#drawing for fun has been nearly impossible lately

[writing-the-stars]

Mikaelson Ball (Klaus)

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: You attend the Mikaelson Ball, but not with who you expected. 

Warnings: Angst (You Know I Have To Slip It In There), Fluffy Ending, Typical Mischievous Kol, Slight Caroline Slander, Klaus Being Idiotic. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 3.4k (My longest one yet!)

A/N: Hey guys! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now and I thought it was about time I shared it with you all. Obviously, this was inspired by the iconic Mikaelson Ball episode, Dangerous Liaisons, and I had a lot of fun writing this one shot. As always, thank you all so much for reading! I truly appreciate it and I hope you all enjoy! Feel free leave a comment or submit a travel request. Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

Despondently, you stand on the balcony of the Mikaelson residence, looking out at the lightly illuminated forest before you. Morosely sipping on the champagne in your hand, you wonder how you had gotten to feel so foolish this evening. Had you read too much into the flirtatious rapport you and Klaus maintained? 

When he invited you to his family’s ball, you thought it was his way of finally asking you on a date after months spent charming you, but you are beginning to see that was an erroneous assumption. The Mikaelson had not spared one glance at you all evening, instead devoting all of his attention to a young blonde you now have an unfair disdain for. 

While there is clearly a significant class distinction between you and his family, was it preposterous to assume that the continual late-night visits and luxurious gifts he bestowed you with symbolized more than the bonding between friends? Perhaps it truly is just custom to the upper echelon. Finishing off your glass, you contemplate if you should just go home early and save yourself from any further embarrassment.

“Not much of a party person are you, darling?”

You spin around, startled by the sudden intrusion– hand clutching at your chest, willing your frantically beating heart to calm. “You scared me,” you announce to the interloper, relief filling you as you take in the sight of a handsome brunet– his dark eyes alight with mischief. The corners of his lips lift into a wicked grin, sending a rush of excitement to your abdomen. “My apologies,” he states, kissing the knuckles of your hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Kol Mikaelson.”

Your eyes widen at the revelation of his name, recognizing him to be one of Klaus’s many siblings. “Might I add, you look radiant tonight,” the Mikaelson continues with a charismatic smile, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. A light blush paints your cheeks. At least someone noticed. 

“Thank you. I see you’re just as charming as your brother.” 

The brunet frowns at your statement and you realize he must not know the connection. “I’m Y/N, Klaus’s friend,” you introduce yourself– the word tugging at the seams of your heart. You despise how reckless you were, taking the hybrid’s flirty nature to heart, especially now seeing how flirtatious his brother is. It is clearly within the nature of the family to be so winsome and you fell for it, developing feelings that will be nearly impossible to get over. Your propensity to fall in love too easily has yet again damned you to heavy heartache. 

“Ah, so you’re the pretty little thing that has captured my brother’s attention,” Kol acknowledges, causing a bitter chuckle to fall from your lips. 

“No, I am afraid that position belongs to someone else,” you inform the younger Mikaelson, his brows drawing in confusion. You don’t allow him much time to ponder as you begin moving towards the inside of the manor, announcing your departure as you have opted not to torture yourself any longer. 

“Wait,” the vampire stops you, grabbing at your wrist, “Stay. At least allow me a dance.”

You contemplate his offer, not wanting to linger around the manor any longer, but also having dedicated so much time to prep yourself for the ball, it would be a shame to let most of that effort go to waste. Besides, when is the next time you would have the opportunity to attend such a glamorous event? Reluctantly, you agree to Kol’s proposal, emphasizing you were staying for a singular dance. 

The Mikaelson smiles devilishly at you, “Perfect.” He offers out his arm and you accept it, allowing him to lead you into the grand room where he tells you to wait for him at the bottom of the steps. 

A voice rings out from the stairs you just descended, garnering the attention of Mikaelsons’ guests. You watch the family gather on the beautifully decorated stairway, awed by their beauty. Each member had their own unique allure that demanded your attention– none more so than that of Niklaus Mikaelson. The suit– perfectly tailored to accentuate his physical build– was a sharp contrast to the typical Henley and jeans you see the Mikaelson wear. His mussed curls were brushed back highlighting the delicate beauty of his face. His physicality combined with the effortless, smug way he carried himself had you wanting to swoon. Your envy of the blonde deepens as your heart aches, longing for nothing more than to be by his side. 

As if feeling your desire, for the first time this evening, Klaus’s gaze flits to yours and the hybrid is left mystified. He always thought you a true beauty, but to see it accentuated so magnificently left him speechless. His eyes linger, longer than he intended as he takes in the sight of you, hoping to burn the image in his mind. Pride swells in his chest as he takes note of the silver pendant dangling from your neck– the one he gave you a week ago. One of his most valued treasures. 

You feel vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, tearing your eyes away as the emotion swarming in you becomes too much to handle. You find Kol whose gaze is already waiting for you. He sends you a perilous wink, provoking his older brother’s ill temper. 

“Welcome. Thank you for joining us,” the Mikaelson sibling announces to his guests for the evening, commanding the grand room.

“You know, whenever my mother brings our family together like this, it’s tradition for us to commence the evening with a dance.” 

Unknowingly, your eyes drift back to Klaus, watching as he stands with his family in all of his grandeur. Visibly distinct from his siblings as his neck is adorned in white rather than the typical black bowtie of his siblings– a symbol of just how exceptional he is. 

"Tonight's pick is a centuries-old waltz, so if all of you could please find yourselves a partner, please join us in the ballroom."

The room erupts with excited chatter as you stifle a groan. Your luck would have it that the one dance you agree to is a centuries-old waltz you have never performed before. Is it not bad enough that you have to deal with the self-humiliation of misreading all of Klaus’s advances, but now you will have to face an additional layer of public humiliation?

Kol is quick to meet you at the bottom of the stairs, as promised, holding his arm out for you. Reluctantly, you wrap your arm around his, confessing your inexperience as he leads you into the grandiose ballroom, lining up with the other dancers. “Don’t worry, darling. Follow my lead and you will be fine,” he reassures, smiling down at you with that devilish grin– oddly bringing you comfort. 

The gentle strumming of a guitar begins as the two of you walk forward in time with the music– hands crossed in front of each other’s. Following Kol’s lead, you take another step forward, turning to face the line opposite of you. Sneaking a glance at the Mikaelson you love, you are alarmed by the animosity in his leer. You instinctively draw yourself closer to the younger Mikaelson as if his presence could protect you from Klaus’s enmity. Curious by your sudden action, Kol follows your gaze, finding the malevolent glare of his older brother– a devious grin plastering his face. 

Due to the irksome rule his mother set in place of keeping peace with the people of Mystic Falls, Kol has been forced to find his amusement in other ways, like using his brother’s new plaything to make the hybrid jealous. His goal is to see how long his brother will allow him to seduce you before he snaps and causes a scene. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game, but Kol has always been enticed by danger.

A gasp escapes your lips as you are unexpectedly spun by the brunet– unprepared for the sudden movement. “Relax, darling,” Kol whispers in your ear, taking note of how stiff you are. You breathe deeply, letting the breath settle all of your nerves as you slowly give your trust over to the vampire. As instructed, you follow Kol’s lead allowing him to waltz you in a circle, traveling around the ballroom. You are quick to realize that the steps of the waltz are quite repetitive and, after a while, take no effort for you to enact. All the while, whispers of jokes and compliments have you truly relax in the Mikaelson’s arms as you giggle at his antics.

From across the room, Klaus surveys the two of you lividly. The one thing he asked of his siblings tonight was to leave you alone, and yet, there his brother was twirling you around the ballroom. He knows Kol is doing this to anger him, but he can’t help satisfying his brother’s childish urge to incense him when he watches how close the two of you are becoming. That same dazzling smile you greet him with every night is now being given to his infernal younger brother. That captivating laugh that softened the hardest parts of him was now in response to his pestilent younger brother. Those decadent curves he’s been waiting to run his hands over were now being held by his soon-to-be-dead younger brother. The hybrid begrudgingly tears his eyes away from the scene, knowing that if he does not distract himself soon, a spectacle will be made. So, he returns his attention to the blonde vampire in his arms and continues to charm her as all part of his master plan. 

As you continue the steps, Kol leans in to whisper in your ear once more. Instead of the humorous observation you were expecting, he tells you, “This is the part where I leave you.”

You are not allowed time to react before you are spun out of the vampire’s arms into those of another Mikaelson sibling. As soon as the older Mikaelson’s arm wraps around you, you continue the repetitive steps, traveling in the opposite direction. 

“You must be Y/N,” he speaks and you provide a nod of confirmation. “And you are?” you ask of the vampire– unsure of which Mikaelson brother you are speaking with now.  

“Forgive me. I assumed with how special you are to Niklaus he would have informed you about the rest of his family. I am Elijah.”

An uncontained scoff exits your lips and the Original questions his previous statement, “Did I say something wrong?” 

“It’s just that you’re the second sibling to say that to me, and yet, Klaus has not spoken to me all night.”

Elijah’s lips purse at the statement– curious as to why his brother neglected you when he made it very clear you were to remain off limits due to your status in his life. He is even more perplexed when he takes note of the pendant on your neck– a highly valuable item his brother accrued. Klaus swore that pendant would only grace the neck of the woman he deemed exemplary enough to wear it. 

Nothing else of substance is exchanged between you and Elijah and the dance soon draws to an end. Bowing as you depart, Kol is by your side in an instant– arm being placed delicately on your shoulder. 

“You are playing a dangerous game, Kol,” Elijah forewarns his younger brother, doing nothing to dissuade the mischievous Mikaelson. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, brother. I’m just keeping Y/N company.”

Kol takes your arm, leading you away from his sibling and the rest of the ball. Unseen by you as you walk towards the front of the manor, Kol passes by the infuriated hybrid, taunting him with a wink. The seemingly trivial action pushes Klaus over the edge, having him lurch toward his treacherous brother– ready to tear out his liver. Fortunately for the younger Mikaelson, Finn had already anticipated his ill-tempered brother’s reaction and put a stop to any harm that would be done to Kol. 

“You didn’t have to walk me to my car, Kol. Thank you,” you state to the vampire once you reach the old Camry that has been with you since your high school graduation. 

“Mother would be furious if she found out I let a lady walk to her car alone.”

You smile up at the Mikaelson brother who kept you company for the duration of your evening. Thankful to him for unknowingly saving you from your own humiliation, you give the brunet a quick peck on the cheek, sending a streak of envy through the lurking hybrid waiting to have a moment alone with you. 

“Well, tell your mother she throws a lovely ball. And thank you for the dance, it turned out to be quite nice.”

The two of you part ways– Kol leaving a final kiss on your knuckles. You rummage through the small purse you brought with you, looking for your keys, when a new voice calls out to you– one you ironically dread to hear. 

“Leaving so soon? And without a goodbye.”

You turn to face Klaus, a dashing smile on his face, eyes shining with innocence as if he had done nothing wrong. “Saying goodbye implies that we even said hello in the first place,” you tell the hybrid rather bitterly, returning your attention to the retrieval of your keys. 

“You’re mad at me,” he informs you as if you couldn’t figure out your own emotions. You don’t dignify him with a response, grabbing your keys and attempting to get in your car. “Come on, love. Talk to me,” Klaus pushes, further stoking your irritation with him. 

“Oh, you mean like how you talked to me this evening after you were the one who invited me. Forgive me if I’m not overjoyed to see you after having been ignored,” you hiss at the Mikaelson. While you are aware you can’t fault him for your own romantic presumption, you can be angry that he invited you to an event and refused to speak. Klaus’s nostrils flare. How dare you be angry with him after you spent the evening romancing with his brother. 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so preoccupied fawning over my brother, I would have had the opportunity.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips. 

“Me? Fawning? If anyone was doing any fawning tonight, it would be you with your pretty blonde date. Kol was there keeping me company while you were off galavanting with her, so don’t even try to make me out to be the villain. The only reason I even came here tonight was because you invited me. Had I known I was gonna end up being pawned off to your brother I would have stayed home! I thought this was a date, Klaus. I thought you were inviting me to be your date to the ball. Clearly, I was mistaken, so you do not get to play the victim here.”

Klaus does nothing but stare– the two of you too furious to have a productive conversation. You shake your head in incredulity at his behavior, having nothing left to say, and get into your car. How dare he be angry with you? And for what, dancing with his brother? He certainly lacked any intention of dancing with you himself. What did he expect? For you to show up and decorate the walls with your presence. The audacity of that man. You continue your rage as you drive back to your home, only relaxing once you feel the stream of hot water on your skin. 

You exit your bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around your body as you shiver from the sharp temperature change. The warmth that encased you from your steamy shower becoming replaced by the chilly air of your drafty bedroom. You look towards your open bedroom window as a gust of cold air breezes by you– eyes rolling in annoyance. Typically, you leave your window open so Klaus can come in for his nightly visits, but you are in no mood to speak to the infuriating hybrid. You doubt he’ll be dropping by this evening anyway.

“Was that meant to keep me out, love?”

A frightened gasp escapes you as you quickly turn around, meeting a pair of familiar blue eyes. “You know, just because you’re a vampire and can move in silence, doesn’t mean you have to,” you scold the hybrid standing in your bedroom– back in his typical Henley and jeans. Your hand rests over your heart, willing it to recover from the scare. 

He chuckles, amused by the oblivion of humans, “Ah, mortals. I forget how frightful you lot can be.” You roll your eyes at the Mikaelson, ignoring his apathetic statement. “What do you want, Klaus,” you harshly demand, tugging the towel closer to your body. He sighs, annoyed by your loitering emotions, “We’re still angry I see.” 

“I am really not in the mood for this, so if you could kindly leave my house, that would be greatly appreciated.”

You turn your back on the hybrid, moving toward your dresser, hoping that he will be gone by the time you turn back around. 

“I came here to apologize, love,” the Mikaelson admits, stilling your movements. If there was one thing you learned about Niklaus Mikaelson through all of the stories he shared, it was that he NEVER apologizes. “What,” you question, turning to face the hybrid, uncertain you heard him correctly. 

“I’ve recently had a bit of a heart-to-heart and I realize that you are right.”

You sink to the foot of your bed– your brain having trouble processing the information it is being presented. “Okay,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. 

“I fancy you, Y/N.”

“Then why-”

“Caroline is just a mere distraction,” Klaus responds, having anticipated your next question, “You don’t live to be a thousand years old without acquiring a few enemies over the years. If anyone were to discover my feelings for you, they would use you as leverage. By devoting my attention to Caroline, she becomes the target while you remain safe. She means absolutely nothing to me.” 

Silence hovers between the two of you as you analyze the gravity of this new information. All those nights you spent exchanging stories and laughing until sunrise were just as equally treasured by Klaus as by you. The flowers, the drawings, the jewelry, the little moments of silence, and the shared moments of vulnerability all were valued, all were cherished just as fondly. Your bond with the Original Hybrid had not been imagined, had not been one-sided. A smile graces your lips at this revelation. He cared for you– enough to put someone else’s life at risk. To parade around feigning love for someone so that you remained unharmed. Not only did that seem unfair to the girl, Caroline, but ironically idiotic for one of the most intelligent men you knew. 

“Klaus, this has to be one of the stupidest things you have ever done,” you chuckle at the hybrid’s plan, “Rather than just confess your feelings for me, you opt to pretend to be in love with someone else so that I’m safe? You couldn’t have thought that would work.”

He frowns at your laughter– not expecting the conversation to go this way. In fact, this whole evening went rather unexpectedly for the Mikaelson. He had envisioned how the night was supposed to go, all everyone had to do was act accordingly. Now he is beginning to see not everyone is a pawn he can so easily move around. 

“Yes, well, I had your safety in mind. The details were irrelevant.” 

Your laughter echoes around the confines of your bedroom amused by his poor plan conceptualization. Klaus would be irritated by your laughter had it not become something he is obsessed with. And while you may think of his plan as silly and moronic, he knows how successful it was at keeping you safe, and that is all that mattered to him.

“I’m glad that you’re amused, love. May I be forgiven now?”

You smile up at Klaus unable to resist the charm of that smile. Walking towards the hybrid– the man that you adore– you bring your lips to his, finally fulfilling all of your fantasies. “I’ll consider that a yes,” the Mikaelson chuckles as you break away from the long-anticipated kiss. 

"Put me through that again and I'll ram a stake so far up your-"

"Noted, love."

Taglist: @catmikaelson20 @jennyamanda8 (I couldn’t remember if you wanted to be tagged in all of my TVDU post or just Elijah. If just Elijah, let me know and I will remove you from the general taglist!) @tsukilover11​ (Same with you. Let me know if you want to be removed from the general list!)

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask and I will happily add you!

#tvd klaus #niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson oneshot #klaus mikaelson angst #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson x female reader #klaus mikaelson x fem!reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x y/n #Self Insert #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries one shot #the vampire diares imagine #tvdu #tvdu imagines #tvdu angst #tvdu fluff #tvd #the mikaelsons #the mikaelson ball #the originals #the originals imagine #the originals one shot #the originals fanfiction #the originals angst #the originals fluff

[dwn024]

can you tell me about teto i dont really know who she is. sorry

YOU MEAN MISS KASANE TETO I LOVE KASANE TETO!!!! i’d be very very happy to do so!!

so kasane teto Originally started as an april fool’s prank by 2chan wayyyy back in 2008 to make a fake troll vocaloid to rival hatsune miku, and she was released as an UTAUloid for use in UTAU software (a free open-source vocal synthesizer similar to vocaloid). a lot of information about her as a character was stated only as a joke cuz she was made As A Joke such as her age being thirty and her gender being “chimera” but it’s fun to interpret those things literally because she’s more an instrument than an actual character so she’s up for interpretation. i like when people draw her with devil wings and tail and horns it’s cute^_^

she had a couple breakout songs back in the day but for the most part has still just kinda been regarded as a joke and EXTREMELY underrated and underappreciated, there aren’t a lot of UTAU teto originals that i actually like unfortunately:( but there are of course the classics. and she’s in triple baka which i think is what most people probably know her for. she was never a Real vocaloid, but teto territory interprets her as REALLY REALLY wanting to be a vocaloid like that’s her Dream she has to work her way up there even if it seems far off and impossible;v;

BUT RECENTLY!!!! as in APRIL 1 2023 RECENTLY!!!! it was announced miss kasane teto would be getting A BRAND NEW OFFICIAL COMMERCIALLY-LICENSED SYNTHESIZER V VOICEBANK!!!!!!!! even if she isn’t Technically a vocaloid (miku isn’t anymore either) she finally became a real vocasynth!!!! AND SHE SOUNDS AMAZING!!!!!!!!

this was another of her breakout songs back in the day but wasn’t nearly as popular as the joke ones i don’t think, but it SO pulls at my heartstrings to hear how far she’s come!!!! she clawed her way all the way to the top man she finally made it!!!! AND considering the stupid shit crypton has been up to lately SHE SOUNDS EXPONENTIALLY BETTER THAN MIKU’S NEWEST BANK!!!! it’s INSANE how fantastic synthV teto sounds to the point i literally spent real actual money to buy both her and synthV full version just cuz synthV is notoriously hard to crack LIKE EVEN HER ENGLISH IS SOOOO SO SO FUCKING CLEAR AND EMOTIVE AUGHHHH every time i remember how far teto has come i want to start crying i’m so so proud of her

also her favorite food is baguettes i just think that’s cute

#vocaloid #kasane teto #cc #music #long post

[tamelee]

hi! I really enjoy your art, it has a very unique touch to it that I really like. do you sell prints of your art anywhere?

I've never been much of an artist myself, but lately I've been feeling like I would really like to try and learn how to draw. I know it takes a LOT of practise and that some have a more natural touch to it than others, but do you have any tips for a beginner? where should I start? I have tried reference pics and stuff like that but I never seem to get them right. how can I keep myself motivated when nothing I try turns out the way I imagine it?

sorry if you've already answered something similar to this, I would love to read that too. sending you good vibes and many thanks in advance ✨

Aaaahh thankyou so much! 💕 I don't yet but will soon I'll update on that 🎉🫶

Absolutely!

And wow that's great to hear! I'm really excited for you honestly because it's really fun :3 Well, my ways have always been a little unconventional but most teachers would tell you to pick up a pen and paper and.. just start drawing/doodling with whatever reference you have. Or if you have a pen tablet already, explore the program you're working with. Any kinds of brushes, try them out, try functions the program has- see what it does, make it a fun experience because you can't make any mistakes. It isn't something you have to deliver to anyone, this is practice and this is for you. Put on some music or watch a show on the side that's easy to follow (not one you have to pay close attention to) and just scribble away. You can use an extra program like 'Pureref' (which is free!) that allows you to drag in any references you need on top of your drawing-program or create an extra window where you can drag in any images and rearrange everything just the way you like it, like this:

And then let's try a Sasuke sketch in that pose upper-left corner.

I usually flood the document with a bunch of references in case I need it. (It's always more than I need but I hoard my files a lot 😂.. I think it's a fear of it not being enough "just in case"- but it's okay.) When I'm coloring a sketch, I think of colors beforehand but it kinda depends on my mood. Most of the time I don't bother until I get to the lighting stage. If you feel like you don't really got the hang of using a pen-tablet yet, there is a good tutorial with exercises here. And don't worry at all!!! Because it'll get much easier and easier overtime, just please take care of your hands and stretch gently always. Remember it is never supposed to hurt.

Honestly the way to improve fast with art is... just get obsessed over something 😂 and draw that. Find something you like and enjoy drawing it at least from my understanding that is what happened to many people. For me it's.. well.. If you want to get inspired, go to places, preferably professional spaces and make a board with art in styles you really like. (Or a folder for example!)

This way you can use references to make something and it's a good start/practice ^^! At least it was very helpful for me! If you feel like nothing turns out the way you imagine it, then don't worry about it please.. creating something involves so many steps it is nearly impossible.. or it is impossible actually to have something turn out exactly as you imagine it beforehand. It is more important that the end-result is something that is satisfying which has more to do with the actual process itself. And I know that is not something you might want to hear now but I guess you'd have to experience it? At least for me, every new art I make involves something along the lines of "oh I kinda liked that" or "ew, no, nope, no, not doing that ever again" it's a constant process. Here are some helpful video's for beginners because I think visual inspiration would be more beneficial for you than just a bunch of text from me!

5 FIRST STEPS TO LEARN TO DRAW

HOW TO DRAW SIMPLE FACES

HOW I STUDY DRAWING

Advice for Starting your Art Journey

Extra (not necessarily for beginners):

Why BELIEF Is More Important Than TALENT

How I Reduce TOXIC Perfection As An Artist (Best Drawing Exercise TO Do)

What to do If you aren't Improving

Why it takes so long to get good at art

I hope any of this is helpful to you and I hope you have a nice day 🌷💕! Happy drawing!

#asktamelee #art tips #art tutorial

[thesternest]

so the amazing tumblr mutual @leoonius has been making art for my story Callbringers which you can read here

so i thought why not post the art (and yes i did ask for permission to post it) to showcase the characters

Why not start with the protagonist Orev Karva Arminius Vi-Fervall himself It's impossible to explain my thought process about this guy because I rotate him in my head at light speed literally all the time (it is terminal) He is the older twin child of the archduchess Raenill Karva Arminius and the older twin of our second protagonist When his city is attacked by an invading army he runs away and abandons his home city to its fate where will he go? Will he return to take it back? Who knows (not me)

Ashelyn Karva Arminius Vi-Fervall is our second protagonist (and a headache since i didn't plan her plotline nearly as much before putting her in the story but I still like her)

While Orev chose to run away while his city was under attack she chose to hide (which proved to be a bad idea) and now she is stuck being a puppet ruler while trying to preserve her autonomy and take out the ruler controlling her beneath his nose

And now we have Magnie Vi-Daulfenn (the one who is holding the brain cells)

She is a Platinumforged (if you want to know what that means you'll have to read it) Im not really sure where her plot is gonna go but it sure is fun to think about her becoming Encrusted (once again im not telling you)

Then there's Faolan Wolventhorn (yes I know the last name isn't very creative to give for a wolf person but shush) he is also very fun to think about He's a deaf swordsman wolf-boy who wants to be the next head of his House

Then there's Faolan's Sibling Fyndrenn They are a very late addition to characters i spin in my head but i am already starting to get somewhere They state their goal is supporting their brother in his ambitions (there may be something else too who knows not me) If they were to be in a different setting than fantasy they would be in a western

secret drawing

Autism beast Fyndrenn Jumpscare

#Callbringers #Orev #Orev Karva Arminius #Orev Karva Arminius Vi-Fervall #Ashelyn #Ashelyn Karva Arminius #Ashelyn Karva Arminius Vi-Fervall #Magnie Vi-Daulfenn #Faolan Wolventhorn #Fyndrenn Wolventhorn #Wormblr #im tagging this as wormblr because most of my mutuals are there #and i want my mututals to see this #art #not my art #my writing

[kitaychan]

Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you’d like to know better!

Thank you @fizzycherrycola  for tagging me! <3

What book are you currently reading?

I'm still making my way through "The vortex" by José Eustacio Rivera. The book is a classic in here and it has amazing descriptions of the amazonian rainforest but I always forget where I leave the book lol but I'm close to end!

What’s your favourite movie you saw in theatres this year?

The Batman! I loooove Batman and I was astonished with Robert Pattinson's take on the character and Paul Dano did an excellent job as The riddler!

What do you usually wear?

I wear a lot of dresses and big coats, they're comfy and look cute, I also lean to soft colors though lately I've been buying more green clothes...

How tall are you?

I'm the tallest in my family, but people here are not so tall...

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

Cancer. My birthday is on independence day, so it's annoying at times, but it's always festive!

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

Ilich is a nickname, but irl I just go by my name.

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

Haha no. When I was a child I wanted to be an astronaut which is nearly impossible in a country that has no space program. Though I am happy with what I am now.

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one?

I am 🥰

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

I am very good at swimming! I used to take lessons and all, but I am very bad at the trademark sports here like soccer and cycling.

Dogs or cats?

Cats!

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this year?

I really liked this part of Together, I had fun researching about how outer space looks like and idk that part always gets me.

Everything seemed to work normally. Alfred lost count of how much time had passed, days, nights, it was hard to tell after they crossed by the Andromeda Galaxy, clouds of nebulae and a foreign web of constellations displayed an overwhelming number of suns, leaving them with the knowledge of how small the spiral-like Milky Way actually was.

There was a pause and shake of their heads every time the system marked a break on the distance from home. An infinite path strayed from their calculations, from their lifespans, but the prospect of a finish line for their journey didn't comfort them either.

In a surge of boredom, Alfred turned off the gravity inside, they seemed astonished at first. Wang had tried to turn it back on, but he had shoved him away and a childish game of tag started. It was strange, how unprofessional this was, how they were wasting time and energy on something so… human.

Alfred laughed, even when he knew they couldn't hear him, that they couldn't see his smile through the helmet, and it was… nice, for a while, but his laughter turned into sobs.

They were together, but not really.

What’s something you would like to create content for?

I think I'm happy with what I've done, and instead of creating new stuff I'd stop doing it, I want to finish my stories and take a break.

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

Cooking, this year I'm the one preparing the Christmas dinner and I've been practicing and planning what to do. Some of my family is coming over too so Idk I'm a bit nervous with that haha

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

The Wakanda forever movie, there's something about how they handled having two powerful nations/empires and putting them against each other that simply disappointed me... It's a good movie but idk what I was expecting.

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

Hmm I've been crocheting lately and it's getting better haha

Are you religious?    

I'd like to say no but I'm constantly catching myself for assuming that some traditions here (that are heavily catholic) are also usual in other places, so that makes me go 🤔🤔

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

Ahh I need some nice buñuelos (a pastry), in fact I think I'll get some of those on my way home.

I'm tagging @fireandiceland @magictrio1118 @darcymariaphoster and @crumpled--notes if you want to~

#tag game

[vt-scribbles]

🎶 music and 💥💥💥 BANG!!

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Oh ABSOLUTELY I listen to music! I find it nearly impossible to write without it, tbh. I always look for instrumental or cinematic music when writing certain scenes. I sometimes even build ambiance tracks with sound effects and such if it calls for it. Fun fact: the Undertale soundtrack is irreversibly tied in with The Harvester's creation. Undertale came out the same month that TH was made, and a lot of characters, scenes, and chapters were made while listening to the OST.

Lately I've been listening to a LOT of Set It Off, almost exclusively. Set It Off is my 'Hema Spite Band' [or one of them] and pretty much 90% of the time will spawn some art of him for my warm-ups. I've been listening to Projector, Cordial, Lonely Dance, Why Worry, Criminal Minds, and Midnight Thoughts in particular on any given day.

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

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

So....... I have a mixed relationship with Criticism! And it completely hinges on a few things.

1: Did I ask for criticism? 2: What is the nature of the writing? Was it for-fun, or was I TRYING to make something with quality?

For The Harvester, the truth is... I don't like unsolicited critique because 1: I didn't ask for it, and 2: It's... just a roleplay. That's all it is. It's a silly story written between myself and my GF, first-draft, and we don't take it super seriously. It's for fun, and because we like the story and characters! So we don't ask for criticism because tbh, that's not where we want it.

But, for example, sometimes I post mini-stories and actually DO want critique on it. In those cases, I /ask/ for it. I want to seek improvement, and want to hear what I could do better.

I think my biggest problem with online criticism unfortunately, though, is that it often isn't offered in a constructive or healthy way. A criticism should offer both what the person thinks you did wrong, but also what they think you did /well./ That way they know what to build off of, and what to continue doing.

Also... writing criticism is particularly hard because it's much more subjective than, say, the anatomy on a drawing of a human. Every author is trying to achieve something different. One author may be trying to make social commentary, and they would want criticism on their writing to further meet their goal. One author may want to be as grammatically correct and concise as possible. One may want to make you uncomfortable. Another may want to make a steamy romance. Another author [me] may want to paint vivid animations into people's heads, and to take them on fantasy journeys with fun characters and at least vaguely-interesting plots that keep you guessing!

Each of these authors would need a different flavor of criticism. And they don't often overlap. For example, I rarely want criticism on my grammar, punctuation, or more technical things. I focus more on imagery, word choice, sensory stimulation, and making my writing as fun [but understandable] as possible! So it may be at a third-grade reading level, but is it fun??? If yes, then great! My writing structure may be a lil wonky, or a bit amateurish, but that's okay. I'm having fun, and Corrie [my GF] is having fun, and to us, that's all that matters. <3

So, criticism has its place... but it's complicated and subjective, and I don't like receiving it when it's not asked for.

#;;The Harvester #The Harvester #VT Text #Author Ask Game #long post

[cavsansspice]

Hu Tao needs to file her taxes and Yanfei offers to help. For a price, of course.

Be sure to follow me here on Twitter!

---

It takes forever to corner her. 

Hu Tao is slippery; easy to find when she isn’t wanted around and impossible to track down when one actually needs her. And if there’s someone dead around? Even better because she’ll find you instead, offering her services with a wink, a well-punned pitch, and her business card. 

Yanfei taps her foot impatiently, the rhythm she strikes against the ground like a heartbeat. “You can’t avoid me forever,” she says a little too loud, drawing the eyes of those passing by. She knows that Hu Tao is there, though. Yanfei can practically taste it.

“Who, I, Hu Tao? Avoiding you?” Bingo. Yanfei turns to her right and finds Hu Tao grinning back, amused. 

“There are legal forms for you to fill,” starts Yanfei, already shifting through her bag. “They’ve been past for nearly a month—”

“I do believe that I told Mr. Zhongli to submit those,” replies Hu Tao, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her tone then takes a dry tone. “What else am I paying him for? It’s not as though he prepares—”

“That’s quite enough of that. I don’t need the grisly details of what’s done to your…” A pause as Yanfei wrinkles her nose. “Clients.” Another pause. “And don’t blame Mr. Zhongli! It’s your paperwork, not his—” 

Hu Tao rolls her eyes in a dramatic flourish, acting as though legalese is the bane of her existence.

Which it is. And Yanfei gets it—truly she does. Hu Tao runs a tight ship and her business is one of the most legitimate around. There’ll always be dead to lay to rest and there’ll always be people who need that comfort. Yanfei would be terrible at it.

But, it isn’t an excuse to skirt around the bylaws, no matter how enterprising Hu Tao might think it. Hu Tao knows these laws as well as her. Yanfei finally turns to address her again only to find Hu Tao thirty paces down the road, having snuck off without a peep. 

Yanfei is quick to follow, her book slapping against her hip as she hurries after. “Hu Tao!”

To her surprise, Hu Tao listens, stopping dead and pivoting on her heels. “So, it’s like this,” she says, meeting Yanfei’s face with a mischievous smirk. “The Parlor’s just been so busy that I kinda forgot. And it isn’t that I don’t want to fill them out, I just—”

“They are tax forms,” cuts in Yanfei. “No one wants to file those but they still do.”

Hu Tao huffs, arms cross over her puffed chest. “I pride myself in following the law, I’ll have you know!” Then, she thumbs her chin in thought. “Actually, that reminds me. I have some questions that you might be able to answer. There’s this client—something about their brother adventuring. They refuse to think about my two-for-one deal even if it’d be good—”

“That would be a flat rate of six thousand Mora.” Yanfei’s smile is a little too sweet to be genuinely nice.

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Hu Tao’s cheeks puff as she pouts, making her look like a chipmunk.

“No one works for free, least of all you. You usually file your taxes—”

“I swear to you, it’s on my list—it’s just that it’s a long list. A long, long list of important things to do and Mr. Zhongli, bless his strangely old-fashioned soul, has been weirdly distracted lately.”

Yanfei blinks. “Mr. Zhongli is usually distracted.” He’s the most distracted man that she knows, head in the clouds, feet barely on the ground. Yanfei’s wondered before how he has never walked right off a cliff, he’s so dense at times.

“More so than usual, then,” says Hu Tao.

Yanfei believes it. Liyue Harbor is still rebuilding in the aftermath of the resurrection of Osial—part of the reason the Wansheng Funeral Parlor has been so very busy. It’s a good time to be in the business of death, morbid as it may be.

“Miss Hu Tao,” says Yanfei gently, “just be honest. You aren’t in trouble. I just need the paperwork sooner than later. And I certainly don’t want to be the one to have to temporarily close the Parlor down because your operating license has been temporarily suspended.”

“Aiyah—” Which is usually an exclamation, but here, Hu Tao sighs it, seemingly aggrieved. “So, it’s kinda dumb.”

“I promise you that it can’t be worse than anything I’ve seen and heard before.” Yanfei’s seen some weird stuff in her long life as legal counsel, some things so bad that she’s blocked them from her mind entirely. In one ear, right out the other.

Until she’s reminded of them, of course.

“Am I crazy, are the forms…you know—different.”

“Different?”

“Funky.” Hu Tao waves a hand vaguely. “Off, I guess. The numbers came out all wrong. And Morax above, I certainly didn’t let Mr. Zhongli run those because he doesn’t know a Mora from a rock. My math’s certainly sound.”

Yanfei taps her chin. “I’m still looking over the new tac addendums that the Qixing passed. Someone has to pay for the Jade Chamber, as you well know. I wasn’t aware that it might affect business seeing that they are primarily private taxes for citizens.”

Hu Tao grunts. “Well, it seems like it did. I’ve been crunching the numbers again to double-check.”

Yanfei pats the book at her side with care. “I wonder,” she says as she thinks, pages and references numbers, and law codes coming to mind.

“Wondering is never a good thing when it comes to you.” Hu Tao regards her suspiciously. 

Yanfei turns back to her, a new idea burning a hole in her pocket. “Why don’t we do the forms together?”

Hu Tao blinks and then screeches. “Ehhhh?”

Yanfei winces at the piercing yell that cuts through the air. “It’d be a win-win,” she says, rubbing gently at her forehead. “I help you and you help me. We can do it while sharing a nice lunch. I’m dying to know what’s on Xiangling’s menu today.”

Hu Tao hums as she thinks, licking her parched lips as she watches Yanfei’s face for any twitch of dishonesty. Yanfei tries to not be offended. As if I’d lie.

Not that she doesn’t craft deals to benefit her, of course. That’s just the cost of business. “I swear,” says Yanfei, “no tricks up my sleeve. Only solid legal advice.”

“Might as well. Mr. Zhongli is useless when it comes to this sort of thing. How’s he lived so long? Like, how do you become an adult without knowing the most basic of things?” Hu Tao sighs in exasperation.

Yanfei knows, of course, her mouth curled into a smirk. “You hired him, which means you can fire him.”

Hu Tao doesn’t immediately answer, shooting Yanfei a rather annoyed look. “He makes good tea,” she says. 

Yanfei thinks that is a terrible reason for putting up with a subpar employee. She rolls her eyes, foot tapping against the ground, that earlier impatience making its rounds again. “Look, do you want my help or not?”

“I, Hu Tao of the Wansheng Funeral Parlor, happily accept the bargain.” They shake hands, the deal made, and turn for Wanmin Restaurant. 

It isn’t until they’re settled into a table there that Yanfei generously quotes a total sum for her impending legal fees.

#genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin #Hu Tao #Yanfei #fanfiction

[liminal-storage]

What Folklore Monster Protects You?

Cadejo

There is no such thing as Black and White, Good and Evil, Yin and Yang. The world only knows the various greys in-between.

        Nearly every culture out there has some manifestation of the righteous and the treacherous. The cadejo is no different. Hailing from Central American folklore, the tales of the cadejo varies from country to country but they almost always come in two separate variations. The pure, helpful white dog, and the malevolent, evil black dog.  

        The white dog helps to guide lost travelers out of the woods and is the only force which can kill or harm it's evil brethren. 

        The black dog, that which cannot be killed, prowls the streets at night, searching for its next victim. Once it chooses its prey, it stalks. Almost nothing can draw its attention from the hunt. Its raspy snarls and soft growls can be heard, usually a sign of the victim's impending doom. Your only chance of escaping its open maw is the intervention of the white cadejo.

        You have never been focused on the technicalities of life. Nor have you agreed with many people's boxed-minded views on the concept of good and evil. Nothing in this world is inherently good or evil. You choose to live your life in the grey. This does not make you a bad person. Your life is how you choose to live it and the choices you make along the way. You simply won't allow for moral conflicts to interfere with a logical train of thought. It is this perspective on life which has attracted the cadejo to you. Just be wary of your guardian, it is nearly impossible to tell which one it is until you see it and by then

it's already too late.

Tagged by: Nobody, just saw this going around and it looked neat so I did it. I'd never actually heard of this particular folklore creature, so it was fun to learn something new!

Tagging: You. Yes, you. You reading this right now.

[Quiz is here.]

#ffxiv #character quizzes #for anyone confused yes she is indeed a cat now #Kuni Muinvel

[pidgydraws]

executive dysfunction too powerful... someone please tell me what to draw... *cry*

no promises. just looking for a crumb of inspiration to feed the, nearly dead, rat of inspiration inside my brain... poor brain rat...

#pidgy doodles #this is a cry for help #drawing for fun has been nearly impossible lately #i need someone else to brain for me

[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.

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

[shokobuns]

“𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐨?”

your irritating step brother likes to come in your room during your zoom classes.

PAIRING: stepbro!gojo satoru x f!reader

GENRE(S): smut, quarantine!au (au? LMAO), college!au, taboo

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNING(S): darkish, smut, drug use (weed), high sex, stepcest, taboo, slight dubcon, slight manipulation, exhibitionism (if you squint), sensory deprivation (blindfold), degradation, size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), squirting, dacryphilia (if you squint)

(A/N): this rly do be my first time using proper capitalization huh, anyways all characters, SORRY I FORGOT TO ADD THE READ MORE I FIXED IT 

More.

One thing you easily learned about Satoru was the fact he wasn’t easy to satisfy. He’s demanding, cocky, all the while being nonchalant. He rarely exerts effort, but gets the desired results. He’s arrogant, but it’s nearly impossible to point out a flaw to counter it at all.

It makes your head hurt. It makes your teeth clench.

When you make eye contact, you make sure to stare back daggers. When you’re forced to talk to him, your voice stays monotone and expressionless. When you’re in a room with him for more than five minutes, your earbuds are already out, drowning out the sound of his voice. But it’s all difficult when you’re under the same roof.

Knock. Knock.

You roll your eyes at the sound of your step brother knocking your door, wondering what the hell he wants now. At this point, he’s probably just trying to annoy you, poke at your sides until he gets attention, any kind of attention, all just to satisfy his boredom.

Your calm demeanor and sharp tongue has always contrasted with Satoru’s teasing attitude. He’s always seemingly trying to provoke you, trying to pry apart the walls you’ve barricaded yourself in. His personality never rubbed you in the right way from the day your dad surprised you with a dinner with your new brother and your new mom. It didn’t matter anyways, you thought. You’d be going off to university soon enough.

The pandemic ran over all of your plans like a truck.

Better yet, your parents still had work without the option of staying home, leaving you and Satoru home alone for a little over eight hours a day. When he wasn’t in class or tutoring his juniors, he was knocking at your door, most likely red-eyed, though you can’t see it, and relaxed. Despite his persistence, you rarely let him in no matter how insistent he is in “getting to know his new lil sister.”

“Go away, Satoru.”

Behind the door, he pouts while you scribble down notes from the screenshared presentation. He comes in anyways, reeking of marijuana and cologne, half of his shirt buttons undone. You steal a small glance before once again glueing your eyes to your computer screen. The voice of your professor bores you, but you’re hyper aware of Satoru’s presence as he makes himself comfortable on your bed. “Get the fuck off! You stink!” You yell, turning off your camera before throwing a pencil right at him.

He catches it mid air with ease, relaxing his head on your pillows while fiddling with one of your many Sanrio plushies. “Can I have this?” he asks, holding one up as you contemplate its value in your head.

“If it gets you out of my room, then sure.” you reply in a monotone voice, turning back to your notes.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbles, rolling over to lay on his side with the plushie in his arms, “Is that organic chem?”

“Yeah, can you go now?”

“I’ll be quiet, princess. Don’t worry about me, just wanna know what my lil sis is up to.” He waits for a response, but is only rewarded with a huff.

It stays like that for the next ten minutes, him watching your professor’s lecture, you scrambling to write all of the information on the slides as he continues the fast paced lesson. You’re hyper focused on your class, putting in your effort to absorb the entirety of the content. In your mind, the only people in your room are your and your computer. “You know, you don’t have to understand everything all at once,”  a voice speaks up from behind you, causing you to purse your lips in annoyance, “It’s easier to learn when you’re actually paying attention to the lecture instead of focusing on trying to get everything down.

“We get it, Satoru. You have straight A’s and you’re naturally good at everything.”

“Hey, you’re getting advice from an aspiring teacher. Don’t need to use that tone with me, Princess.” He mumbles, rolling to his back on the bed, “Just tryna help you out in my free time.”

“I don’t need your help.”

He stays silent while you go back to drawing some of your basic compounds. Ethanol, methanol, propane, all of it. Your scribbles are messy and they progressively fill out the page in your notebook. You hear a tsk behind you, rolling your eyes as you prepare for another criticism from Satoru. Sure, he was probably right, but you refuse to feed into his ego. “Does he not link the slides to you guys or something?” he asks, this time with a friendlier tone.

“He does.” you reply, swiveling your chair until you’re facing him. He’s laying on his side again, his shirt spilling off his shoulder as your breath hitches at the sight. The blindfold is snug against his face, his hair pushed up. You’re sure that the stink of marijuana has rubbed onto your sheets and you make a mental note to wash them after class. “Then get high with me.”

“I’m in the middle of class, dumbass.”

“But you can always look at the slides later.” he suggests, “Plus, you’ve looked super stressed lately. Wonder why.”

Because of you, you want to say, but you stop yourself, opting to stay silent while pondering the offer. “Sure.”

He excitedly walks back to his room, returning to your bed seconds later with a joint between his fingertips. “This your first time?”

“Nah.”

“Ooooo,” he hums like a child, “That’s what you’re up to when we’re not around, huh?” he teases and you shake your head with a smile forming on your face.

“I guess.”

He shrugs, holding the joint up to your lips and lighting up the tip. You suck in the smoke into your lungs, holding it in, before exhaling out the screen door of your window. He takes a hit, opening his mouth and inhaling through his nose then passing it back to you. Your professor’s lecture fades into background noise as you fixate on Satoru, finally giving him the attention he’s been craving for weeks. He makes a mental note to offer you weed the next time he’s overcome by boredom.

The high hits you almost immediately. You’ve never had anything this strong and it’s liberating. You feel weightless, but your eyelids feel heavy. Your face is awfully warm and lifted and your vision gets more and more blurry by the second. The intoxication is pleasant, the present worries in your head being cut off as you focus on what’s right in front of you.

Satoru.

Satoru, your dear, irritating step brother who was kind enough to share the weed he stashes in his drawer. It’s getting harder and harder to hate him and you can’t reason why you felt so many negative emotions that you projected onto him at all. Sure, your room reeks and it’s all because of him, but the sight of him laying on your bed in a shirt that barely covers up his upper body makes your underwear feel uncomfortable. You don't know where it’s coming from, but shutting it out was easy when you’re sober. Key word: sober.

You stand from your desk, making your way to your bed and laying next to him. Both of you face each other, easily getting comfortable, warmth radiating off his body. It feels oddly intimate and your thighs press together in order to suppress the lustful feeling that takes over your body. Your arm comes around to the back of his head, tugging on the fabric that covers his eyes. “Can I take it off?”

“Sure.”

He lifts his head, allowing you to pull on the knot until it becomes undone. You don’t know what you were expecting, maybe a scar or something, but you’re in awe of the blue orbs that make you feel like you were staring into infinity. They’re bloodshot and half lidded and it’s when one fact you really didn’t want to accept hits you.

Satoru Gojo is one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen.

And he’s your step brother.

Uneasiness stirs in your lower tummy and you curse at whatever higher power that decided to give you this type of luck, but a hand on your hip trails to your back, pulling your closer and closer until your faces are at a dangerous distance. You can feel your cheeks becoming alarmingly hot and you hate that you can’t blame it on the weed. His hand comes up to your cheeks, his thumb stroking the soft skin. “Thought you wanted me to go away?”

“Changed my mind.” you whisper, eyes slowly closing, lips parting open as you wait for him to lean in and close the gap.

“Hmm? What’s this?” he sneers, causing your eyes to shoot open and your body to jolt up from your bed. The hazy feeling on your head still remains, making it hard to stand completely straight. “Get out.” you sternly demand, leaning back on your desk chair and pointing towards your door.

“Why should I? I don’t think you really want me to leave, babe.” He props his head on his hand, leaning his elbow onto your mattress.

“It’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong? We’re just two people hanging out on a bed. Unless you were trying to do something else, dirty girl.”

“I- I wasn’t! You’re my step brother!”

“Step brother.” He repeats, justifying your actions.

You’re shaking, guilt occupying your mind keeping you distracted. It’s the perfect time for Satoru to get comfortable in the space between your legs, pulling down your loose shorts and taking you by surprise. Before you have a chance to protest, his nose brushes against your sensitive core, making you let out a squeak. “W-We can’t do this!”

“Didn’t you want this?” he questions, looking up at you with wide eyes, “Wanted me to take care of this pretty little pussy, right?”

You know you should be refusing. You know you should be pushing him out your door. But it’s so hard when his pupils are dilated and the grip on the sides of your thighs feels so right. At this point, you’re not thinking, only nodding along to whatever he’s saying, anticipating his next actions.

“So wet.” He mumbles, pulling down the flimsy fabric and throwing it off somewhere in the room. He licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, sucking softly on the pearl while holding you down as the pleasure causes you to jolt upwards. He sucks and slurps like it’s his last meal, making your empty walls pulsate and little whines along with to leave your lips. Looking down, your eyes meet his, the lower half of his face immersed in your cunt.

The wet muscle fucks into you, curling and pressing against your walls, while his thumb rubs against your little clit. He hits all the right spots that make you squirm, pushing your legs wide open to see more of your ruined pussy. The wetness collects on his mouth, his chin, and his cheeks, filling him with a sick sense of satisfaction. “Such a whore, aren’t ya?” he pulls away to comment, but your fingers thread through his hair, pushing his head back where you need him most.

The action is assertive, something he usually hates dealing with. Though this time, he’s filled with a sick sense of pride at the fact that he was able to turn you, someone who seemed to hate him with a burning passion, into a moaning mess with just his mouth. He hums satisfactorily, sending vibrations into your sensitive core that make your thighs shaky.

You’re already cumming in an embarrassingly short time, gushing all over his face while he laps up all the juices you have to offer.

Before you can process anything else, his lips capture yours, lifting your body and dropping you onto your bed. You look at him with half lidded eyes, still sensitive from your last orgasm, while he pulls off his own clothes. His length rests on the inside of your thigh and he’s huge, so huge that it feels heavy against your skin and it scares you. “Satoru, I don’t think I can take you-”

“Shhh, princess,” he reassures you, “You started this. You have to take it.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, taking the fabric of his blindfold and covering your eyes, tying a tight knot on the back of your head. This isn’t right, a voice in your head tells you, but you ignore it because Satoru treats you so well. He keeps you company, gives you some of his weed, eats your pussy without you having to ask him.

The only thing you can see is black and you whine. You so badly want to see Satoru’s pretty face, his chiseled body, his thick cock, but your thoughts are interrupted by the fat tip prodding at your tiny hole. “Too big..” your voice trails off as your mind is lifted, only the feeling of him splitting you in half remaining. You’ve never felt so full and it feels so dirty, yet your slick says otherwise, betraying any rational part that still resides in your body.

“I got you, Princess, don’t worry.” He slurs, drunk on the sensation of your snug walls. The stretch strings, whimpers spilling from your lips, but his cock hits every spot like no other. By the time he’s fully inside of you, it feels like he’s actually in your guts and it’s all intensified by the isolated feeling, not being able to see him at all. Every bite on your shoulder, every kiss on your open mouth, every delicious drag on your gummy walls is amplified.

You’re already cumming around him, a ring of cream forming on his cock as he gazes down at your bare body, wrapping his lips around a sensitive nipple. You squeal, your breath hitching at the same time you clamp down around his throbbing length. “Already? Such a sensitive little princess, aren’t you?” He mutters in your ear, your nails digging into his shoulders, piercing the pale skin. Tears spill from your eyes, flowing down the sides of your face.

His teeth sink into your shoulder and you want to tell him to stop, but the words don’t quite leave your lips. Only babbling noises accompanied by the wet sounds of your cunt and skin slapping against skin. He’s still pounding into your cervix at a relentless pace, in awe of how your slick drips down his balls and onto the white sheets. 

Every time he hits that sweet spot, there’s an odd feeling that forms, like you’re about to make a mess. And when your next orgasm washes over you in intense waves of euphoria, a clear liquid spurts from your cunny, coating his lower stomach and your inner thighs. “Who knew my little princess was such a messy girl?” he taunts, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“S-shut up-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he leans in close, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “I’ll clean it all up.”

His smooth voice causes you to squeeze around him, almost like you don’t want him to ever leave your cunt, and it gets harder and harder for him to move. “Fuck, baby you’re so tight, need you to loosen up,” he mumbles, his own orgasm finally approaching, your little cunny milking him for all he’s worth. 

He’s rambling little praises, hot pleasure elevated by the high, his hips stuttering and his cock stuffing you to the brim with his warm seed. You both lay there, still intertwined and his body resting on top of yours.

“Ms. (L/N)! Did you have any questions about my lesson today?”

Your face drops in horror, your hand immediately pulling off the blindfold, as you push Satoru away from you and press the leave button on Zoom. A mix of your juices drop onto the floor and he chuckles, pulling you back to bed. “This isn’t over.”

He pins you back onto the mattress, his cock twitching at the sight of your leaking cunt, pulling your thighs until you’re close and pinning them to your chest. In one swift movement, his entire cock is shoved into your cunt, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass with every thrust, fucking his cum back into your womb.

Gojo Satoru would never be satisfied.

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #tw.weed #tw.manipulation #tw.dubcon #tw.degradation #tw.squirting #tw.creampie #tw.stepcest #tw.high sex #tw.exhibitionism #tw.oral #tw.size kink #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk fics #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw.sensory deprivation #tw.dacryphilia #🌟 — works!

[singlecelledthot]

Hi! If you're still taking requests, how about a part 2 to your Fujin fic? I'm more than a little obsessed with it!!

I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I was to get this request, Insufferable was just a little fluff piece I did to show people I could write, that you love it enough to want more just---makes a goblin feel loved 💕💕💕

Insufferable pt. 2

Piaring: Fujin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, romantic tension, kissing

Tags: @icy-spicy @subarublue @lilliannmac @weirdlittlecorner @bihansthot @dinogoofy @onesillybeach @the-colonialtemplars

“Would you like to take a moment to catch your breath?” You practically growled at Fujin as he shifted out of your grasp, sliding easily along the grass as if he were on ice. You clawed your fingers and spun quickly, aiming to hit him with the Fu Jow Pai you’d been practicing. It was perfectly suited for combat against the likes of Fujin, who specialized in being unpredictable for fun. The Wind God had invited himself to your personal training, much as he always did--you wouldn’t change this habit of his for the world but when he got involved the desire to plant a punch on his stupidly handsome face was nearly all consuming. You missed of course, as the god danced and spun around your harsh strikes, clearly amused at your mounting frustration.

As you darted for him, swiping your ‘claws’ like a madwoman, Fujin tucked his arms behind him and merely twisted and danced away from you, completely open to a strike but out of your reach. The difference in skill between the two of you was obvious, and he teased recklessly, his face still curled into a gentle grin that made your little heart thud faster. Why did he have to be so pretty? Why did he have to know it?

Insufferable.

You took a dive trying to get your strike to connect to his chest and pitched forward as you missed, your feet left you and your body tumbled towards the ground so quickly you only had time to close your eyes. Fujin was faster though, his hand struck out to wrap around the one you had led with, dragging you easily away from the ground and your trajectory until you were being held off the ground by your wrist. When the world stopped moving, you blinked open your eyes and twisted around to look at Fujin, who seemed rather confused. “H-hey, Fujin?” He blinked and looked up at you, clearly having been staring into the foreground between you instead of at you. "Hm?"

“You’re uuhh, Fujin you can put me down?” Suddenly, confusion morphed to smugness and you had three seconds to widen your eyes and try to squeal at him to stop before he grabbed your other hand and hoisted you up into the air by both of them. His feet still firmly planted on the ground while your own were several inches above it. It was moments like these that you were reminded of just how large gods were compared to people. Namely, Fujin being two feet taller than you, an already short person. “Fujin, stop! Don’t you dare!” You screamed as a gust of wind blew your robes upwards, your hair whipping around your face and it almost seemed like he was--no he wouldn’t dare!

“DON’T YOU TICKLE ME!”

It was too late, his game was up so he doubled down and sent small fingers of wind up under your clothes to your belly, ankles, neck--anywhere he knew to be ticklish. He didn’t think much about what he was doing other than that he loved to hear you laugh. These past months at the Sky Temple with you had been otherworldly. Fujin had never expected to find such comfort and joy in your company--even when you got quiet and he could feel a shift in the space between you both--you found companionship even in silence to be easy. It was downright disruptive when you both were together, you're sharp wit against his cunning, your fiery passion for knowledge and---hells he could still feel your hand on his chest from those months ago when you’d both gotten close over a talk about existentialism. Too close.

“Fujin?”

His laughter and smile had died down, leaving you breathless but confused as the wind that tickled your skin disappeared as well. He held you suspended by both your small hands in one of his, everytime you wiggled your hip or knee would bump his side. He had felt your breath on the shell of his ear as you squirmed particularl close, and now he stared at your flushed features with a sort of seriousness you did not know the Wind God to possess.

When you’d called his name he blinked back into the present, almost startled that his mind had drifted so far. You laughed, letting your head fall back between your arms to get a better look at him. “Fujin, you can put me down now. I promise not to retaliate.” His eyes soften but his smile did not return, instead when he set you on your feet he placed you impossibly close to him. Your hip settled between his thighs, and you could do nothing to hide the warmth in your cheeks, nor the stuttering whisper of his name as you peered up at the thoughtful trickster. His hand brought yours down to his chest, where he placed both your palms flat down over his heartbeat, you struggled to maintain eye contact and soon you found yourself staring at where he had your hands trapped. Anywhere but into that penetrating gaze.

Fujin hummed your name down to you to draw your attention back to him, and when you did you were so floored by the look of intense interest he wore, it was as if your entire body was pinned to that spot. Before you could duck your head down again to shy away, he released your hands to dart up and cup your chin gently between his fingers, his skin was slightly cool as it caressed yours. “I—“

“‘You are very warm.”

“Fujin, please I can’t….”

“You can’t, what? Tell me.” His voice was so gentle it nearly broke your heart. You swallowed to catch your breath, still hopelessly distracted by his solid body wrapped snugly against you. “We shouldn’t…can’t do this.” The smile returned for a second as he caught onto your game, too clever to miss how while it seemed you were trying to convince him, in truth you were trying to convince yourself. Everytime you thought of how the consequences for this shift between you would be too great, he would inhale deeply and you could feel his muscles move under your palms and he was—- he was just so lovely. Your eyes fluttered as his gaze became too much for you and you had to duck your head down to simply survive his proximity. His fingers wouldn’t let you, he tilted you back to look at him, only then did you notice him leaning in.

“Fujin, please-“ What were you even begging for? It wasn’t for him to stop, as warmth and trepidation and giddiness all welled inside you to create an ambient sense of pleasure that rocked through you like a storm. He pulled you close, eyes downcast to your mouth, his clear intention. “We shouldn’t....” His mouth connected with the corner of your own, soft and almost chaste if it weren’t for the way his body pressed into yours. “I know.” He laughed, closing the space between you without hesitation. Your heart soared as he pressed his mouth to yours, seeking to deepen the connection of your lips on his. You could have sobbed for all that, that simple kiss held within it. He knew of your concerns, they mirrored his own and yet for you he could not deny himself. Nor you.

Fujin let go of your other hand to wrap both broad arms around your shoulders and press you up into him. He was calm, but insistent as he kissed your breath away, never pressing too hard for you to let him in but greedily allowing you to take your own pleasure from his tongue. His moment of boldness spurned on your own burgeoning desires and your passion washed over him like wildfire. You were raw heat, melting into his arms and fitting so perfectly against his body, he could not let you convince him to not pursue this, when your vigor for him erupted with the littlest provocation. Your hands had even found their way into his hair, where you tangled your fingers into it and pulled the strands out of place in your haste to kiss him.

The want for him was telling, he could feel your soul ache for his touch. As it had all those months ago when he’d caught you by the elbow. Fujin knew that things were spiraling and the perhaps he had better—

“Lord Fujin!”

The bounding voice of Bo Rai Cho pinged off of the cobblestones and flattened walking paths that led to the two of you. You both detached quickly, luckily there was a bend in the path and Bo Rai Cho had rounded it just as you had disconnected. The loss of Fujin made your heart ache, his own tense expression spoke of his desire to simply pull you to him again. But he turned instead to greet his friend, knowing he’d had best push through this burning desire for you if he wanted Bo Rai Cho to remain oblivious.

“Lord Raiden is summoning all of us to the inner sanctum, he has had another vision—Lord Fujin?” The god in question had turned around to look over his shoulder only to find you gone. Loneliness swept through him and he nearly exclaimed from the deep gutted need for you to be in his arms again. Instead he apologized to his friend and asked to be led to where Raiden was gathering the others. He would find you after this, he needed to. It was impossible now for him to stay away.

#requests #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #fujin x reader #fujin #mortal kombat #sfw

[dear-yandere]

delirium.

yandere! zhongli, childe, xiao, scaramouche x gn! reader.

not sfw (18+) scenarios, liyue + fatui edition.

tw: dubcon + alcohol (xiao), noncon (childe, scaramouche), blood (childe), implied physical abuse + exhibitionism (scaramouche).

disclaimer: this is not a healthy relationship (apart from zhongli’s...maybe).

art belongs to ぐみ, kaskia, and kureiiro.

zhongli

he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

your lips are someplace they shouldn’t be and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. his fingers—fingers that have conquered humans and gods alike—sit awkwardly on your hips, twitching with embarrassment and pleasure for each kiss you lay upon his neck. he’s warm there, just how you like it, and you waste no time laying hotter, wetter kisses along the apex of his jawline.

“t...” he catches himself before he can stutter like a fool. “this is inappropriate, my beloved.” he clears his throat, and you’re quick to silence him with another kiss.

“this is what you wanted.” you playfully remind, not once missing the pink blush on his cheeks. 6,000 years old, and he has never done this with someone he loves; you suppose you should take that as a compliment, but really, you’re just excited by the thrill of dominating a god in bed. 

“i suppose you’re correct, but this still doesn’t feel...” he starts, but his eyes get caught on the way your legs are straddling his hips;  he draws a sharp breath, an embarrassment washing over him.

you laugh, and it’s like music to his ears. “this is what lovers do, zhongli. that’s what we are, isn’t it?” you tilt your head, your smile coy. “it says so right in the contract.”

ah. he can’t argue with that, so he shuts up.

you giggle in triumph and continue your ministrations, paying his awkward touches and clumsy kisses no mind. it’s cute, the way he’s trying so desperately to restrain himself; you sort of want to see him... snap.

the lower your kisses get, the more he questions why he’d ever want you to stop. and he reminds himself that you’re right, that your lips belong there. they belong on him... just like lovers do. then... as it stands, letting you straddle him to the futon is fulfilling no such obligation. as your loving husband, it’s his duty to see to it that you’re well taken care of.

it’s in the contract, after all.

you’re on your back before your lips can reconnect with his skin. 

“allow me.“

tartaglia + fatui! darling

"does my little mouse want to cum?”

childe pushes his hair back to get a better look at your pitiful state. you’re standing on your knees, battered and blooded from the fight he’d forced you into, and your cheeks are stained with tears and dirt. his gaze locks onto your face, analyzing your reaction to the cock stuffed down your throat—and the dagger pressed against your jugular. 

your whimpers died down a while ago. must’ve realized you lost this battle in its entirety.

“you were so full of yourself earlier.” childe jeers, enjoying the way you squirm with humiliation at the thought. you’ve always been aware that the difference in skill between you and him was far too great to warrant anything close to a win in battle, but the situation you’re in now does nothing but add insult to injury.

just how he likes it.

“now that i have a fistful of your hair and i’ve brought you to your knees, you have nothing to say.” his laughter bounces from the walls without a care for who hears. “for all that strength you tout, you can’t even handle this?” he tugs your head back, admiring the way your bloodied face contorts with pain when a few strands of hair come with it. “how pathetic.”

you’re tempted to bring your teeth down onto his—

“bite and i’ll cut your tongue off.” he smiles. you’re not safe even in your own thoughts. “if you’re good, i’ll even help patch those wounds up for you. doubt you can reach most of them by yourself.” he chuckles, and you recall that he deliberately aimed at places you can’t reach. your back is covered with a litany of fresh wounds and blood, and your arm have so many small wounds it’d be impossible to reach your back on your own.

bastard.

your lips instinctively squeeze around his dick; to your displeasure, he moans, and a laugh soon follows. “careful, sugar. don't squeeze so hard my cock slips out.” he hums and bucks into your mouth. you nearly gag when he hits the back of your throat.

“we’ve hardly started.”

xiao

“oi, take responsibility.”

your eyes are shameful when they avert to the side, your skin dusted with hot embarrassment and arousal. the sight before you was one you could’ve imagined only in your wildest dreams —the esteemed adepti xiao’s legs spread around either of your ears, his eyes blurry with excitement and sake. his pale skin is red with the effects of liquor and arousal, and his lips are twisted into a lopsided smile; it looks like it’s taking all of his facial muscles to keep the expression intact.

he’s not in his right mind, but you know better than to disobey his orders. xiao is a patient man lest you cross him; and, despite his keen affections for you, you’re no more exempt from those rules than the archons themselves.

so you purse your lips and nod; he seems pleased at that. 

you hear him draw a sharp, excited breath when your fingers venture to the belt keeping his pants up; on his exhale, he can hardly contain his delight when the fabric around his waist loosens and slides down his thighs. atop his warm skin, your fingers twitch with fear and elation.

even in his drunken state, he senses your hesitation. you nearly yelp when his hand shoots out and grabs hold of yours, but his grip is nothing short of gentle. they hold yours as if you are something to be treasured; despite all he’s threatened to do to you when he’s in a fit of rage, you can’t help but feel more at ease.

you let him take your hand.

his hands are flushed and shaky as they guide yours to the tip of his cock. you draw a shaky breath, the feel of his skin foreign. this will be your first time with him; you remind yourself that you shouldn’t be doing this. he’s drunk, he’s not in his right mind. but if you don’t, he’ll...

he cuts your train of thought with a sharp tug of your chin, pulling your head closer to his throbbing member. he doesn’t have to speak for you to understand what he wants.

“suck.”

if you don’t, there’s far worse in store.

scaramouche

“aw, are you going to cry? beg me to stop?”

you hurriedly shake your head.

“go on then. tell me what’s the matter, pet.” he nudges your bruised cheek with his knee; the skin there still stings from his earlier assault. you’ve learned since then—to be a good pet, to listen to him when he speaks, to do as he says without question nor hesitation. “have you gone mute already?” he sighs and rests his head against his knuckles. “that’d be no fun...”

you just want him to let you go.

you shake your head once more, uttering a small ‘no’ to sate his admonishments. you’ve learned not to speak unless spoken to. you’re better off that way.

“you were running your mouth earlier. where did all that bravado go, i wonder?” scaramouche’s lips twitch into a cruel smile. looking at you now, no one would ever think you were talking back to him only minutes ago. poor little thing, you had to be put in your place. you’re curled onto your knees now, shaking like a newborn pup, and he likes you better that way.

you deserve a reward.

he offers a pitying caress against your raw cheek; his skin is frigid to the touch, and you lean into it more so to relieve the hot ache of your bruise than because you’ve been instructed to do so. he accepts your subservience all the same, so long as you’re subservient to him.

“strip.” 

he barks another order and your body immediately goes stiff. normally, you would have shot up and done exactly as he wished, but you didn’t. not this time, not with the prying eyes of his envoy watching your humiliation in full display. you didn’t want it to come to this, to be disrobed and ridiculed before anyone other than him. if you were alone... it was just him, you could’ve lived with the shame, because no one would know but him. 

and he knows that.

when you don’t move fast enough to his liking, he kicks into your stomach—light enough that there won’t be bruises. you’ve been so wonderful lately; it’d be a shame if you ended your good streak now.

 “my precious, stupid little pet. you’ll do well to remember that when i say something, you do it. quickly.” his tone is final. 

“else i’ll have my men strip you themselves.”

dear-yandere, all rights reserved.

#yandere zhongli x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere zhongli #yandere tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere xiao #yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #*scenarios #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw alcohol #tw blood #tw not sfw #tw abuse #tw physical abuse

[ptergwen]

only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

-

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine

[imagineimpact]

Could I please request a one shot for scaramouche where the reader and childe are best friends, and the reader is dating scara. But none of them have any idea that they know each other. And the reader decides ‘hey i’m going to make the two closest people to me meet each other’ and once they show up they’re standing there like🧍 ‘so THIS is the idiot you call your best friend??’ And childe sees this as the perfect opportunity to tease scara more cause damn he actually cares for someone?? Tyyyy

I've had this written for 2 weeks or so and I forgot to post it, I am so sorry for being such a moron.

But here you go! I love the dynamic of Childe and Scara being annoyed at each other all the time but still being, you know, obliged by each other's company.

Anyway...

You've Got to be Kidding Me

Scaramouche x Reader (ft. Childe as the Best Friend)

You were laying in bed beside Scaramouche, a late night together behind you. You silently watch him resting, his face seeming so serene in the covered light of the morning hours together. You have plans for the day so you would have to be up soon, but you had hoped that he would be awake before you left.

As you gently touch his cheek, he stirs toward you in a pleasant instinct that makes you feel warm and puts an equally pleasant smile on your face. His eyelids open slowly, with a few blinks as his eyes adjust his sights to you.

“Good morning.” You say quietly, not wanting to startle him too much.

“Mmm.” He pulls you closer to him, drawing you near for a kiss. “This is a nice surprise.” He wraps his arms around you.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you had to leave early.” He ran a hand through your hair. “To meet with your friend.”

You kissed him again. “I do have to. I just wanted to see you before I left to meet him.”

“Him, right.” He spoke as if only just remembering.

“I should bring you to meet him some day.” You say mindlessly, kissing his cheek again as you move away from him to get ready.

“Perhaps.” He watches you leave the bed, eyes wandering over you as you search for clothing to wear.

“You’re both very important to me.” Your hands reach for nice but informal clothing, perfect for the occasion.

“Well, if that’s what you wish, then I can meet him.” Scaramouche sits up, leaning against the headboard with a stretch. You begin to dress as he talks. “Of course, I cannot guarantee that he’ll make it out alive if I see him trying to-“

“He isn’t like that.” You dismiss simply with a chuckle. You look over at him through the dresser mirror, knowing fully well that he’s serious. “But anyway, don’t you have Harbinger things to do today?”

“I’m on assignment, yes.” He gets up from the bed and takes hold of your hand, spinning you to face him. “But I can see you to your destination, maybe so that I can meet this best friend of yours.”

“You would do that?” Your eyes wander through his, seeking that softness locked deep inside. He brings it out in his smile.

“For you, anything.” He kisses you again, lightly, before also getting dressed.

~*~*~

It doesn't take you too long to arrive at the location, a nice spot outside of the tea house where you met your best friend every time, but you were still a little bit late on account of your boyfriend also needing to get ready. Scaramouche dotingly keeps to your side, insisting that he was sure that your friend would be fine if you were just a little late. He carries his hat with him, holding it in the hand that wasn’t around your waist or holding your hand at various points during your travels.

Near the location, you step away from your boyfriend to search for your expected company. “There!” You nearly jump up with sheer happiness when you spot the tall redheaded Snezhnayan across a short distance. You nealy send Scaramouche flying when you grab his hand and hurry toward him. Scaramouche has to slow you down in fear of drawing too much attention to you both, and as you move through the crowd, you finally reached him.

“Childe!” You excitedly tug on his sleeve to pull his attention away from his far-off staring. “It’s so nice to finally see you!” Scaramouche tenses up beside you, stiffly pulling you to him again.

“Ah, hey there comrade!” He turns to smile at you, but then his eyes flick up to your company.

“I brought my boyfriend along to meet you, I hope you don’t mind too much.” You give him a soft smile, eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and fear that the two people you love most will despise each other.

Childe’s eyes flicker between you and Scaramouche, and you stand to the side watching the two silently stare at each other. Neither say anything for an unnerving amount of time.

Your mind begins to race with a myriad of questions. Did you do something wrong? To the both of them, your expression must have the clearest look of confusion and worry that has ever existed.

Then, Scaramouche takes a sharp breath, and speaks, eyes not shifting even slightly away from Tartaglia. “So this is the idiot you call your best friend?”

“Idiot?!” Childe laughs placing a hand on his hip and bowing his head slightly to stare down at the shorter male. “I think even you have to give me more than that-“

“Absolutely not.” Scaramouche’s eyes narrow. Childe, on the other hand, simply turns to you and, smiling far too much, places a hand on your head. You nearly chuckle, but the confusion setting in makes the sound choke into a puzzled smile.

“You two... know each other?” Your question barely has time to linger in the air.

“We... work together.” Scaramouche explains, wrapping a hand around your waist to keep you beside him, eyes locked on Childe. A silent signal to him.

“Oh. That... actually makes sense.” You peer over at your best friend, who has a playful smirk spreading across his face.

“You know how much I don’t like to talk about such business.” His eyes flicker away from you. “I didn’t know you were such a softie, Scara.” Childe raises a teasing eyebrow, leaning down slightly. The intensity of Scaramouche’s glare didn’t seem to match the playfulness that Childe held. “And here I thought you had no heart.”

“Don’t call me softie.” His arm around you tightens. “I have the mind to kill you right here.” Childe simply laughs, placing a hand on Scaramouche’s shoulder. He tenses even more, impossibly so. “Get your hand off me Ajax.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up in defeat, still chuckling to himself. “Look at you, caring about someone so dearly. That looks like a tight hold there.”

Scaramouche loosens his grip on you, letting you slip away from him as he steps up to Childe. “Don’t try anything, or I swear to-“

“Don’t worry, you can trust me.” Childe tilts his head, leaning down to meet his eyes. “We’ve been friends for a long time. And besides, I’d never try to take away something so absolutely dear to you. It gives me far too much to tease you about.”

“Ajax you-“

“Woah, hey.” You gently push them apart, and they bend to your will as if neither possesses the strength to resist such a movement (which they so obviously could). Their gazes both soften.

Scaramouche turns back to look at you, that tension leaving his body completely when you reach out and take his hand. “Come on, how about we all get something to eat? You say, giving him a soft smile. He can’t help but do the same.

“Alright.” He lets you kiss his cheek, a small reassurance that everything’s alright.

Childe circles around, examining Scaramouche’s expression before giggles bubble out of him. “Oh, you two are adorable.”

“I better not hear a word about this again, Ajax.” Your boyfriend tries to assert, but the pink of his cheeks and the embarrassed tone he has makes the threat dissipate in the wind. Childe leans an arm on his shoulder, prompting the harshest glare you’ve ever seen from your dearest.

“Hey, come on.” You hold in a giggle, but as you lift a hand to cover your mouth the sounds escape you.

“Oh, not you too.” Scaramouche huffs, face reddening.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so adorable.” You squeak back the giggles,

“Aw, maybe he is just so adorable.” Your best friend teases, ruffling Scaramouche’s hair.

He calls your name, very softly. Suddenly quiet. “Did you really have to chose this utter moron to be your best friend?”

“You can’t choose your best friends.” You shrug, grabbing both of their wrists and pulling them apart. “Just like you can’t choose who you love.”

“But him?” They say simultaneously. You look to both of them, chuckling.

“Of course.” You shake your head. “And of course.” The laugh you let out is met with a collective sigh from them both, but you nonetheless start walking away, leaving the bickering two to trail along with you.

This day was going to be fun.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact imagines #imagines #Scaramouche #Scaramouche x reader #Scaramouche Genshin #Childe x reader #Tartaglia #Childe #genshin impact requests #requests #imagineimpact

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

@witchygagirl requested: Hmm how about a miscommunication between Rick and Dee. Feelings are developing but Rick has the dilemma who's that guy dee was talking to? Did he send her flowers? So he backs off so Dee thinks she did something wrong

If I Go Universe - Miscommunication (Rick Flag x OC)

Summary: Rick really likes Delphia - like really really likes her. But he has a history of moving relationships too far too quickly, and he doesn't want to mess things up with her. So he takes things slow. But maybe it is too slow for her liking.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 2903

Warnings: language, a pinch of angst, miscommunication to the max obvs, suggestive language, rick flag being a huge softy

Timeline: October 2016

if i go masterlist

The pastry sat in his front seat. Rick couldn’t stop looking over at it as he drove to work. He really hoped he ordered the right one — the pastry Delphia had mentioned she liked from the bakery near her apartment. He had driven nearly twenty minutes out of the way and spent nearly that same amount of time staring worriedly at the pastry case trying to decide. He got a raspberry filled one hoping that it was right.

The past few weeks with Delphia had been amazing. Rick had never laughed so much in his entire life or felt so light. She somehow made everything better — brighter. He remembered thinking, when he talked to her the first few times, that he thought she was disillusioned with the world and its cruelty. But now he knew that she saw all that cruelty, took it all in stride and decided to turn it into kindness. Which was a strength in and of itself that he had never been able to master.

And she somehow saw the good in him. Brought it to the surface and left all the terrible things behind with each smile she shone his way and every touch she passed upon his skin. Sometimes it felt like drawing poison from a wound. Sometimes he felt undeserving and ashamed — convinced he would only corrupt her and take away her good. But that was impossible. Delphia Holman was too good for this world and she was too good for Rick Flag.

So maybe that was why he was taking things so slow with her. That, and a combination of Rick’s history of taking relationships too fast too quickly. Always blurting out I love yous at inappropriate times or wanting to move in after only a month of dating. He could count on two hands how many times he had scared someone off just because he was a big guy with big feelings. And he really didn’t want to mess things up with Delphia. He had a feeling, deep in his gut, that she was it. And if he scared her off now he wasn’t sure if he would be able to forgive himself. So after that first night, that wonderful first night, Rick decided to backtrack and slow things down for the time being.

They texted all the time, talked to each other in the halls when they saw each other. She brought him coffee a few mornings, just how he liked it. Whenever she brought over paperwork from Waller, she lingered at his desk for longer than was really necessary, not that he complained. But the other commanding officers were definitely starting to take notice and make fun of him for it.

Rick sighed as he parked his Jeep and cut the engine. Sparing one last glance at the pastry in the paper bag before he picked it up and began his walk inside. It was an offering of sorts. A way to ease her into him asking her out again. He had wanted to do it when they got back to his apartment from that diner. But he had restrained himself for long enough and now was a good time. There were no missions for the foreseeable future, unless some catastrophe happened, and from the hints that Delphia had been dropping, her work with Waller had been lessening as of late. Meaning they both had plenty of time.

Confidence filled him as he walked down the hall towards her office, which was honestly his first mistake. Because as soon as he heard that familiar laughter coming through her open door, harmonized by the deeper chuckle of a man, he felt it all seep out of him. He was overgrown with the weeds of fear and jealousy in an instant as he approached the doorway.

But he didn’t even make it past the threshold, let alone inside her office. Because there Delphia sat, laughing and chatting with Gordon of all people who sat perched on the edge of her desk. She was giggling so hard her head was thrown back, eyes screwed shut. Gordon was sitting there chuckling too, arms crossed as he leaned in close to her. Her hand reached out to touch Gordon’s thigh — to stabilize herself — and Rick felt a heat flare up in his chest.

Without even taking a second to think, to rationalize, Rick performed an about face and marched to his office. Pastry bag gripped so tight in his hand he could feel the paper ripping.

He opened his office door with a hard yank, the metal knob nearly banging against the wall as he walked over to his desk. Throwing down the pastry on the top of his desk, Rick settled into his office chair with a huff. Hands pulling over his face as he practically kicked himself.

He shouldn’t have taken things so slow with her. She had moved on, forgotten him. Gordon was funny and handsome to some degree, or at least she seemed to think so with the way she was giggling and touching him. God, he felt so stupid. Putting his heart out on his sleeve and letting her admire it — letting her take it from him without even a care. Shit. Fuck.

“Didn’t take you for a pastry kinda guy, Flag,” another commanding officer commented with a grin.

Rick shot him a glare. “Shut up, Vaughn.”

Delphia texted him that night, asking how his day went and saying that she wished she could’ve seen him today. As Rick ate his dinner angrily, he stared at that text.

He had never been one to make assumptions before. He was a man of facts and hard evidence. But when it came to stuff of the heart — he was a fool. His mind couldn’t get away from her and Gordon together. How happy she looked and how flirtatious. It ate up at his insides and forced him to push his half-finished dinner away. She looked way happier with Gordon than she ever did with him. He had been such an idiot to think that she was the one — that she was it for him. Or maybe he had just waited too long and this was all his fault. It certainly felt like his fault that he had let her get away from him. This amazing, wonderful, kind, generous woman. She would make Gordon happy. And he would just have to watch as Gordon got to live the life he wanted.

So he flipped his phone screen down and ignored her text message completely.

And the message after that, and the message after that, and the message after that.

Part of him felt guilty for leaving her hanging like that — like he was still in high school. But the other part of him was too angry with himself and too jealous to say anything that would be remotely courteous. Everything he felt was too big for words and way too big to see Delphia in person.

So he also avoided her at work. Turned down different hallways when he spotted her coming when before the simple sight of her made him smile from ear to ear. Sent Vaughn to deliver paperwork to her desk when before he would’ve hand delivered everyones if he could. It was eating him up inside but it was also saving him from further heartbreak. He didn’t want to stop her from enjoying her life, no matter how much it hurt.

On and on for a week it went, until one day Rick was the only commanding officer left in the office and there was a giant stack of paperwork that needed to be delivered to Waller. To Delphia.

He stared at the files for a long time. Hoping by maybe some miracle they would teleport themselves down the hall. But sadly, after several minutes of glowering, the stack of papers did not move. Rick groaned as he picked up the files and marched out of his office. He really hoped that she was out, maybe even in a meeting with Waller and he wouldn’t have to see her.

Delphia’s office door was open, as it always was. But Rick still felt the need to peek around the doorframe first before stepping inside. The chair behind her desk was empty and he nearly sighed in relief. Then there was a sharp pain in his chest — like he was being jabbed with a hot poker.

There was a vase full of flowers on her desk. Beautiful carnations and lilies. Rick didn’t have to find a note to know exactly who they were from. Every muscle in his body felt pulled taut as he walked across the room and laid the files down on her desk.

God, he was such an idiot for thinking that that night meant anything. For thinking the two of them could actually be together.

He stared down at the flowers with a tight lip, frozen to the spot by his self-directed anger and jealousy. Then he heard Waller’s office door creak open and he looked over to see none other than Delphia standing there.

She looked beautiful. A billowing white button up blouse paired with tan pants and nude heels — fire red hair straightened and pushed behind her ears. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he missed her over the past week. And just how embarrassed he was to be caught standing at her desk like an idiot. He briefly caught her wide blue eyes with his and then he practically bolted from the room. Shame and guit chasing after him like the very hands of death.

As he walked down the hallway back to his office, he heard heels clicking against the tile and he nearly picked up the pace — lengthened his strides. He knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with him but he didn’t want her to know he was running away from her either. Rick glanced over his shoulder, just to check it was actually her, and he was right. Delphia was following a few feet behind him, her brow pinched in what could only be frustration and lips pulled between her teeth.

Fuck.

“Colonel Flag?” she called out to him, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Rick slowly came to a halt. He really didn’t want to talk to her — didn’t want to admit to everything he had been feeling. Or worse, talk like they were just coworkers again, like he hadn’t mapped out every inch of her with his lips or heard the way she sounded when she was in her greatest moment of euphoria. Like he didn’t love her already.

So he turned with his hands on his hips and kept his eyes trained on the crack in the tile as he muttered, “Yeah?”

“Uh — “ Delphia coughed and tried again. “Did I — Did I do something wrong?”

The quietness of her voice surprised him — the earnestness. He glanced over at her and his knees nearly buckled. There were tears shining in those big blue eyes that searched him like she could read him like a book. Her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles had gone white. Her lip trembled as she held in her tears. But still, her question confused him.

“What?” he asked quietly.

“Did I do something wrong?” she repeated, “Did I overstep somewhere? Was it when we talked about your ex, June?”

Rick looked up and down the hallway. He didn’t like that this was happening here. Anyone could walk in on them and see what was happening. Without a word he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her into the janitor’s closet behind them. And Delphia didn’t protest, she let him lead her until the closet door was shut and the light above had been clicked on.

Swallowing thickly, he found he still couldn’t quite look at her — fear gnawing at the back of his brain like he was the one to have done something wrong here. Maybe he was starting to think that he was.

“You — You didn’t do anythin’ wrong,” he struggled to say.

He looked up at her through his eyelashes, unable to look at her straight in the face for some reason, and he saw her eyes flash.

“Then why the hell’ve you been ignoring me?”

Rick shrugged defiantly, finding his excuse now to be childish. “Cause — Cause you and Gordon.”

His excuse sat heavy between them like a dead body. Delphia refused to tear her gaze away from him, her face pinched in a way he had never seen before — furious and confused all at once. While Rick could barely look at her.

“What do you mean me and Gordon? He’s just some guy!” she said, her face contorting in confusion even further.

“You guys were talkin’ the other day — gigglin’ n’shit in your office! I saw it with my own eyes!”

She stared off at the empty space by his head for a moment, then lifted her hands to her forehead and shouted quietly, “He was asking me to watch his cat while he went on mission!”

Rick’s shoulders dropped. His face blanched, a wicked heat licking at his neck and cheeks as he awkwardly readjusted the grip he had on his hips. But there was still something that wasn’t explained.

“What about the flowers?” he asked quietly, almost like he knew he was already defeated.

“The — The flowers in my office right now?” she questioned back, glancing towards the door for further effect, “They’re from my mom — celebrating my three year anniversary in Louisiana.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

It felt like his entire body was on fire with embarrassment now. Since when did this closet feel so humid? Since when did that look on her face feel so furious and so...disappointed? Part of him wanted to run and hide. Wait for the storm to blow over and pull himself out of his hole when he felt less shameful. But the other part of him, and the part that won out, wanted to fix this with her. Wanted to make things right.

“Dee, I’m — “ he started.

But she launched herself across the small space between them and knocked him back into the built-in shelving. Her strength surprised him and turned him on only slightly. And then she kissed him furiously, strong enough to leave bruises. She fisted his quarter zip in her hands and pulled him down to meet her.

“I wanna punch — “ Another kiss. “ — you but — “ Another kiss. “ — I’m kissing you — “ Another kiss. “Instead!”

The last press of her lips softened only slightly, turned to molten love against his mouth as she passed her tongue along his bottom lip. They were both panting by the time she pulled away completely, Rick chasing her lips subconsciously but she leaned further back with a smirk.

“Didn’t know you needed so much reassurance we were exclusive, Flag,” she whispered, her hand sliding up to gently curl around his throat.

“I — shit — I’m sorry,” he screwed his eyes shut against the guilt and the shame, “I just…I really didn’t want to mess things up with you. Then I saw ya with Gordon and I just…fuck, I don’t know.

“I’ve prolly already messed this up — you and me.”

Delphia’s expression softened slightly as she smoothed her thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I admitted I liked you like some teenage girl behind the bleachers at a football game. What made you think I’d try and go for someone else?”

“I don’t know….” he muttered with his eyes shut.

But he did know. He had spent the past week convincing himself that he wasn’t good enough for her. That maybe she had just been caught up in the moment and that was why she said all those things. His life was too dangerous, he wouldn’t be able to settle down, he was too hard in all the places she wanted something soft, he had too much baggage for her to handle. He would be too much and never enough for someone like her and it was better if they just didn’t get together at all.

Her lips, so soft and sweet, were pressed to his once more. But they weren’t violent and bruising — they were gentle and caring in their caress as she pried his mouth open and slipped her tongue inside. One of those kisses that seared itself on his soul and made an ache form in his very heart.

“Dinner — tonight?” she whispered against the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t deserve it. Not after what he did, so he opened his mouth to painfully say no — but she stopped him with another kiss.

“You didn’t mess things up — you didn’t. Just lets me know I gotta….reassure you every once and a while.” With one hand still on his throat, the other slid down his front, ghosted over the edge of his tacpants. “I’m all yours, Rick. Me and you. Pick me up at seven?”

Her hand had slipped inside his pants and all he could do was nod frantically in reply.

“Good.” Her grin was nearly wicked. “Now let me remind you who it is I wanna be with.”

Taglist (if you would like to be tagged in future installments, just let me know!): @bbygrgu @a-reader-and-a-writer @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16 @runic-belova @weallhaveadestiny @oopsiedoopsie23 @nerdgrrlramblings @ocfairygodmother @reysorigins @hawsx3

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