up nose. 

It’s all so unexpectedly soft and distracts you enough from the burning stretch of the bulging end of her tail when she pulls the last few inches out that you don’t even cry out, though she’s quick to kiss away any silent tears that escape because of the pain.

“Are you okay?” Natalia breathes out. She’s watching you closely, intently, and when you nod yes, you’re blessed with your first genuine smile. No cocky devilish smirks or seductive, hooded eyed smiles. Just the smallest of quirks play on the corners of her lips, but it’s enough to have you staring up at her in silent reverence.

“Good.” She whispers and then, “Can you talk?”

“Y-yes.” The words come out quiet, hoarse, and trembling, your throat raw from all your crying.

You clear your throat and try it again, “Yes Mistress.” it’s just as rough as your first try, but at least the shakiness is gone.

“Good girl.” She’s still whispering, voice soft while she takes you in before she finally rolls off of you to sit up against the headboard of the bed. She’s patting the open spot between her legs, an invitation or a silent command, you’re not sure but you move your tired body to rest against her’s anyway. Your back is pressed against her front, your head rests against her pillowy breasts while her’s rests atop your own, chin pressed to the crown of your head and her left arm wrapping around to secure you against her. Her free hand stretches out in front of both of you and you watch in amazement as a fresh, cool glass of water appears right before your eyes in her outstretched hand, complete with a red striped straw.

She’s bringing it up to your mouth urging you to take the cup from her, her voice gentle against your ear, “Drink this for me, kitten.” 

You nod and do as you’re told, taking the refreshingly cold water from Natalia to start sipping and watching while two, what you think are, rags appear in her once again outstretched hand.

“Hold this.” She’s handing you one and you grab it with your free hand, feeling the warm damp cloth between your fingers and you think you can feel your heart melt when you realize what she’s doing. Slowly, she guides your legs open, not one word said while she dutifully and carefully drags the warm rag across the insides of your thighs, cleaning the drying slick from your skin. She trails the fabric closer to your sore center, just barely brushing your outer lips as she cleans the apex of your thighs, before running it along your overly sensitive slit as softly as she can, hushing you quietly when you whine and squirm. 

You can feel her press a kiss to the top of your head as she finishes, then she’s leaning back, left hand under your chin tilting your head, your bell twinkling softly, to look up at her while her right is taking the second rag from you. Her eyes follow her hand as she slowly sweeps the cooling rag across your lower face, wiping away any remaining remnants of cum coating your cheeks and chin. When she finishes, she gives you another kiss, this one lingering on your forehead.

The used rags vanish and she hums as she brushes stray hair from your face and you can’t help but to stare up at her with big doe eyes, melting under her gentle touch. You can feel the chuckle build in her chest before it flows richly from her full lips and you can hear the amusement that tints her voice when she speaks again, “Finish your water, kitten.” 

Despite everything that’s just happened, you still feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you quickly go back to drinking your water. It only takes you a few more seconds before you finish your glass.

“Would you like more?” You shake your head no and the glass disappears from your hand. “Do you need anything else, pet?” Her hands are softly stroking along your sides, stomach, and thighs, fingers massaging into any sore muscles they find.

“No, Mistress.” You’re quiet as you speak though your thoughts are loud, overcome with questions that soon fall into the recesses of your mind when she starts to shift lower onto the bed. 

Natalia pulls you over her while she settles onto her back, tucking you into her side and wrapping her arm around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You don’t hesitate to bury your face against her neck, your collar ringing with the movement and her chin resting against your head once more. Your leg and arm are thrown across her and you snuggle as close as you can with a content, sleepy sigh. She’s humming some soft unknown tune quietly, hands tracing patterns into your back and vaguely, you register the slithering sensation of her tail wrapping itself along your leg.

Briefly, your mind flashes back to the Natalia that left you in your bed all those nights ago with her cum leaking from between your legs and you can’t help the words that fly from your mouth.

“I didn’t know demons were into aftercare.”

She huffs a laugh, the air hitting the top of your head, and you hide your smile against her skin when she replies, “I’m a succubus, kitten, not evil.”

She must feel your mouth open against her, because before any sound can escape your parted lips, she’s shushing you. 

“I know you must have lots of questions, pet.” You hum a yes when she pauses waiting for your reply, then continues on, “I thought so. But now is the time for sleep.” One of her hands leaves the expanse of your back to run through your hair, nails dragging pleasantly along your scalp and you feel as she leans down, lips brushing across your forehead as she whispers. “I promise I’ll answer all your questions in the morning.” A kiss, then “Now, go to sleep kitten.”

You do, a small smile stuck to your lips.

[darkmulti]

I see your request is open for hc yay!

Can i request A!JKxO!Reader where jK has a huge dick and reader is a virgin and also his mate. So JK marries her and forcefully deflowered her and forcing orgasms out of her (bleeding/blood play while deflowering her is up to you). She found out JK’s obsessions of forcing orgasms out of hers until she passed out every night. JK also has a breeding and breastfeeding kink so he wanna knock her up just so he can breastfeed on her. He locked her up, all the time he spends with her is used to breed her while forcing as many orgasms out of her. Ok thats too long of an ask, sorry.. 🥺 thanks! 💜

-> I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH SHAUSHSHS

⚠️: NON CON, mention of blood, breeding kink, breast feeding kink, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia kink, angst, death, murder, slapping, somnophilia kink, rough sex

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!Virgin!reader

-> sorry for any mistakes

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your breed and Jungkook’s breed are not on good terms

The reason why is because your breed have better senses and are a lot stronger

Jungkook’s breed is the second strongest and let me tell you, they don’t like second place

Since they outdo your breed in numbers, they travel around in large packs and kill wolves your kind

If they eliminate all of you, they’ll be on top

Your parents raised you to stay away from them

They’re just trying to keep you safe because you’re their only child

They allowed you to explore the forest, but you couldn’t go too far

They still needed to be able to smell you out

You’re parents also told you howl if you felt like you were in danger

And you can only explore during the day time

Once it’s night, you must stay close to your parents so they can protect you

One day, you were sitting close to edge of a cliff

This was your favourite spot because it gave the perfect view of the sun setting

10 minutes later, you decided to go back to your pack only to be horrified by the scene

Your pack… everyone was dead

Blood everywhere

Bite marks all over their body

You walked into the crime scene more and saw your parents dead on the ground, next to each other

You immediately burst out into tears, not believing what you’re seeing

“Mom! Mom, please! Wake up!” You nudged her but it was too late

You sat down in between your parents and grieved the whole night

Why couldn’t they kill you too?

You were about to close your eyes but, caught an unfamiliar scent

Your natural instincts kicked in and you got up

You started looking around but that’s when something attacked you from behind

You fall to the ground and knock out after they give you one hard blow to the head

The next morning, you woke up in a bed

You frantically looked around, trying to put the pieces together, but that’s when he popped out of no where

His scent didn’t fail to reach you and once you inhaled it, you remembered all the traumatizing events of last night

Your heart rate increased and you immediately started to panic

“Where’s my mom?! Where am I?! Take me home!”

You started to freak out

“My mom told me to stay away from monsters like you! Leave me alone!”

You let out a piercing howl and made a run for it

However, Jungkook was faster and much, much stronger

He got a hold of your wrist and dragged you back to the room

He quickly pulled out his phone and shoved it in your face

You were squirming around at first but once you heard a familiar cry, you stopped

Jungkook was showing you live footage of wolves your breed, tied up god knows where and howling for help

Your heart crumbled into a million pieces

“W-why are you doing this to us?” You choked on your sobs while watching your breed beg for mercy

“Marry me, and I’ll let them go.”

You looked at him, appalled

“Marry? I won’t marry you. After you killed my family, you want to get married?!”

You pushed him away from you and slapped him

Jungkook poked his cheek with his tongue and quickly dialed a number

“Kill them all.”

You look up wide eyed and shouted “No!”

“You don’t wanna marry me so, now I have to kill them.”

“Wait! No! I’ll marry you! Please set them free!”

Jungkook smirked in victory and told his buddies to stop

“Wedding is tomorrow. Everything is planned, all you have to do is get all dolled up for me and say “I do.”

He left your room as you sat down on the edge of the bed, wiping your tears away

The next day was the worst day of your life

They woke you up early so, they could start getting you ready for the wedding

Once you said “I do” at the alter and signed the paper, Jungkook lips turned into a evil grin

After sealing your marriage with your first kiss, Jungkook drove you both back to your new house

Once you got inside you turned around and faced him

“I did what you asked. I got married to you and now, I’m your mate. You got what you wanted. Now show me live footage that you’re letting the wolves go.”

“You’re so cute, y’know? You really fell for it. The footage wasn’t live. Those wolves have been dead for a while. I could show you the footage of me killing them, if you’d like.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach

“What do you mean? It wasn’t real?!”

“You’re so naive, little one.”

You look at him, dumbfounded

“Why did you kill all of them? Why did you kill my pack? I just don’t understand. Why did you kill all of them just to marry me in the end?”

“Lower your voice, I don’t like being talked to in that way.”

“Go fuck yourself!” You yelled and turned around to leave

He pulled you back and carried you downstairs to the basement while you kept thrashing and yelling

“Let me go, you sick bastard! I don’t want to be near you. Your scent is disgusting!”

You made the worst mistake of your life that night

That was the first time you made him angry

He tried controlling himself but, after you insulted his scent, he wasn’t going to go easy on you

One hard slap after another shut you up pretty quickly

Now, you were terrified of him

Your cheeks were warm and stinging as hot tears glided down

All you could think was “why?”

Why was this happening to you?

Why was only your breed being targeted?

Why did he kill all those wolves?

It mentally tore you apart

You couldn’t wrap your head around anything going on

Before you could fight back, Jungkook got on top of you and pulled your dress down

“W-what’re you doing?!” You quickly grab your dress and struggled to keep it up

“No! No, please! I’m not ready! Please, I’m not ready! I hate you!”

You began to panic, so naturally you howled

“Please! I want my first to be someone I love! Please, don’t do this to me! I’ve never done anything bad in my life! You can kill me if you’d like!”

Crying and fighting wasn’t enough to stop Jungkook

He pushed his whole length in and started fucking you hard without letting you adjust

You frantically cover your breast and private part with your hands but he flipped you around and took you from behind

You felt disgusting and worthless

Your blood was streaming down your thigh and it covered his cock

Jungkook grabbed your ripped wedding dress and wiped up all the blood so, you’ll never forget this day

He threw it in front of you to make you feel even more bad about yourself

You looked away from the dress and focused on your breathing

The speed he was going at was unbearable therefore, it was quite hard to catch your breath

You started to cry for help, calling for anyone who was brave enough to save you

Jungkook’s size wasn’t easy to adjust to

It felt like you were being ripped apart

Especially because it was your first time

“P-please! S-slower! I can’t-”

Your voice cracked in between your sobs

You felt his cock grow inside of you and his tip began rubbing against your cervix

The pain was too much to handle so, you started to cry harder

“No! Too much! I can’t take it!” You wailed, trying to move away from him

He pulled you right back and went as deep as he possibly could

You came around him and thought it was over

Little did you know, it was just the beginning

Hours later, you were under him sobbing hysterically

You were filled with his cum to the point where it was leaking out of you

There was literally a puddle of cum in between your legs

You had bruises all over your arms and body because of his tight grip

And his strong scent made your head spin

You were a helpless, mess

Hickeys covered your neck, collarbone and jawline

Your lips were swollen from all the rough kisses

Your clit was burning from overstimulation

Your cheek was red and bruised

But, Jungkook didn’t plan on stopping

You felt like you were going to pass out when suddenly ripples of forced pleasure pushed through your body

You held your breath and tried fighting off the feeling but it was impossible

You started to cry more, not being able to handle the fierce orgasm

You sobbed uncontrollably, not know what was happening to your body

Before you could open your eyes again, you passed out

Jungkook hovered over you again and fucked you 10x harder after watching you spasm around him

He didn’t care that you were unconscious

You looked so hot in that moment, he couldn’t resist

This continued on for the rest of the year until he purposely impregnated you

If his offspring had a mix of his genes and a mix of your genes, it’d definitely be one of the strongest wolves to ever live

You were crying so hard, telling him to stop because you weren’t on anything

After you found out you were pregnant, he blamed it on you

“You have one fucking job and it was to take your pill.”

“I ran out of pills and I told you that night! I told you to stop. Jungkook, I tried my best to warn you but you didn’t listen-”

He pushed you back on the bed and forced another orgasm out of you, not caring about your pregnancy

You couldn’t fight him off so, you stayed still and hoped for the best

You didn’t want to stress out because it would be bad for your baby

Although you were pregnant, Jungkook demanded sex

Even when you were 8 months pregnant, he still fucked you as hard as he could

You were in so much pain but handled it for your child

The next month, you gave birth

You were obviously new to the mom life and it was quite difficult to adjust

Usually, women have to wait 4-6 weeks before engaging in sexual intercourse

The doctor explained it to both you and Jungkook, so it’s not like he doesn’t know

After you breast feed your newborn son, you tuck him into bed and go to your shared bedroom

You were still in a lot of pain and really wanted some rest

Jungkook was out hunting and when he came home, he was a bit intoxicated

You smelt the alcohol the moment he stepped in the house

He stumbled his way upstairs and slammed the door shut, scaring your newborn

Your son started to cry so you quickly got up to put him back to sleep but Jungkook didn’t allow you

“See what you’ve done? You wouldn’t have to deal with this shit if you had just taken your pill.”

You ignored him and went to your son’s room to put him back to sleep

Jungkook followed you to his room and pulled you out before you could pick up your son

“Did you listen to what I said? I’m fed up with this attitude of yours.”

“Let’s not fight in front of him. We’ll talk in the room.”

You escaped his grip and put your son back to sleep

When you enter your room, you see Jungkook sitting on the edge of the bed with his belt in hand 

Your heart dropped to your stomach

“N-not today. It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet.”

He scoffed, “do you really think I give a shit?”

He raised his voice a little and you gestured him to keep it down

“Don’t yell, he’s sleeping.”

“This is my house, I can talk however I’d like.”

There was no winning against him, especially if he’s intoxicated

You thought you could hold him off for the night until he’s sober again, but you were completely wrong

You were going to your side of the bed when he whipped his belt below your butt

He pulled you by the hair onto the bed and pulled down your night shorts

“I can’t, Jungkook! It hasn’t been 4 weeks! No!”

Jungkook always gets what he wants

His body weight kept you down as his cock plunged deep inside your cunt

You haven’t healed properly, so the pain was intolerable

You covered your mouth with your hand and sobbed

You still needed to be quiet but it hurts so bad

You pushed your face into your pillow and attempted to let out quiet whimpers

“It hurts! Please, slower!” You whispered

Jungkook purposely went faster and the skin slapping was so loud, you were afraid it’d wake up the baby

You were gasping for air, trying to get his body weight off of you so you could breathe normally

An hour after, you had another orgasm

You clutched onto the bedsheets and tried your hardest to remain silent

Jungkook came inside you again and collapsed on top of you, making you groan

He grabbed your right breast and began sucking as hard as he could until milk squirted onto his tongue

You tried squirming around to get him off, but the more resistant you are the more aggressive he gets

In the end, you passed out like always

You kept your distance from him and gave all your attention to your son

He hated that your attention wasn’t on him 24/7

So, he gave your son to his parents for a full month and kept you locked up in the basement

For that whole month, he fucke you senselessly

You were having orgasms every night; you couldn’t do it anymore

He’d bite down on your nipples and manhandle you all sorts of ways

You were exhausted but your son’s life was always on the line

Jungkook could easily hurt him

He doesn’t really care about your son

(I mean, he does but he acts like he doesn’t so he can use it against you.)

Jungkook only looks at your son as your weakness

He’ll make you have three orgasms in a row and if you tell him to stop or slow down, he mentions your son and it immediately shuts you up

He loved having so much power over you

He could literally fuck you for the rest of your life

You didn’t understand why this was happening to you, but there was nothing that you could do about it

There’s no one that could help you and even if there was, Jungkook will always one step ahead

No one dares to mess with him

I know this has lots of mistakes. I’m so sorry😭

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

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

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

[sombreboy]

Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I doing well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just to be his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would've made sure of it."

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