#i miss feeling okay in dresses i feel like im not pretty or feminine looking enough for them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sombreboy · 3 years

Text

Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I doing well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just to be his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would've made sure of it."

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

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wagner-fell · 3 years

Text

Mari kicked down the dressing room door with a bang so loud Kevin jumped and spilled his hot coffee cup all over himself. Hearing his yelps of pain, Astrid peaked her head out of the curtain, laughed at his expense then shut it again. Maria ignored that.

They strutted out to where the boys were sitting and struck a pose. “Can I rock cottage core or can I rock cottage core?”

Kit didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply nodded instead. While the baby blue dress with short, ruffled sleeves looked a bit out of place paired with Mari’s bulging muscles, she looked absolutely stunning.

The Merry Hoes were located in the back room of the antique store Kevin’s family owned. The Chu’s just got a large donation of vintage clothing. Mari had just gotten their pay check from the downworlder gym she worked at. Kit and Astrid really didn’t want to do their maths homework. It was destiny.

Despite being downworlders both Blessica and Kevin still lived at home. Mari, though, lived with the rest of their pack in an old Edwardian mansion a few blocks away from school. However the five of them slept over at each other’s place of residence so often they blurred together in the young Herondale’s mind. He could really only tell them apart by their smells.

Mari’s reeked of dirty laundry as they were one of four folks on the feminine side of the gender scale out of the lycanthropy of London, Blessica excluded. Her house smelled like Ube, a type of yam her Filipino parents put in everything. Kit couldn’t complain. Ube flavoured ice cream was the best thing he’s ever eaten. Aside from Mari. Though he wasn’t usually the one… Nevermind.

Kevin’s house smelled of Longjing tea and red wine. A peculiar combination that oddly enough, worked quite well.

Astrid had two homes as her parents divorced at the age of six. Stepping into her mom’s house was like stepping into a cookie factory. Which made sense as her mom owned a bakery and lived above it. Kit didn’t know exactly what Astrid’s dad’s place smelled like, let alone looked like, but he could make an educated guess that it was similar to the Los Angeles Institute because it was in LA too.

After they separated, Miss Yang fled to Devon to dodge the possibility of seeing her ex-husband when they exchanged Astrid. Kit related to her on a deep, personal level.

Now Astrid spent her summers in America and Kit drained his battery on international phone calls.

Her three months in the USA each year helped him bond with her better when they had first been introduced. For example, her ringtone was the Perry the Platypus theme song. Blessica, Kevin and Maria had no clue what it was but when the music reached Kit’s ears, the two sang an epic duet that put Kiss Me More (the second most iconic duet in history) to shame.

“How much is this anyway,” asked Mari, turning in a circle to see if there was a price tag. In the process she sent the fabric fluttering as she went. It made them look more magical than ever.

“There is no price on fabulousness,” said Astrid. She had on loose, black dress pants, a white shirt, and black suspenders with gold blemishes.

“Yes there is,” replied Kevin. “54 euros.”

“54 euros,” exclaimed Mari.

“Well it would have been €34 but you made me spill my coffee and this shirt was 20 so..”

“Seriously, Kev. I will fuck your mom. You think I won’t?” A pause. “Wait, only twenty €20?”

“Oh, I know right! There is this incredible thrift store down on Fleet Street and-”

“Don’t care,” interrupted Mar. She took one last look in the mirror before turning back to him. “I’ll give you your parents' price, not your dramatic ass’s one.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Fine. But it’s an extra €10 for the shoes.”

Mari looked down at her tan sandals. They leaned against the door they just excited to take the footwear off. “Racist,” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m literally Chinese.”

“Homophobic, then.”

“Pansexaul,” he sang.

Mari was silent for a moment before she banged on the door into the room Blessica was changing into her rose pink gown. “Blessie! Do I have permission to call Kev transphobic in your name?”

“Hey,” said Kevin, looking up from his task of rubbing a paper towel across his sheer, white shirt. “That’s cheating. Blessie, don’t listen to them!”

The nickname ‘Blessie’ was what her family exclusively called her. She turned red when they had first found out. Granted, it wasn’t hard to make Blessica blush. All she had to do was stand in Kevin’s general area.

“Blessica,” called Mari once again. When she still didn’t answer, Maria stood up and pressed their forehead against the changing room door. “You okay?”

“No,” Blessica croaked out finally. Her hoarse voice was laced with sorrow. Upon hearing her speak, Kevin abandoned any hope of saving his top and joined Mari at the door. Kit and Astrid were quick to follow.

“Hey,” said Astrid gently. “What’s wrong?”

Blessica began to sob. “The dress doesn’t fit right,” she whimpered.

“That’s okay,” soothed Kevin. “We have other sizes.”

“Kev, it doesn’t fit my body because it wasn’t made for my body. I just feel so ugly.” All the other Merry Hoes made various sounds of distress. Kit was instantly reminded of Dru,

He was suddenly fifteen again. In Ty’s bedroom as he told him of all the times she’d been told she wasn’t pretty by members of the Shadowhunter society. And all the times Emma or Julian or another member of her family had reassured her that she was. The thought occurred to Kit that maybe they weren’t Emma-y as Blessica needed them to be.

“It’s just like,” started Blessica, “I started taking Estrogen seven months ago, you know? And I still don’t have anything to show for it.”

His mind was racing a mile a minute. “Yes you do,” he said.

“I do?” she asked, sounding dubious.

“Your voice!”

“You do have a really nice voice,” agreed Astrid. “You could totally narrate audiobooks or something.”

“No it’s not,” grumbled Kevin.

“Kevin,” said Mari, glaring daggers at him. ‘Kevin’ in this case didn’t mean Kevin. It meant ‘Shut your mouth right or I will actually kill you’.

“No, not like that! It’s just…” he was blushing profusely now. “Her voice is like the rain. Most of the time it’s soft and warm and it wraps you in one big, wet hug. You can’t help but feel, well, blessed to get to feel it touching your skin.. But when it rains hard you feel every single drop land. But no matter what kind of rain it is, the impact is always enormous. Uh, yeah, her voice is like that.” There was a moment of prolonged silence, where Blessica had stopped crying but no one was brave enough to talk.

The door opened and Kit, Kevin and Astrid stumbled backwards. Mari didn’t. Stupid gorgous jock, Kit thought as she survayed her inferiourors.

Blessica stood in the open doorway. Her eyes were puffy and red. The dress looked perfect on her. Not that this style hadn’t looked perfect on Mari but their arms were so thick, they filled up the entire selve. Blessica was so petite you could see her bones clearly through the skin. It highlighted the flowness of the gown extremely well. “You guys like my voice?” Then, “why are you all staring at me, is it that bad?”

“Blessie,” said Mari. “You can’t just put on that in front of four people who like women and expect them not to stare.”

“Respectfully, of course,” added Kit.

“Just tell us if it makes you uncomfortable,” agreed Kevin.

“Step on me,” breathed Astrid.

“But then again,” said Mari, “you validate yourself too.”

“Run me over with a cement truck.”

“We can see your hot as fuck. But more importantly you have to believe you’re hot as fuck.”

“You could literally kill me and I’d get on my knees to thank you.”

Blessica was blushing as hard as Kevin now. They sheepishly smiled at each other before turning away. “Simp,” said Kit and he held out his hand. Astrid dutifully rewarded him with a high five.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am on the trans spectrum but I am not mtf. If you are and you feel misrepresented please feel free to private message me or just leave a comment tell me how I can fix it.

@the-wckd-powers @book-dragon-not-worm @thechangeling @the-blackdale @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @shelvesofgold @arangiajoan @maxboythedog @noah-herondale-lightwood @its-taff @cncnbr @sofiatheskeleton @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @adoravel-fenomeno

Let me know if I left anyone out. Also let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list.

#The Merry Hoes #Kit Rook #Kit Herondale #mari the werewolf #mari machado #astrid yang #blessica reyes #Kevin chu #dru blackthorn #drusilla blackthorn #ty blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #tsc

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incorrectsnkships · 3 years

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OKAY OKAY OKAY! I CAME TO THIS CONCLUSION LAST FUCKING NIGHT! CONNIE THE MOTHERFUCKING SPRINGER IS GAY!

So at first I just thought he was a really confident and comfortable heterosexual, y'know? BUT NOW! NOW!? oh no, no, no!

Reason numbrero uno! He has feminine hips. Straight boys don't strut like that, straight boys don't fucking be flexible like that.

Reason numbrero duex! He says bitch waaay to much. So if you don't know the history of the word bitch, bitch was also used a a gay slur for y'know twinks. You don't see Jean or Levi OR EVEN EREN going around going bitch, bitch, bitch, fucking crazy bitches. Sure maybe once in awhile, but Connie use it like a sister y'know?

Reason numbrero drei! Look at who the fucking hell he's hanging 'round with! Ymir; the fucking bitch lesbian. Christa/Historia; the lesbian or bi girl dude. He's the fucking second lesbian protector (next to Eren). You see that gay ass gay homie grab in like what season 3? Or was it 2? He's friends with Sasha, who does she hang out with most of the time!? Ymir and Historia! Sometimes Jean and Mikasa. Speaking of Jean, he ain't sleek either! Connie hanging 'round with a fucking bi-saster a bi disaster! Not to mention Reiner and Armin! We see him worry about Reiner and Bertholdt when they “missing” asking someone to check on them to see if there alive! Man looking out for his gay homies! Also in one of the games he asks Armin why he spends so much time with Eren, to which Armin shoots back with one of the most gay awakening responses, “Hm well what about Ymir and Historia, or Reiner and Bertholdt?” Like yo.

Reason numbrero shi! He mom picks out gay ass fucking names! Sunny, Martin, Connie. Fucking gay dude. (everyone seems to think Sunny is a girl but judging by there titans I actually think Sunny was a boy dude. That’s just a hunch tho~)

Reason numbrero five! He seems like the kinda guy who would wear jewelry. Not really necessarily gay BUt~ I think earrings would so be he thing, and if he we’re to come out he’d probably start wearing one earring!

Reason numbrero six! Look at the kind of shit this man does! He fucking carried Armin princess style, put him down like a prince, bruh he fucking CHOSE to he CHOSE to. He knew what he was doing. And that one official art where he’s wearing that blonde lopsided wig with makeup on. That dress with the fake boobs in it!

Reason numbrero 7! My mama always say, that if a boy is best friends with a girl he will almost always usually fall for her. Connie is close as HELL with Sasha. And while I LOVE springles. This know discovery is D A W N I N G on me! Connie don’t really seem to show that much interest in women. But not necessarily to men either. And that factor being. I think bby Connie is shy!

Overall I think he’s a great fucking character! I love Connie, but this just made me open a whole new chapter for him. I’m currently rewatching AOT with my mom ‘cause she done wanted to watch it and I couldn’t let her watch that cringey dub so yee. I’ll be paying attention for other Easter eggs and clues. I never researched Connie to much but now that I have I’m made some pretty interesting discoveries! In conclusion Connie Springer is probably fucking gay. SO in other words you were RIGHT! ATTACK ON TITAN IS FUCKING GAY! 😍

( j u s t l i k e m e l o l )

srry for the late reply, but you’ve actually convinced me

mans comes across heterosexual but he definitely had a crush on every single male member of the 104th. literally every one. and like many others, one of the older scouts was his gay awakening. and im not saying that connie had a crush on them or anything, and this is definitely not a ship post between connie and any adult in the show, but im just saying that he admired them. a lot. too much. and had to look away when they got changed in front of him.

“connie why do you offer to go kill titans with captain levi whenever we have a mission?”

“i admire his skills!”

“connie, you do realise that erwin doesn’t have time to have tea with you right?”

“no i know i just wanted to talk about stuff with him. professional stuff. as a soldier.”

“connie, you know that moblit doesn’t need an assistant right? he is the assistant”

“WELL SUE ME FOR WANTING TO BE HELPFUL JEAN-“

he’d simp for armin so hard. every week he has a crush on someone new, and then it goes in a loop. and he’d “practice” kissing too. like he’d occasionally bring the topic up in conversation and then go from there based off of the persons reply. “hey uh, jean, so like- have you had your first kiss yet?” and then jean would tell him no and connie would go full internal gay panic. “o- oh yeah, thas- thas cool, um, well, i havent- had mine either so like- would you wanna practice? it doesn’t count-“

connie would have his first everything with jean and it would be so funny because it just happens all at once. like hed get asked if hes ever kissed someone and hed just glare at jean and be so flustered

connie finds it so difficult to tell romantic and platonic feelings apart and thats why hes fallen for all of his friends

armin: oh, connie, thanks for doing that favour for me! i dont know what id do without you!

eren: wait! hurry, where do they keep the extra blades?!

connie: in the cellar!

eren: great- connie, i love you!

marco: see connie? if you just fold the paper a little more, youll get there :) youre a pleasure to teach and i love spending time with you :)

also why do i feel like connie and marco dated for a little while? not even dated then, had a thing going on for a bit. like besides from jean because he doesnt count, but connies first romantic encounter was with marco, fight me

and i definitely feel like connie went to hange for some advice about his sexuality. he was so confused and liking everyone at the same time, so who else better to go to than the person who tried to convince erwin to start an lgbtq+ youth club right?

but when eren and armin announced that they were officially dating, that was an eye opener for connie and it made him realise that its okay to be yourself

and it took him a while to actually realise that he was gay. hence the fact that hed physically gag whenever someone suggested for him to date sasha, and all those times in the boys changing room that hed have to turn around or leave completely

so yes, i can see where youre coming from, and i agree with you. but if we were to list the people connie has simped for from most-least?

marco

armin

jean

eren

levi (not really simping, more fanboying/celebrity crush)

reiner

moblit (same as levi)

bertholdt

#incorrectsnkships #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #connie springer #connie springer x jean kirstein #jean x connie #armin arlert #eren yeager #marco bott #levi ackerman #moblit berner #connie is a gay man #my friend says so

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cruelsister-moved · 3 years

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Aah, sorry, I don't mean to be annoying but - I never thought too deeply into how they choose to present themselves and !!! Thinking on it, the most extravagant XL ever appeared was the god pleasing costume, right? And that's not even smth he chose, it's just the costume anyone playing the main role wears. As a prince, he always wore pretty and nice clothes but like. He never chose any of those. Mu Qing always dressed him and XL himself never gave af about what he wore, he was too focused on other things - cultivation and fighting, mostly. And then, of course, when he had nothing but that plain robe and he's fine with that, it's just. Not important to him. Meanwhile, HC, as you pointed out, puts a lot of thought into what he wears (clothes, jewelry, accessories etc.) and what form he appears in and so on and so forth. Of course, ppl are free to still put XL in pretty things and depict him as gnc! But thinking on it, it's really odd how fanon gets them switched up a lot 🤔 And a shame, lol.

On that note, next to the gnc HC agenda, I propose that there should be more content with SQX and HC being gnc together, lmao. HC actually tolerates SQX well enough, which is as close as to "like" we can go - SQX and HC gender shenanigans when?

U ARE NOT ANNOYING!! i love to have these discussions<333 that's such an interesting point about his relationship with this stuff though like, for him clothes were really a distraction/irritation and almost symptomatic of the obligations he chafes under. for him, wearing the same clothes all the time is kind of a reclamation of his own body (especially after what we went through physically as the god-pleasing crown prince...). it's not like he was particularly against all that finery but to my memory he never really showed any interest in it or missed it. and in that one extra where he's lost his memory, what he notices is the uncomfortable texture (insert autistic xie lian agenda 🤔) it feels important to note here again that in these examples what he would be performing is masculinity; his extravagant outfits pre-ascension should not be taken as gnc or feminine just because a modern western audience would take long hair and flowing clothes and jewellery as feminine. so people can depict him in these type of clothes without any incongruence, but i think it's also interesting to examine his relationship to them and what that would mean for him as a character rather than just being like yeah this means hes feminine actually:) it's also okay to hypothesise about his relationship to gender obviously ^_^ but i don't think there is all that much in the text that makes him obviously gnc, especially not over hc!! i feel like there is a lot more than gender to his relationship w clothes that i dont have the brainpower to explore rn (like i think he is in some ways aiming to look unassuming, and when people underestimate him it isn't what ppl seem to interpret as 'he seems weak and feminine' but 'look at this clueless weirdo in his poor person clothes'!) but. i just really love the contrast between xie lian being like "gender is a performance and im sleep 😌" and hua cheng being very aware of how he presents himself and his main goals in general being "look hot to xie lian" and "piss off heavenly officials" which his presentation has a lot of power to do. like it's even interesting how he chose to present himself as san lang, like he had every choice to be some 8ft muscle warrior but he wanted to be this unassuming (but very put together) young man and constantly be all ahhh gege protect me i'm so scared ! interesting how he almost went to great lengths to AVOID flexing his power in front of xie lian, but he was fine with flexing the knowledge and the painting which immediately made him suspicious. like. that's so interesting i would love to explore that!! he had hundreds of years to agonise over how he was going to introduce him to xl and he decided on that side ponytail and slutty collar...

also i agree with u so much like i want hua cheng and sqx girl best friends agenda. i want hc challenging xl on his lame attitude to sqx's gender<3 its so interesting how the supposedly gnc xie lian is willing neither to perform gender nor to challenge it, while hc is like just having fun with it. two different relationships to gender which r both #valid but i would love to see them explored rather than xl is small and weak and feminine, hc is big and strong and masculine -_-

#ask #anon #tgcf #also so much autistic xl realness here actually but ic ant go into it. icant i would be here for 8 eyars

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 11: You Don’t Come Around No More]

A/N: I apologize profusely for the long wait. Thank you all so, so, so much for your support. Every single reblog, message, comment, emotional rant, and/or screech of despair makes my day, and I couldn’t do this without you. 💜 Only THREE more chapters left!!!

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “More To Life Than Baseball” by Petey.

Chapter Warnings: Language, angsttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Word Count: 7.5k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

The Rain

I wish I felt empty.

I’m supposed to feel empty, right? I’m supposed to feel steeped in grey, oceanic misery; I’m supposed to dip in and out of depressive naps all day and sob delicately over creased photos and fading, wistful memories. I always envisioned heartbreak as a soft and inherently feminine sort of affliction: the hems of nightgowns and bathrobes sweeping along hardwood floors, Kleenex boxes and concave couch cushions, weepy phone calls to friends and aunts and mothers, Queen Victoria wearing black for the rest of her life after Prince Albert’s death, Mary Todd Lincoln sinking into dark and hushed obscurity. Women, hollowed out by despair, cross the history of the earth like lines of latitude.

I don’t feel empty at all. I don’t even feel sad. I feel razored by sharp, red, ceaseless anxiety. I am consumed by thoughts of what I did wrong, what I said that started the wheels of doubt spinning in his mind, if he had known how it would end from the start. I dream of white, clawed hands dragging me down through cold waves. I hear words scream to me as I toss at night in my suddenly too-spacious bed, words that now hit me like knuckles to the gut: Shhh, hey, it’s just me, don’t get up, as Joe slipped beneath the Arizonan blankets, wrapped an arm around my waist, kissed my collarbone as I tumbled back into sleep; I love you to death, as his Subaru idled in Charlie’s driveway; Baby Swan, listen to me, nothing is supposed to hurt, okay, so if anything hurts, ever, at all, you tell me and we stop, deal? as we stood in the doorway of our hotel room at the Four Seasons in Chicago. And now...and now...

And now everything fucking hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense; and yet it does. Look at him. Look at me.

The Polaroid photo from Homecoming was still taped to the top of my full-length mirror. I peeled it free like a layer of translucent, friable reptilian skin, tore it straight down the center, burned both halves over a brand new three-wicked, lemon-scented Bath And Body Works candle—a gift from Renee and Paul—and closed my eyes like a child casting a wish over her birthday cake like a spell. I wished for my memories to vanish with the photograph. I wished to get hit by a truck and wake up in the hospital with no recollection of the past two and a half months. I wanted the Lees to dissolve into distant, enigmatic mystery; I wanted to join the rest of Forks in believing that they were nothing more than bewildering and yet harmless freaks, barely worth noticing, one of those glitches of the matrix that were better off ignored like liminal seconds of déjà vu. I wished to carve out every part of myself that they had ever touched.

And Joe’s voice came rushing back from where we stood by that star-lit fountain outside the Church of Saint Lawrence, accompanied by falling raindrops and a crooked grin: I can make wishes come true.

The three tiny flames flickered in the breeze that sighed through my open window. The bright, citrusy scent of the candle reminded me of Lucy. I couldn’t fucking win. What else is new?

I turned back to the mirror. I flinched when my gaze snagged on my reflection: bloodshot-eyed, swollen-faced, utterly unbeautiful, restless like a caged animal. Look at him. Look at me.

I ripped the last memento off the mirror—Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!!—and watched the yellow square of paper catch fire, curl up around the edges, become unrecognizable, turn to ash. And I wished over and over again, like a poem, like a prayer: Let me forget, oh god please let me forget.

Charlie keeps asking if I’m okay. The answer, of course, is no; but I can’t tell him that. So I wear a serene smile like clip-on fangs, a cheap polyester cloak, crimson smudges of lipstick like trails of spilled blood down the side of my neck. Every day is Halloween for me now. I dress up as someone who isn’t haunted, who hasn’t become a ghost.

And when Charlie turns up the World Series or I’d Do Anything For Love on his geriatric, staticky kitchen radio—the same radio he’s had since my mother was the one joining him for daybreak coffee and Pop-Tarts—I choke back tears like dragonfire.

Missing In Action (Revisited)

Joe wasn’t here. Neither was Ben.

Lucy, Rami, and Scarlett were sipping cups of tea at the Lees’ usual table, their eyes downcast, their voices low and murmuring, their pristine lunches neglected. Lucy and Rami were dressed in matching charcoal grey turtleneck sweaters; Scarlett had come from Fencing Club and was wearing royal purple yoga pants and a black tank top, her duffle bag of gear on the floor by her sneakered feet. Her hair was in a long fishtail braid. Archer hadn’t mentioned her since Joe broke up with me. That either meant that it was going blissfully and he didn’t want to injure me further, or that Scarlett had ended things as well.

Since Joe broke up with me. That sounds so fucking pedestrian.

I stared at the three present Lees, almost leered, commanding them to see me, to acknowledge me, to admit that I had once meant something to them, that this hadn’t all been some transitory delusion to fill the cavernous void of losing my home, my life as I knew it in Arizona. They took no notice whatsoever.

Jess kicked me beneath the lunch table. My attention snapped back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You want to go shopping with me and Angela tonight?” Jessica’s hands were folded just beneath her chin, her voice gentle, her eyes large and sympathetic and watery. This was her version of being supportive. I appreciated it...in a perpetually tormented and preoccupied sort of way.

“No thanks.” I forked my cold, sauceless spaghetti listlessly. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch. I didn’t have an appetite anyway. I had deleted the GrubHub app from my iPhone and had no intention of using it ever again in my comparatively short and calamitous human life.

“You could come to temple this weekend,” Jessica pressed.

“Uh.” Mingling with a churchful of sociable, wholesome, marriage-obsessed adolescent Mormons sounded like the absolute last thing I’d want to spend my evening doing. “That’s a really generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Well you have to do something,” Angela said. “You can’t just sit in your bedroom alone all weekend and stare at the wall and wallow in self-pity.”

We’ll see about that. I turned to Jess. “How’s Vodka Boy from your Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class? Did he ever reappear? What’s his name again, Elmo? Ellington? El Chapo?”

“Ellsworth.” She frowned as she slurped her patron-drink-of-Mormons Sprite. “And no, he definitely failed out or overdosed or something, because he never came back.”

“Tragic,” I noted.

“But I’m pretty sure Mike’s coming over this weekend, so we’ll see if I can get some Netflix and chill action going.”

“Jess,” Angela chastised, widening her eyes and nodding to me subtly (but not quite subtly enough). No talking about getting lucky in front of the heartbroken single loser, that look said.

“I think I can be emotionally supportive without taking a goddamn vow of chastity, Angela!” Jessica hurled back.

“I gotta go.” I stood, threw on my backpack, discarded my nearly untouched lunch.

“You’ve barely eaten anything!” Angela protested. “You’ve barely eaten for a week!”

“I’ll live.” I picked my umbrella up off the slippery tile floor—peppered with muddy shoeprints and pearlescent drops of water fallen from coats and limp, sopping locks of hair—and headed out into the pouring rain. I hated the rain. I hated it. Maybe I had forgotten that for a while, but it all came hurtling back now like a hurricane, like a hand cracking across my face. I ached for the desert, for blatant and unapologetic heat, for palm trees and cacti and naked stars in the night sky. I had been researching marine biology graduate programs in the Southwest. There were good ones at UC San Diego, UC Santa Barbara, Texas A&M, the University of Southern California, UCLA. I would miss Charlie and Archer—and maybe Jessica and Angela on occasion—and absolutely nothing else about Forks. At least, that’s what I promised myself.

This is a no-giving-a-fuck-about-Lee-boys zone, I thought morosely.

Ben was brooding at our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom. It was the first time he’d shown up to Chemistry since that day Joe met me on the beach at La Push, since the place I’d once occupied in his universe had closed like a wound. I took my seat beside Ben. The window was shut today, the downpour outside torrential. Ben recoiled, just enough for me to notice; he was wearing his oversized black hoodie and practicing his Welsh, his handwriting messy and unbalanced.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

Ben didn’t glance up from his notebook. “Would that have made it any easier?”

“No,” I realized in defeat. I guess it wouldn’t have. I pulled my own notebook, my favorite pen, and a can of Diet Coke out of my backpack.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben said. “You really need to know that. It had nothing to do with you. And none of us are happy with the current situation. None of us.”

None of them. That included Joe. “Interestingly, that didn’t stop him from creating it.”

Ben was thoughtful, debating his next words. “We’re probably going to be moving soon.”

“What?” I startled; my turquoise blue pen dropped out of my grasp and rolled across the table. Ben snatched it up and returned it to me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And what, just redo this whole college thing?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ll probably start our junior years over again. Gwil will say there was some horrible family tragedy and we needed a few semesters off. I could use the extra time to figure out Calc anyway. Parametric equations make me want to kill myself.”

I just stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. “But...why would the whole family leave Forks? Because of me? One pathetic, aggrieved human? Do you all pack up and relocate every time Joe fucks and dumps someone? That must be exhausting.”

“It’s better for everyone if we get some distance. Put more space between our world and yours.”

“But...” I tried to imagine never seeing any of them again: no Mercy humming merrily as she tossed handfuls of homegrown carrots to the alpacas, no Dr. Lee dabbing away my blood with an ageless sort of patience, no Scarlett or Lucy or Rami, no brief glimpses of Joe as he avoided me in the campus library. It’s exactly what I wanted; and yet it wasn’t. It so, so, so, so wasn’t. It keeps getting worse. How is that possible? My voice was flimsy and quivering, absolutely pitiful. Disgustingly pitiful. “Who will be my lab partner?”

Ben peered over at me with wide, confused green eyes. And then—gingerly, awkwardly, like holding an acquaintance’s baby for the first time—he laid his hand over mine. “I’ll miss you too.”

Professor Belvin lectured about coordinate covalent bonds. I didn’t absorb a word. I conjugated Italian verbs with my turquoise blue pen, sketched disordered whirlpools of ink, tried not to think about whether this was my last-ever Chemistry class with Ben, whether it was my last-ever weekend sharing Forks with the Lees. Those rageful, frantic thoughts were back. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do right? Why did he have to leave?

My nomadic gaze caught on a flier on the wall next to our misted window. I had assumed it was a leaflet for some club or protest or seasonal dance that I would definitely not attend, but it wasn’t. It was a missing poster.

Have you seen this student? the flier asked in bold, businesslike black font. It was urgent, but not quite despairing; not yet, anyway. I could hear a Dean of Student Affairs cajoling some affluent, strings-of-pearls-adorned mother over the phone: Yes ma’am, you have my full attention and I can assure you that we’re very concerned, but I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding...he’s probably gone backpacking or sailing with some friends and forgotten to call home. You know how college students can be. Beneath a large photo of a grinning blond kid—pink polo, flushed cheeks, clever crop job to nix a can of Natty Light clutched in one fist—was a name: Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin.

Ellsworth, I thought, my stomach plummeting. The guy from Jessica’s Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. He hadn’t failed out. He was missing. Missing like a 20/20 episode or a true crime podcast, missing like the pregnant stillness before a murder is confessed in some glaringly florescent-lit interrogation room, before a distended and bloodless corpse washes up on shore.

I turned to Ben. He noticed me eventually, crinkled his brow, shrugged in that way that seemed so petulant if you didn’t know him well enough to not be offended.

I pointed to the flier and raised my eyebrows. Ben twisted around in his chair to look. Then he sighed, scribbled a sentence in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tore it free, and slid it across the table.

Ben’s note read, in atrocious penmanship: Are you seriously asking me if I ate that guy?

Maybe, I wrote back after a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what I was asking; maybe I just wondered if he knew anything about it.

In either case, Ben’s reply was swift and resounding, and underlined three times: No.

Sorry, I wrote, abruptly remorseful. I am a jerk. And I added a frowny face for good measure. Ben chuckled when he saw it, shook his head, gave me a drawn little smirk. His words tiptoed around in my skull, leaving searing imprints like footprints in the sand. I’ll miss you too.

I have to forget about them. I drummed my turquoise blue pen against my notebook as Professor Belvin drew families of molecules on the whiteboard with squealing dry erase markers. I have to find a way to make myself forget.

Jessica was waiting for me in the hallway after class. It was part of her convince-Baby-Swan-not-to-jump-off-a-cliff initiative. “Hey.”

“Okay,” I told her with steely resolve. “I’m ready for you to set me up with one of those guys from your church or temple or whatever. I’m ready to be a nice wholesome wife, pop out like six kids, learn how to scrapbook, give up caffeine and horror movies, do the whole white picket fence thing. Sign me up.”

Jessica blinked at me. There were flecks of fallen mascara on her cheekbones like ashes. “What?”

“You’re a Mormon, right?”

“Girl, I’m not a Mormon,” Jessica said, puzzled. “I’m a witch.”

Lucille

I found Joe where he usually was these days: sprawled on the sofa, engulfed in the same blue Snuggie he’d been wearing for thirty-six uninterrupted hours, gazing catatonically at the big-screen tv. A 90 Day Fiancé marathon was on. Some rodentish guy named Colt was apologizing to his gorgeous, aspiring-green-card-holding Brazilian love interest for calling the cops on her during their last screaming match. He was also apologizing for the fact that they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his mother. I didn’t need clairvoyance to see where their future was headed.

“Hey,” Ben said when he spotted me. He was sitting next to Joe and occasionally tried to shove pieces of popcorn into his mouth, which Joe accepted passively like coins plinked into a gumball machine. Ben had been his shadow for the past week; he was perhaps the best equipped of us to understand this degree of melancholy, of hopelessness.

“Ciao.” And then, to Joe: “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv.

“I figured.” I squeezed between them on the couch, curled up next to Joe, rested my chin on his shoulder. He ignored me completely. I could hear Mercy tapping at her laptop keyboard out in the dining room; she was browsing through Zillow listings in Portland, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Dear god, please don’t let us end up in fucking Cleveland. “Guess what.”

Joe stared at the tv for a long time before he answered. “What.”

“I had a vision of you. Just now, as I was doing laundry. Crystal clear and very scenic too, I might add.”

“Fascinating,” Joe said flatly.

“What happened in this vision?” Ben asked, far more invested, which I was thankful for.

“It was pretty far away, maybe a year from now. I saw you in the desert at night, under a full moon. There were cacti everywhere. The shadow of the Milky Way was threaded through the sky, and the stars were very bright. I could make out the constellations Pegasus and Cassiopeia. You were filling up a tiny glass bottle with dirt.”

“That’s remarkably helpful,” Joe said.

“It is, a little bit,” I insisted. “It means you get through this. That you have a future. I get nervous when I go too long without a vision of someone in the family. But now I know you’re going to be okay.”

The reflections of the feuding 90 Day Fiancé couples danced in his glassy eyes. “Being alive doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“That’s dark,” Ben said. “Even I think that’s too dark.” He pushed a handful of popcorn into Joe’s mouth. “Are you gonna hunt at some point or what?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna sit on this couch and waste away?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to bring you anything? Grizzly bear? Brown bear? Fuck it, I’ll get you a polar bear if that’s what you want. There’s probably some on the black market. Rami would know.”

“He what?” Mercy called from the kitchen. Her typing had stopped.

“Nothing, Mom!” I shot back.

“I don’t want anything,” Joe said. That was a lie, of course. We all knew what he wanted. Rami couldn’t stand to be around him; the thoughts were relentless, smothering.

I linked my arms around Joe’s neck, laid my head against his chest, sighed deeply and mournfully. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll help however I can. We all will.”

And I had accepted that Joe wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally whispered: “I just wish I could forget.”

Cato

My rolling suitcase snagged on the cobblestone driveway. The tiny spinning wheels bashed against concrete as I scaled the front steps. As the taxi pulled away, I dug around in my suit pocket for my keys, found them, unlocked the enormous front door, stepped inside the palace as my suitcase trolled along the marble floor.

“Cato’s back!” Charity announced as she breezed down the nearest staircase, beaming and embracing me. She was a lovely, innately warm woman from Pointe-Noire, Congo; she still wore the silver cross necklace her mother had once given her around her neck. “Did you have a nice flight? Wait, let me check.” She pressed the fingertips of her right hand to my cheek. I felt the memories rush up like blood to a flushed face: the bite of sipped champagne against my tongue, the thin semi-transparent newspaper pages gliding between my fingers, the husky voice of the bearded, bearish naval officer who sat in the seat beside me, the misted silhouette of Vladivostok as it rose up out of the Pacific Ocean. “Uneventful, but pleasant enough. You flew commercial?”

“The jets were otherwise occupied, apparently.” Charity could see things with the predictability and precision that Lucy so often lacked, but only the past. I pushed her hand away. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re not mad,” Charity declared, confident, impish, helping me shed my suit jacket and draping it over her arm. “You’re never mad.”

She was very nearly correct. “Where are the rest of the kids?”

“In the kitchen. Go say hello, they’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“I know the feeling.” I kicked off my Berlutis, ran a palm over the wiry fur of the Irish Wolfhounds that appeared to greet me before they resumed padding watchfully around the palace, and went to the kitchen, my black socks slipping a bit on the marble floors.

I could hear their voices before I reached the door: laughter, teasing, complaints, requests. The scents of pancakes and cold butter and maple syrup were thick in the air. Charity was one of our four newest recruits, and they all still had that energetic lightness of being human, a youthful enthusiasm, a relative normalness. I spent quite a lot of time with them. It was my job—to help with the transition, to keep them happy, to facilitate the welding of their individual parts into the beastly machine that was the Draghi—but oftentimes it felt more like a reprieve. Some would stay close to me as they matured, others would grow in different directions, like ambitious vines climbing the skeleton of a garden trellis. I usually missed them when they ‘grew up,’ so to speak...although there were exceptions. I had never liked Liesl. I had always liked Ben. I opened the door.

“Ah, you are home!” Ksenia cried from where she stood over the stove, a spatula in her right hand, bouncing excitedly in place on her small bare feet.

“Hey!” Max and Austin called together. They were both sitting with their shoes propped up on the unglamorous kitchen table. There was a massive formal dining room that could accommodate up to twenty-five guests, but we rarely used it.

“Good morning,” I said, aware that I was smiling for the first time in days.

Max groaned as he scrolled through his Google search results on a burner phone. “What the fuck. My name is one of the top five dog names again. I think I’m gonna have to change it.”

I ruffled his long blond hair, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. Max had grown up a trust fund kid in Perth, Australia. His mother was old money; his father was a professional surfer. “Your name is fine.”

“Really, Kato Kaelin? Is it really? How am I supposed to intimidate people when I have a fucking dog name?”

“So make them call you Maximilian,” offered Ksenia in a heavy Ukrainian accent. She’d only been with us for eight months, but her English was coming along swimmingly. She flipped a massive A-shaped pancake on the sizzling griddle. That one was for Austin.

“Seriously?” Max said. “That is just way too many syllables. They’ll be halfway down the block by the time I’m done introducing myself. ‘Hey, come back mate, I haven’t killed ya yet.’”

“At least you aren’t stuck with a basic-white-boy-circa-1992 name for all of eternity,” said Austin Tyler McInerny, originally of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. He was chomping on a multicolored Fruit Roll-Up, which swung from his mouth like a lizard’s tongue. He’d been working at an ailing skatepark when Larkin found him. He still enjoyed showing off his kickflips, and kept insisting that he was going to teach me how to ollie. I didn’t have the faintest idea what an ollie was.

“Do you want a pancake, Cato?” Ksenia asked, passing Austin his plate and wiping her hands on her pink apron. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon. She looked so young. She was so young, actually. Nineteen. And she would be forever.

“No, thank you dear. I’m alright.”

“I like Alaric,” Max decided. “First king of the Visigoths. Alaric is a name fit for a vampire. Creepy, yet dignified. Or maybe Silas. Or Draco.”

Austin shook his head as he swirled a river of viscous maple syrup over his A-shaped pancake. “Definitely not Draco.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Harry Potter connection is unfortunate. People will hear Draco and think of that obnoxious white-haired kid from the evil snake-people house or whatever.”

“Oh, right,” Max sighed. “Like I said. Alaric would work.”

“So many A-shaped pancakes!” Ksenia poured a K on the griddle for herself.

“It’s good for you,” Austin replied, pointing at her with his fork. “We’re practicing English.”

“Alaric Luther,” Max mused, scrolling through his phone. I didn’t think he’d find that on any list of trendy dog names. “Alaric Lothaire...Alaric Lucian...”

“I like your name, Max,” Larkin said from the doorway. None of us had heard him arrive. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a deep maroon suit and a ring on every finger, grinning hugely. He was exactly as I remembered him: stunning, captivating, terrifying. The kitchen fell quiet. I could smell Ksenia’s pancake beginning to burn.

At last Max chuckled nervously, pushing soggy pancake hunks around on his plate with his fork, averting his gaze. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Larkin told me.

“It’s always a pleasure to be home.”

He nodded out towards the hallway. “Come. Regale me with the stories of your travels.” Then his eyes flicked down to my socks, and he grimaced—slightly, briefly—before turning away. “And find your shoes.”

I followed him through the hallway, the living room, the grand front foyer with the crystal chandelier, into the elevator. Larkin did not speak, but he hummed as we ascended: House Of The Rising Sun.

It hadn’t always been like this. It was difficult for me to pick out the details of what had changed—the tone of his voice, the proportion of wonder and gratitude I associated with him versus fear, the way this palace (or the one in Reykjavik, or Juneau, or Ivalo, or Murmansk, or any of the others) felt when I stepped inside it—but I knew something had. It had begun before Ben left. It was much worse now. Older vampires, in my fairly learned opinion, are something like the stars. They mellow as they age, temper their character flaws, grow wise and patient like Nikolai or Honora or Gwilym Lee; or they rage until they burn away every last atom of humanity, until they destroy themselves and take entire solar systems down with them. Increasingly, I harbored fears that Larkin was a vampire of the latter variety. And we were all his planets.

In his study, Larkin dropped into the chair behind his desk, brought a hand to his forehead, surveyed a disarrayed flurry of papers: letters, notices, deeds and titles, meticulously managed accounts of finances and disciplinary actions. Larkin had a laptop and burner phone, of course, as we all did; but he liked to work in paper as much as possible. That’s how he’d done things for centuries, since long before the name of the inventor of the internet (or harnessed electricity, for that matter) was a whisper on his parents’ lips. The sky outside was clouded and seeping soft rain.

“Things have been busy?” I ventured.

He frowned, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “I’m in purgatory.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“The Lancaster coven says they’ll need an extension for their dues. That’s the second year in a row, now it’s not just an exception, it’s a precedent. If you let one coven bend the rules, others will follow. So something will have to be done. Then there’s Stockholm. Anders’ coven has eaten a few too many locals—including the mayor’s favorite niece—and now the city is launching an investigation. Fucking idiots. They’ll probably all have to relocate. There’s some new territory dispute in Lima between Alejandro’s coven and a group of strangers that just came out of the Andes. We’ll have to make their acquaintance, of course. And as if all that weren’t enough, Rigel accidentally fed on a heroin addict and he’s currently detoxing in a cell in the basement. Would you check on him for me? I’m sure your presence will be a...” He waved his hand distractedly, almost dismissively, searching for the words. “A comfort to him.”

“Of course.”

“How are the Lees?”

“Fine. Typical. Gwil’s putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. Rami’s planning to get another law degree. Ben is, uh, adjusting. Slowly, very slowly. He’s not particularly content. But he hasn’t murdered anyone that I’m aware of.”

“How nice.” Now his eyes darted up to catch mine: focused, luminous, unreadable. “Nothing new at all?”

And instantly, I wanted to tell him everything. I forgot why I had ever planned to blunt the girl’s existence, to conceal her talent entirely; I felt her name rising in my throat. And then I remembered again. I’m doing this for Gwil, for Ben.

I pretended to ponder Larkin’s question, as if it was so difficult to remember, as if there was nothing left to sift through but a trunkful of mundane details from the trip like a grandfather’s tattered correspondence and tarnished war relics. That was something an average family might have squirreled away in their attic, I assumed; I’d never met my own grandfather, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have had anything to leave me if I had. “Joe’s got some new girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s serious. I doubt she’ll be around long. You know how Joe is. Scarlett’s seeing someone too, actually. A Quileute kid.”

“Poor boy.” And Larkin grinned like a shark beneath burning eyes. “He’s in for a lifetime of disappointment. Who will ever be able to hold a candle to those memories?”

Larkin had a moderate preoccupation with Scarlett’s beauty, her...tenacity. Her lack of talent was a great disappointment to him, a somehow more egregious fault than Joe or Gwil or Mercy’s. What a shame, Larkin often said. And I believed I knew what came after in his mind, although never aloud: What a partner she could have been.

He was still grinning at me. His expression was hollow, vacuous. A shiver clawed down my spine. He was waiting for something. No, he was searching. I stared back, and I willed for that intangible, contagious harmony I carried around like a wedding ring to hit him like carbon monoxide or bromine: undetected and yet inexorable, knocking him off his path of inquisition.

What does he suspect? What does he already know?

“Anyway,” Larkin continued abruptly, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “I’m glad there’s nothing to worry about in Forks. Liesl will be back in the next few days, Rigel will be ready to work again, I’ll come up with a plan to handle all this and my mood will improve tremendously.”

And where has Liesl been? I almost asked; and then I didn’t. It was a good sign that she was coming home. I had looked for her once while I was in Forks. When I made up my mind to find someone—when that switch flipped in my skull or in the tangle of nerves of my solar plexus or wherever it lived—it wasn’t like poking around on Google Earth: zooming in here, scrolling over there. A goldish trail lit up on the floor, a ‘Yellow Brick Road’ Honora and I sometimes joked, and I followed it. And I had no way of knowing how far that trail might lead. A route heading dead east from the palace might stop in the next town over or continue across the Pacific Ocean; my search might last one day or a hundred. In Forks—as I perched in a soaring western hemlock tree in the forest outside the Lee residence on a cool October evening—Liesl’s trail had led north. North to Vancouver, to Victoria, to Dawson, to Alaska? Who the fuck knew. I was just relieved it hadn’t led to the tree next to mine.

“Well, as always, I’m happy to assist however I can,” I told Larkin. “Just let me know and I’ll be on the next flight out of Vladivostok.”

“I appreciate that, Cato.” He smiled, paternally this time. And then he spun his chair around to peer out the window into the episodic flares of lightning that illuminated great dark clouds like neurons in a celestial brain. I hate thunderstorms. They remind me of South Carolina. “But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

After checking in on Rigel—irritable, frenetic, pacing, and yet predictably pacified somewhat by my visit—I trotted up the main staircase to the second floor of the palace. I found her in our bedroom: sitting at her easel, a paintbrush held in one graceful hand, an image like a photograph on the canvas. I promptly pried off my Berlutis for the second time today and tossed them into the closet.

“Ciao, amore,” I said.

“Ciao!” Honora replied, beaming. Her curly brunette hair was pinned up and away from her face; wayward tendrils spiraled down to brush her bare shoulder blades, the back of her neck. “Just give me five minutes...I have to finish the shadow of this tree...”

There weren’t many in the Draghi who survived the transition from Nikolai’s leadership to Larkin’s, but Honora had. She was gentle to a fault, a hopeless warrior, turned into an immortal on her forty-fourth birthday when Rome was still an empire; and she was without any talents whatsoever, except for one which was useless in combat. Her paintings, drawings, and sculptures adorned every palace the Draghi owned. Each year, Larkin would ask her to paint all of us together, incorporating any new faces, erasing the memories of those who had proven themselves unworthy. One such portrait, I knew, hung in Gwilym Lee’s home office.

I went to the woman I called my wife, laid my palms on her shoulders, leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take your time, love.”

“Everything’s alright?” Honora asked, looking hopefully up at me with large, wide-set jade eyes. No, not just hopefully. Trustingly.

“Everything’s alright,” I agreed, not knowing if I believed it.

Shadows And Spells

“He just...just...disappeared?!” Jessica sputtered, scandalized, gaping at me as she held a Styrofoam cup of spiked apple cider in her clasped hands.

We were on a quilt near the outskirts of the sea of beach towels and blankets that circled the bonfire. Women—wearing flowing dresses or robes or tunics or not very much at all—flounced around the flames banging tambourines and reciting chants that I didn’t know the words to. Some carried torches, beacons of heat and light in the darkness. Jessica was wearing a short black shirt, fishnet tights, and a black crop-top turtleneck sweater; I had opted for a bohemian blue dress patterned with stars, an old thrift shop find and the closest thing I owned to Wiccan festivities apparel. I had a cup of hot apple cider as well, enhanced with a generous splash of Captain Morgan, but hadn’t quite conjured up the rebelliousness to drink it yet.

I suddenly recalled Mercy bringing me an endless supply of virgin autumnal sangrias as Joe and I swam in the hot tub on the Lees’ back porch. As soon as you turn twenty-one, you can have the real thing. I frowned, shuddered, took a bitter and burning sip.

“Yeah,” I replied. “He told his roommate he was going to a frat party or something and never showed up and never made it back home either. The parents are blaming the university, the university is insisting he must be off with a girlfriend or on some hipster soul-searching nature adventure or whatever, it’s a mess.”

“Jesus,” she murmured. “What does your dad say?”

“He’s been helping the state police with the investigation. There’s really no evidence of anything. No witnesses, no footprints, no surveillance footage, no handy anonymous tips...”

“No body,” Jessica finished.

“That’s morbid.” I downed the rest of my cider. Was the world already beginning to list like a ship on choppy waves, or was that just my imagination? I guess it would be possible. I’d barely eaten all day.

“You were thinking it.”

“Well, one’s mind does tend to wander towards homicide under such circumstances.”

“It is the season of the dead.” She grinned wickedly, then took my empty cup. “He’s probably fine. I bet he wants to drop out to become a weed farmer and hasn’t worked up the guts to tell his parents yet. You want another?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” Jess rose to balance on black boots with five-inch heels and staggered off to the foldable table piled high with cans and bottles and snacks. I was getting the impression that her Wiccanism was more of a novelty than a spiritual commitment.

The season of the dead. Now that’s VERY morbid.

There were some guys laughing, smoking home-rolled cigarettes, and toasting glasses of red wine on a nearby mandala blanket, bespectacled intellectual types who were probably getting PhDs in Anthropology or Medieval Studies at the University of Washington. One of them—curly-haired, pale-eyed, wearing a sweater vest and a cautious smile—raised his wine glass in my direction. I waved back without much enthusiasm.

“He’s cute, right?” Jessica asked, plopping back down onto our quilt and shoving a full cup of spiked cider into my grasp. She motioned for me to drink. I did. “That’s Sebastian, but he likes to be called Bash. He’s twenty-three and speaks fluent German.”

“Charming.”

“He’s very...uh...gifted. I’m not saying I know from personal experience, but I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. And his parents own a beach house in Monterey. You could go skinny-dipping.”

“In the ocean?” The world was definitely wobbling now. I was warm all over, numbed, fuzzy; it was becoming difficult to picture Joe’s face, to hear his voice. This was good. I kept drinking. “No thanks. Too many sharks. They have great whites down there.”

Jess tossed her long, loose hair and sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So you should pursue that.”

“I’ll totally consider it.” I lied. I would not consider it.

She smiled, sympathetically, fondly. “I can’t believe you thought I was a Mormon.”

“I can’t believe I’m out in the Washington wilderness commemorating the Gaelic festival of Samhain, but here we all are.”

Jess glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“Ugh.” I craned my neck to see. Sebastian—whoops, my mistake, Bash—was approaching. “Please distract him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Also I’m pretty sure I’m getting drunk and I don’t want to do anything humiliating, like sob uncontrollably about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchu, Baby Swan.”

“Hey Jess,” Bash said, but he was looking at me. He pitched his cigarette off into the trees. What the fuck, who does that?

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” I told him in a woozy, mock-Smokey Bear voice.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Jess said quickly. “So what’s up? Come on, sit with me. Keep me toasty. Teach me some German...”

As they chatted and giggled and snuggled closer together—I’m starting to think that Jessica might have been her own reliable source—I studied the forest, watching to make sure the cigarette didn’t begin to smolder in the damp brush. The voices and crackling of the bonfire and sharp ringing of the tambourines faded into one muted, uniform drone. The trees reeled in the haze of the spiked cider; the cool wind moaned through them. And then, for only a second: a glimpse of something impossibly quick, something silvery and reedy and sunless.

What was that?

I blinked. It was gone. I blinked again, staring penetratingly. The swarming heat from the cider evaporated from my skin, my blood. There were goosebumps rising all over me.

What the hell was that?

I remembered how Calawah University students sometimes reacted to Ben: flinching, withdrawing, autonomically fearing him on some primal, evolutionary level. They knew he was a predator. They knew they were prey. It was chillingly similar to what I was feeling now.

I have to get out of here. I have to go home.

I shot to my feet. Oh, wrong move, that was too quick. I swayed, and Jessica reached up to steady me. “Are you—?!”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I gotta go home now.”

“What?! We just got here! Look, chill out, let me get you some vegan samosas or something—”

“No, seriously, I have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica conceded. “I’ll finish my drink and we’ll call an Uber, alright?”

“Really?” Bash asked, crestfallen.

“I’ll call an Uber,” I told Jess. “You stay, I’ll go.” Maybe she shouldn’t stay, I thought foggily, irrationally. Maybe it’s not safe.

“I can’t let you go alone. I got you drunk and now you’re a mess and if you end up murdered it would be my fault. There are unsolved mysteries going around, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Girl, there’s no way I’m gonna—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get in the Uber and I’ll stay on until I’m physically inside my house, okay?”

Jessica considered this. Bash leaned in to nibble her ear. I could smell the red wine and nicotine and animalistic lust sweating out of his pores. And unexpectedly, agonizingly: a biting flare, a muscle memory, Joe’s fingertips skimming down the small of my back and his scent like winter nights saturating the capillary beds of my lungs. Stop, stop, stop. “Okay,” Jess agreed at last.

“Awesome.” I was already opening the Uber app on my iPhone.

My driver was a Pacific Northwestern version of Santa Claus: wild grey beard, red flannel, L.L.Bean boots, rambling about his upcoming trip to hunt caribou in British Columbia. I honored my promise to Jessica and kept her on speakerphone for the duration of the twenty-minute drive. I rested my whirling head against the seat, let my eyes dip closed, watched the intermittent streetlights appear and disappear through my eyelids. I let myself into Charlie’s house when I arrived, wished Jessica goodnight (and reminded her not to get pregnant), and meandered clumsily into the kitchen for a glass of water and a cookie dough Pop-Tart to ward off a possible hangover. Charlie was snoring quietly on the living room couch. I watched him for a while, smiling and achingly grateful, before heading upstairs to my bedroom.

My window was wide open; that’s the first thing I noticed. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I was always neglecting to lock the window, sure—I kept forgetting that there was no one to leave it unlocked for anymore—but I hadn’t left it open when I went to meet Jessica this evening. Icy night air flooded in. The stars were bright and furious in an uncommonly clear sky.

“You trying to give me pneumonia, old man?” I muttered, thinking of Charlie. I tossed my iPhone down onto my bed and crossed the room to close the window. And as it creaked and collided with the sill, I heard my closet door open behind me.

Someone’s here. Someone’s in this room with me.

I turned, very slowly; it felt like it took a lifetime. She was standing in the doorway of my closet, sinuous and white-haired, wearing black leather pants and stiletto heels and a long-sleeved lace blouse the color of blood, the color of her eyes. And she was harrowingly beautiful; not like Lucy or Mercy, not like Scarlett. She was beautiful like a prehistoric jawbone, like a serrated crescent moon, like a blade.

The owl. The goddamn albino owl.

I recognized her immediately. I heard Joe’s words as he introduced each vampire in the immense painting hanging in Dr. Lee’s upstairs office to me, though I desperately didn’t want to: She’s literally Satan, only blonder.

Her name tumbled from my trembling lips. “Liesl.”

“Wonderful, we can skip the introductions.” Her voice was like windchimes, cutting and brisk, with a hint of an Austrian accent like a shadow. Now she was at my bedside and picking up my phone, scrolling through it with lightning-quick and dexterous thumbs. “Hm. No texts from any of the Lees in the past week. So we don’t have to worry about them dropping by, I suppose. Joe got bored with you already, huh?”

“Evidently.” My own voice was brittle, anemic, weak; just like my ineffectual human body.

“That’s quick, even for him. How sad.” She sighed, tucking my iPhone into her red Chanel purse. “There’s a private jet waiting at the Forks Airport. Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

“Please don’t hurt my dad,” I whispered, scalding tears brimming in my eyes.

“Of course not,” Liesl replied with a savage, saccharine smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

51 notes · View notes

colorseeingchick · 3 years

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Hey Can I ask for a self ship date pls ? I’m a 18yo girl who is 173 cm of chaos and my heart has been stolen by Kise Ryouta from KNB 😩.

We may be very different, he’s more of a warm and a social person while i’m cold in the clouds and ambiverted but his smile, his laugh and how he’s dedicated in basketball made me lose it. I find his whole personality interesting even the more cold and ugly parts of him and he has the pretty face for him too but i’m not the kind of person who can just fall for apparence. He have such a voice too 😳 He has that charming aura, playful but yet still lighthearted and funny. He being two-faced surprisingly don’t bother me that much somehow i understand from where hes coming from. I relate a lot to his overachiever and need to handle all things himself to the point of hurting. As a basketb fan i am also enamored w his way of playing, i gen think he is the best of gom he always do his best to the point of barely breathing and honestly i relate to this too when im into something i love. His quick learning abilities are hyper and i like how Kise try to be honest w himself. I like also the balance he have w masculine and feminine energy and don’t mind him being a dork. His relationship w others characters are gold too like w Aomine and i can see him showing me affection to my touch starved self and just general affection i lack in general even if i don’t say it. Also i can imagine a certain dynamic between us where no one is the lead of the couple but we’re on equal terms.

Now more about me i am an ENTP 8w7, I am independent, creative, honest, prideful and « generous » i don’t think that last one much but my close one describe me like this. I’m very curious, likes experimenting and new things. I am funny/sarcastic, playful and as it iam very memeable but surprisingly top student here who doesn’t behave like it at all both in class and just in general. My aesthetic is a weird mix of everything i love so i am both a tomboy, alt and a baddie somehow. I am into law and economics studies and can talk french, korean and spanish as i learn languages in my free time by myself. I do read, write, draw and listen to music, play all sort of games including sports, get on a walk from time to time, eat cuz food is delicious and just learn in general. I have kind of ✨trust issues ✨so i don’t have many friends. But you sure will have fun w me ! I don’t about chill i have some temper but sure im pretty cool and open minded ! In love i really am a mess, i’m easily flustered but act cool to hide it and because of that i look like someone confident and mysterious except i am not the first one and ugh im lowkey a tsundere so it’s difficult to assume my feelings. But i swear i try !

Thank you for reading me ! I hope i didn’t bother you much.

You didn't bother me at all hun! This was a lot of fun to write so I hope you enjoy :) I think I have a pretty fun date planned for you two if I do say so myself hehe.

Premise: Kise got to know you throughout high school, and saw you as different from his other fangirls. Even though it wasn’t basketball, you also stood out at the top of your class, making you noticeable to Kise. You were actually a good friend (a cute friend at that) and he decided that he wanted to take you on a date during your 3rd year (once the basketball season was over and he had time to make for you). Knowing how fun you are, he had the perfect plan.

As you look into the mirror to examine your outfit, your phone buzzes with the “I’m hereeee ;)” text. You’d decided to lean into your tomboy vibes, given that Kise told you to ‘get ready to do stuff,’ which was not very informative, but exciting nonetheless.

As you walk out, you’re greeted by the blonde man dressed handsome as ever, a dark long sleeve shirt with fitting jeans, his silver hoop shining as the sun starts to set.

“Ready Y/N-chi?” He asks you, smiling as he overdramatically offers his hand for you to grab.

“Ready as ever~” you say as you grab his hand. He pulls you close and winks, flustering you right from the start.

“If I remember correctly, you said something about this being the best date I ever go on?” You take your chance to poke fun at him as well.

“Oh honey, it will be.” You can see the way his eyes shine and his mischievous grin as he walks with a nice hop in his step, guiding you towards the train station.

The train ride was pleasant, his hands protectively on your shoulder and a mean glare on his pretty features when other men looked at you or got too close, but his face was calm as he comfortably bantered with you (you on the other hand were quite unbothered by it all). Once you finally arrived at your destination, you found yourself in the lively district of the city, flooded with restaurants and shops all open late night.

“I forgot how beautiful this area is at night!” You can’t help but say as you look at all the beautiful lights and architecture.

“I had to take a pretty girl to a pretty place, you know?” He squeezes your hand as he drags you along once again, until you end up at your destination.

“I think this’ll be a lot of fun,” he says to you as he pushes open the doors to the arcade, letting all the dark lights and glowing games illuminate your sight.

He buys the coins for you both to play (He’d asked prior if it’d be okay for him to pay for you this date, and you’d agreed), and you set off to play all sorts of games.

It was a lot of fun for the both of you. While the games were enjoyable, playing them with him made it all the better. He also never missed an opportunity to flirt with you, and playing games made it easy. Both of you being overachievers, with Kise being a quick learner and you being open to trying new things made the experience amazing.

“Here, stand like this and loosen your wrists up for a better shot.” you both were playing the basketball game, and to no surprise Kise had absolutely killed it. Now here he is, helping adjust your shot. Standing behind you, he lightly adjusts your waist, turning you a little bit to help your footing. His hands then move up to your shoulders, then down to your wrists, helping guide your form and placement on the ball. While you were learning from him, it was hard to focus with him this close to you. “Y/N-chi, you can focus on me later. You should focus on your shot for now.” He says lowly, teasingly, watching carefully as your face erupts into red. He really did love teasing you, the usually calm, collected, confident top student.

Admittedly, you feel like you got back at him when you watch him try the crane game (the ones filled with stuffed animals) and he couldn’t get it after 7 tries. The frustration was clear in his face, his impatience rising.

“This game is rigged, I know it!”

You ask to try and of course he complies. However, he’s not ready for you to get a cute little stuffed panda on your first try. Suddenly, he’s a lot more embarrassed than you were earlier.

“You definitely used magic or something.” His pout is both adorable and hilarious to you.

You laugh as you hand him the panda. “Here!”

Looking down at the panda and then looking back up at you, he asks, “for me? But you won it!”

“But I want you to have it. It’s cute like you, Kise-kun.”

A huge smile crosses his face as he pulls you into a hug, spinning you around. “Y/n-chi!!!! You’re so generous!! Giving me your stuffed panda~ I’ll take good care of it.”

You have a nice laugh as you watch Kise end the night out by playing Dance Dance Revolution, not afraid to be a bit flamboyant as he goes all out with the footwork and does really well at the game.

After collecting all your tickets, Kise takes you up to the rewards table, telling you that he knows exactly what he wants to get.

“And we have enough tickets for it! Great.”

You can’t help but smile when Kise points to the GIANT stuffed panda hanging on the wall.

“I thought you weren’t the type to return favors,” you recall what he said during a game with Seirin from a long while back.

He blushes, thinking about what he said. “I’m not, just one upping you,” he jokes, sticking his tongue out at you, letting you nudge him in return.

“Do you wanna get food, Y/N-chi?” He asks, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Sure, from where?”

“You decide. I decided on the arcade, you can decide dinner.” He looks at you with a smile, thinking back on how fun the whole night had been. “But I get to decide dinner next time.”

“Next time?” You shoot back, eyebrows raised, a smile forming on your face. “Who said I’d go out with you a next time?”

At your comment, his smile falters as he stares at you for a good second. He gets all serious suddenly, pulling you close (with a giant panda pressed into your side) and making you look into his eyes. “Y/N-chi, would you please go out with me again? Tell me you will!”

Giggling, you smile up at him. “Of course, Kise-kun.”

He sighs out and hums in approval, before pressing a small kiss onto your cheek. “Call me Ryouta.”

Ahhh I hope you enjoyed it! I tried to incorporate as many elements as I could! Please do let me know what you think <3 this was so fun!!!!

#knb #knb matchup #kuroko no basquet #kuroko no basket #kise ryouta #kise fluff #CSC hits 200 #colorseeingchick milestone

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dying-alot-tbh · 4 years

Text

okay this isn’t homestuck and im very sorry I haven’t been posting homestuck but it’s Hello Charlotte stuff and im begging you to play the game.

But uh, here’s my theory, I wrote a small essay on why I believe Charlotte Wiltshire is trans mtf.

It does have a lot of spoilers for the games though (obviously) so if you care about those don’t read I guess?

I did however mark the spoilers for HC3-

Reasons why Charlotte Wiltshire is trans mtf

Or at least heavily trans coded

(Warning, spoilers for Hello Charlotte and mostly HC3 up ahead)

Okay so Hello Charlotte right? It’s a great game in my opinion, with amazing visuals and storyline. But, Charlotte, I believe, is male to female transgender.

Please take into consideration that this is just a head canon. But really she’s so transcoded i can’t even-

Firstly, the mirror memory. When Charlotte gets knocked out in the locker room, she wakes up and has to find a way out of wherever she ends up, accompanied all by Frei.

She goes through a multitude of puzzles and ends up infront of three mirrors showing a flashback or memory in each. The first mirror is a memory called “Feminine.”

The memory shows a young Charlotte talking to Aiden about her growing her hair out and wearing more dresses. Given that we know Aiden and the other tenants are imaginary friends, this could very well be her consciousness supporting her thoughts about being a girl.

Aiden is a figment of her imagination so it’d make sense that he’d know about her feelings or dysphoria.

Now with Anri, I’m well aware that “Charlie” is just a nickname. But with how she treated Charlotte in the first two games I wouldn’t be surprised if that was just Anri deadnaming Charlotte.

And we all know that Charlotte wouldn’t be one to correct her. Charlotte looked up to Anri so she might just put it off. She’s fragile emotionally, as confirmed by Dr. Huxley with the whole Heart wounds thing.

It also would explain her classmates views on her, along with her quote unquote “making stuff up.” According to Anri, Charlotte made up new lies everyday, about her friends at home, about puppeteers, etc.

I could see that being the reason people didn’t like her but it could also be because in school’s, trans kids aren’t the most accepted people, especially in high school.

Now with the issue of Charlotte being liked by her peers. In the first game Charlotte claims that she’s very popular and we are shown this because all the other kids compliment her and call her great.

Along with the tenants, I believe these claims are delusions. At the school trial, no one votes for Charlotte except Anri, even then it’s not guaranteed based off who you vote for.

And aswell as, in the lunchroom, if you choose to talk to the Npcs, despite supposedly liking Charlotte, none of them want her to sit with them. One girl even makes you back out the spot she was saving if you go next to her.

Along with that, they consistently hint at you sitting with Vincent, or C, saying how lonely he looks, and that he just needs someone nice to go sit with him. All telling Charlotte to go sit with the “god” kid they laughed at and mocked earlier.

You could argue it’s just game mechanics pointing you in the right direction, but if he’s sitting alone in the corner, it’s really not that hard to see him and go talk.

With being trans, I get it’s not the same for everyone, but Charlotte isn’t that confident most times and is pretty ignorant. Waving off all the times she was manipulated by Anri, never sticking up for herself, even when her hair was being torn up and cut by bullies,

Her insecurities could be a result of many things, possibly including gender.

and now for the Hello Charlotte 3 spoilers,

It’s not a huge spoiler but could ruin experiences of people who haven’t played the game.

So,

-/- Spoiler warning!!! For HC3!! Skip to the dashed line to avoid them -/-

Now in Hello Charlotte 3, I’m not focusing on Q84 herself, because she was claimed to be non canon if I remember correctly and I don’t know if I’m wrong or not but I never saw any signs of dysphoria or hints at being amab.

Instead I’m focusing on Scarlett Eyler. Now you may be saying, but what does Scarlett have to do with the original Charlotte?

Well if you played or watched the third game, you’d remember how Scarlett was reborn (is that the right word?) as Charlotte from the first two games.

Since Scarlett is female, I believe it just backs my theory.

Picture this, you have the mind (not memories though) of a female, i.e Scarlett. And if you were born male, you might find quite the amount of problems with this.

You identify as female, but you weren’t born one. You might not notice much at your younger age, and no stereotypes are being forced on you because you’re parents don’t visit often. But as you grow up, you start to find more discomfort in how you look.

And I think the reason it was never mentioned explicitly in the games (aside from her not actually been confirmed trans) is because she was never told it wasn’t okay, her brain seemed to block out the bad stuff her classmates said.

Of course she’d be nervous about going female presenting, anyone would. At least Charlotte, who’s mental health wasn’t the most secure in the first place.

—————————————————

Spoilers for HC3 end here!!

———

And my last point, when C/Vincent is escaping the house with Charlotte, he mentioned how Seth Puppeteers (aka you, the player,) are usually assigned to males, so it was weird that Charlotte was assigned one.

If Seth was assigned to Charlotte when she was ten, before she made up her mind about being female, it’s a possibility that she was assigned Seth because at the time, she ‘was’ male.

That brings me to my conclusion. Charlotte shows a lot of possible signs to being transgender, mtf. Based off, flashbacks and memories, the way she’s seen and treated by her classmates, and because of data we know from the 3rd game.

But that’s just a head canon, I personally see her as mtf, but if you don’t, okay then. It’s just an opinion and I don’t want to push it on anyone.

If I missed anything about her being trans, or got anything wrong, I’d love it if you gave criticism or gave me another reason why it could be a thing-

I believe Charlotte is trans! If you don’t see her that way, that’s okay! No hard feelings.

#hello charlotte #charlotte wiltshire #hc3 #hc2 #hello charlotte 2 #hello charlotte 3 #spoiler warning!!#i didnt really talk about the bullying #i only mentioned it but keep that in mind #I havent edited this so correct me if i mispelled anything-#sorry it isnt #homestuck #charlotte wiltshire trans

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readysetstarker · 5 years

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KINKTOBER DAY 6: UPSKIRT/SEMI-PUBLIC SEX

Read on AO3

so a lil birdie told me a few weeks ago that @starkerchemistry‘s bday is today, and i promised her a very pornful fic as a gift! sorry, it’s so late, my dear, but work took priority today. hopefully, i’m still on time in w/e timezone you live in. chems is one of the first starker blogs i ever ran into on this site, and was one of the first people i followed when i joined! i’m so honored to be able to give her something today. happy bday, chems!! 😊😊😊😊

warnings: peter is an adult. crossdressing, cheating, dubious consent turned consensual, anal plugs, anal fingering, semi-public sex

—

Peter was grateful for how easily the Avengers had taken to him wearing more feminine clothing around the Tower. There had been a few questions here and there about his gender, his presentation, all of it respectful and toeing a line Peter never drew himself. Interactions differed between each Avenger, but Thor had asked him nothing. His mentions of Peter’s clothing were mostly compliments, commending him for how well-dressed he was when he wore a bright red chiffon skirt and baggy blue tee to dinner one night.

His main concern had been when he caught Tony staring at him in the lab once, looking equal parts shocked and… something else. Something Peter had seen on his boyfriend’s face a long time ago when he wore a black lace number in bed when they first started dating. But it was quickly replaced with a smirk and a nonchalant shrug.

“Wear whatever the fuck you want, kid,” Tony had told him when Peter asked if his clothing bothered him. “As long as you wear your suit in the field and do what’s asked of you, what you wear in your downtime is your business, and no one else's.”

And nothing more had been said, beyond Wanda offering him some of her own clothes when she went through her closet. He really liked the dresses and coats she gave him, although they had needed some tailoring to fit properly. The first time he had worn one of her scarlet skirts, he couldn’t help twirling around in it.

He even sent a picture of himself in it to his boyfriend, but the response was lukewarm: a simple message of “cute”, encapsulated in a bubble of green. Peter tried not to let it bother him when he saw it, curled up in a pink plaid skirt and his old Midtown High sweatshirt. He had a black fleece blanket thrown across his legs because of the short hem, and he didn’t want to flash anyone during their movie.

(That, and he didn’t want anyone seeing the half-mast erection pushing the fabric of his skirt up. The black plug he had pushed into himself was pressing against that sweet spot inside of him every time he so much as breathed, and he was trying his best to will the ache away while hiding it from view. He had plans to swing by his boyfriend’s place after this and didn’t want them to waste any time with prepping.)

Sam had chosen the movie tonight, an old action flick that Tony swore up and down was not a Christmas film, just because it takes place on December 25. Peter laughed and licked butter and cheddar popcorn flavoring from his fingertips while the two bickered until Natasha shushed them, and Peter silently checked his phone for another response from his boyfriend.

<<It’s pretty, right? I can just imagine you fucking me in it, hiked all the way up to my hips while I’m bent over the kitchen counter.

Peter chewed on his lip and checked the room around him. Everyone was too preoccupied with the movie to notice him texting. He waited (im)patiently for a response, excited to see what his boyfriend would say to that. The excitement died when his phone buzzed, and he opened up their text conversation.

>>That’s a lot of fabric in that skirt, though. And having sex in the kitchen isn’t exactly sanitary. Besides, my mom’s over for the weekend, so maybe we could try meeting up next week.

That made Peter’s chest tighten.

<<For the ENTIRE weekend? It’s our two-year anniversary tomorrow! We have dinner reservations at that new bistro and a hotel room off the coast. Remember?

>>Oh, is that this weekend? I must have forgotten.

Peter breathed out heavy and long, eyes aching from the need to cry. He grit his teeth and punched in a heated response that he knew he’d regret in the morning.

No one said anything when he pushed the blanket off of himself and retreated to the kitchen. He decided to make his own bowl of popcorn, something to help drown the anger filling his chest. His phone buzzed again from the couch, but he ignored it in favor of perusing the cabinets for popcorn bags. If Thor used them all up again …

“Hey, kid,” a voice started. Peter turned away from the pantry as Tony was shushed by three people from the living room, and he put a hand up in apology before moving to stand in front of the counter and lean back on it. “You, uh, you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter lied. “Why do you ask?”

“Accidentally read your boyfriend’s text when your phone went off. Didn’t meant to snoop, sorry.” Tony held the mentioned device out to him, but Peter just shook his head, and it ended up on the counter. “You want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m fine.” Peter moved to the counter and checked the text Tony had seen. A half-hearted apology followed by an accusation that Peter was just looking for a fight. Peter swiped it away with his finger. “We’re probably going to break up, anyways. Been a long time coming.”

He didn’t see Tony wince but the sympathetic hiss from between the man’s teeth was heard.

Tony’s hand was warm on his back where it laid between his shoulder blades, slipping down just an inch. He pushed off the counter and moved to Peter’s side. His touch was comforting, and Peter could feel the tension melting from his shoulders at his mentor’s touch.

“Well, I’m sorry either way. Break ups always suck.”

Tony’s hand rubbed slow circles into his back. Peter relaxed more into it. From where he was standing, he could still see the movie blaring on Tony’s large flat screen, and the others were too entranced by it to even notice they were gone. He was also pretty sure Bruce had stolen his blanket at some point.

“He won’t know what he’s missing once you’re gone,” Tony said, voice pitched low as his hand began slipping down.

Peter didn’t really register what his words meant until he could feel the gentle brushing of Tony’s hands on the swell of his ass. His breath hitched.

Was Tony really doing what he thought he was doing?

No, Peter thought, Tony’s hand just accidentally touched him when he pulled away. He had definitely pulled his hand away and just happened to bump into Peter. That’s what happened, right?

Wrong, apparently.

Peter had to bite back a yelp when he felt Tony’s hand brushing up beneath the hem of his skirt. His fingertips traced just under the swell of his ass. Peter’s teeth nearly drew blood at the realization that Tony—his mentor—was feeling him up from beneath his skirt. It sent a thrilling shock down his spine. He whimpered and quickly clapped a hand over his mouth.

Tony hissed in his ear, a gentle encouragement to be quiet, before his entire hand slipped beneath Peter’s skirt and cupped his ass. The curve of his cheek fit perfectly against Tony’s palm, and the hard squeeze he gave it made Peter want to moan. He bit into the flesh of his hand to resist it.

Should this be happening? Should he let this continue? He was so much stronger than Tony, could easily turn around and throw the man across the room if he wanted to.

Tony’s fingers stroking along the curve of his ass sealed it. No, he didn’t want to throw Tony through a wall. He wanted his mentor to keep touching him, spark a fire between his legs that, if he was being honest, hadn’t been tended to in far too long. He had missed someone finding him attractive in his new clothing and touching him like this. And to have Tony Stark of all people wanting their hands on him?

His legs separated subconsciously when he felt Tony’s fingers drift down to stroke the back of his sac cradled gently in the pair of white briefs underneath his skirt. Peter struggled not to moan as Tony’s fingers ran up the slit between his cheeks, until they found the flared base of the plug nestled inside of him. The noise Tony made at its discovery kicked up his heartbeat.

Tony played with it through the thin fabric of Peter’s underwear, turned it and pressed in until Peter squeaked; the sound, thankfully, was covered up by an explosion on the screen.

Lips pressed into the back of his neck as a hand curled around the one covering his mouth, Tony’s breath hot against his skin. Peter’s shuddered as Tony slipped his fingers past the hem and stroked the smooth skin around the plug’s base. Peter was sure his knees were knocking together hard enough to make noise, but none of the others seemed any wiser to what was happening behind them. The two hands around his mouth help muffle his moan when Tony’s fingers wrapped around the base and gave it a gentle tug.

“God, baby,” Tony whispered in his ear. He sounded so wrecked, it made Peter’s cock stir. “He really didn’t deserve you, fucking look at this. Makes me want to feel inside you, baby boy. Get my fingers in there and make you squirm.”

Peter would have bitten his lip if he could, would have gotten on his knees and begged him to. He missed this, missed someone finding him so desirable they couldn’t keep their hands off him, even with company not even fifty feet away.

Unable to speak, he just nodded. Tony chuckled.

“You want that, Petey? Want me to fuck you with my fingers?” Tony’s voice sent shivers down his spine, his skin tingling all the way down to his feet. Peter nodded again. His eyes clenched shut as Tony gave it a harder tug and pulled the flare of the plug against his rim. “Oh, honey, I’ve got you. Gonna treat you right, but you gotta be quiet. I don’t like sharing.”

Arousal hit Peter so hard he almost choked. I don’t like sharing. The words echoed over in his head as Tony pulled at the plug again, twisting it until the largest part was pulled past the tight ring of his entrance, and Peter mewled quietly against his and Tony’s hand. He went up on his toes, hips jerking, and the head of his cock brushed against the side of the counter. He could feel how wet the front of his underwear was, wondered if he had leaked all the way through to his skirt.

Tony’s lips pressed against the back of his neck again, open-mouthed kisses tracing patterns across his skin while Tony pulled the rest of the plug out. He let it fall to the floor. The sound of it was covered up by gunfire. Peter clenched around the emptiness inside of him, barely hearing Tony’s praise of how cute his hole was.

He didn’t have time to complain about being empty, as two of Tony’s fingers slid into him. The lube was still wet and sticky, making the penetration easy, and god, did Peter squirm. Tony hadn’t done anything to him yet, but he was already rocking his hips back against Tony’s hand and palming at himself from underneath the counter. He was rock hard in his hand and his underwear was soaked.

Tony pumped his fingers in a few times. He did so slowly, working them through the slick inside of Peter’s hole, and then he crooked his fingers and pressed against Peter’s prostate. He thrust his fingers into it, didn’t let up, not until Peter was on his toes and arching against the counter. He moaned, quietly, in between their fingers. His cock leaked more into his underwear.

Peter’s toes nearly curled into floor. Tony chuckled in his ear, retracted his fingers, only to slide in three.

“You’re goddamn gorgeous like this, Pete,” he said in the boy’s ear, teeth grazing the shell and pinching the skin behind it.

Peter just moved his hips against Tony’s hand. The man’s voice, his words, right in his ear, made Peter’s head spin and his eyes roll back. He was so close, embarrassingly soon, and he didn’t want Tony to stop. He wanted to keep rocking back against the fingers in his ass, even with the rest of their team sitting only a few feet away.

Tony had other ideas. He was relentless in prodding Peter’s prostate. His touch turned just the right shade of rough, and his fingers dug into the meat of Peter’s cheek when he got louder, unable to contain little noises of pleasure and muffled pleas. Tony forced him closer to the counter.

The feeling of his mentor’s hard cock against the back of his thigh was what sent Peter over the edge. With a squeak into his palm and his legs going taut, Peter came into his fist, hips jerking and hole squeezing over Tony’s fingers. Tony helped him ride it out and teased his twitching rim after removing his fingers.

Peter leaned his weight against the counter and tried to catch his breath. He whimpered when Tony pulled away and replaced his fingers with the plug he had dropped earlier. His rim was raw and twitched around the rubber bulb as Tony pushed it back inside. Tony gave it a quick press in and laughed at Peter’s overstimulated whine. Peter's thighs shook so hard he was sure that he would end up on the floor if he tried to walk out.

Tony kissed the back of his neck again. “Come find me later, once the movie’s over. I’d love to see Wanda’s old skirt hiked up those pretty hips of yours.”

Peter couldn’t hold back his gasp when Tony took hold of his hips and ground his hard-on between Peter’s cheeks.

And then Tony was gone, returning to the couch as though he hadn’t just fingered Peter so good that he made walking impossible. Peter could see him reach for the blanket, probably to help hide the erection he didn’t take care of while he was still behind the counter. One word from him, and Peter knew he would have gladly sunk to his knees for his mentor, would have let him use his throat as well.

With trembling hands, Peter reached for his phone.

<<Don’t worry about this weekend. I’ll be spending it with someone who can appreciate having me all to themselves.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #nff #kinktober 2019 #my work

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og-danny-dorito · 4 years

Text

A Few Tommy Shelby Headcanons

why did i decide to make this? good ass question cause idk myself

S F W:

- OK just to start it off, hes probably bisexual

- hear me out okay

- the dude has varied taste in women, obviously. the only distinct traits i could find between them all were short hair and formless figures. this doesn't necessarily mean that he's bisexual, but at the time there was a lot of social stigma around anything that wasn't heterosexual and so I'm fairly certain whatever attraction to men he has has been pushed down

- and pansexual is also very possible but i'd think that he'd get a little confused with gender fluidity or something like that and historically that sort of thing wasn't not all that prominent, especially in England in the 1930s where racism was still a normal thing

- what he probably does is that anytime he sees that a man is like relatively attractive his brain auto-corrects into harsh criticism and sudden scorn for the person for like no reason to cope with his gay feelings

- so you already know he's a stubborn baby man

- he doesn't admit a lot of things, like that he thinks you look nice or that he's happy to see you because his pride gets in the way a lot of the time

- the only time he really does admit anything outwardly is behind closed doors when you're both probably in bed and relaxed, not really thinking of anything. you'd probably hear him say something along the lines of “im a lucky man” or “dont leave me like the rest of them did”

- yeah, his self confidence is extremely low. of course he knows that he's a damn good businessman and a great leader, but he has doubts more often than not that cause him to loose sight of himself

- usually he drinks when this sort of thing happens because he can't help but feel ashamed to admit his feeling. it's a coping mechanism that he uses for pretty much everything, really

- he can't talk about himself very openly, so you'll either have to sit down and drink with him or urge him to speak about what's on his mind because that shit ain't healthy in more ways than one. (you personally can probably think of a million different solutions, those just seem like the most likely)

- speaking of which, he doesn't sleep much either. he can function on barely any sleep at all, but the issue is that before having to get into bed with someone he probably ends up falling asleep at his desk or on a couch or something. he's not sure how the blanket got there while he was sleeping, but he appreciates it regardless

- tommy probably enjoys someone who's confident in themselves or at least carries and air of being confident. people that he's pretty sure could stomp him into oblivion are hot, he can't help it. of course he also likes people who are the quiet type of scary as well. he can't ever figure out what's going on in their head, and it creates a sense of comfort in ignorance but unease in it as well

- i will elaborate on his secret masochism in my nsfw headcanons that i might make later (maybe idk yet)

- his favorite thing to do in his past time is read, honestly. it's a good way to detach from business and a good way to spend time with someone

- he probably likes historical fiction the most. maybe horror too, but he likes all things history. especially if they're about the Great War because honestly he wants to point out the flaws in some of the accounts he was part of

- if it's fine with you he'd rather just read and sleep all day or maybe bake something together if you've got enough time

- he gets frustrated with things that waste his time though so you'll have to probably do it on your own while he grumbles and watches

- if you were any sort of lgbtq+, he'd be that much more protective of you. same goes if you're a woman because in his mind woman=weaker. it's not necessarily true, but he feels an obligation to be protective of a woman. you're probably much stronger than him or at least seem like it, so not unless you tell him to stop treating you like a piece of glass he'll keep an arm around you at all times. a man he'd probably feel less protective of honestly just because he respects pride and dignity, but that doesn't mean he doesn't let up on the protection

- man or woman or anything like that, once you mean something to him you're going to have his boys’ eyes on you everywhere. it's a dangerous life he leads, and while he doesn't really want you to be involved in it to the point of keeping you in constant danger, it can't really be helped. expect to be kept under close inspection within his area and slightly closer inspection out of it

- is very hesitant to let you become a part of business affairs. even being at the meetings makes you a witness, therefore if one of the lower members snitches you might be in danger if your name is spilled. it's very unlikely he'll try to get you into business affairs unless you're trained and well-educated in that sort of thing

- this includes accounting, contract knowledge, and maybe even basic law knowledge amongst other things

- he may want you to come along for business events like parties or something, but if you're after grace there's close to no chance that he's introducing you as his significant other or bringing you at all. if you do come along though, he may introduce you as a whore. if you're a dude though you'll just be a friend coming along with him

- speaking of which, he has really bad PTSD. from the multiple things that's have happened to lead him to the present, it's not unlikely that he'll wake up with frequent nightmares and be triggered by things such as loud noises that are too sudden or someone screaming because they're in pain or something like that. and after the whole grace incident combined with john’s death he's probably even more of a mess

- this of course leads him to drinking quite often. it's no time unlikely for him to get intoxicated nearly every day of the week, and often times he doesn't say a word about it during and after. in fact, now that he has you around he's even more adamant to not talk about it. but he can't really help but talk once he feels safe doing so

- what if you leave him? would you have doubts because he's mentally damaged? what would happen if you did leave? these questions cause anxiety obviously

- but tommy has always paid attention to the little things. for instance, if you see him drunk and happen to sit next to him quietly while talking about something that has nothing to do with it, he'll definitely remember it the next day. the fact that it takes his mind off of whatever he's mourning about is something he really appreciates because he knows he wouldn't be able to do it himself

- he's never been one to have loose lips, but when he's intoxicated he may or may not just spill to you right there. you could be saying something like “- and then she knocked him the fuck out. It wasn't weird to watch cause she-” and he’ll just look you dead in the eye and say “I thought about France again today.”

- it's very likely you'll hear about his past lovers more than once and honestly Tommy is hesitant to talk about it. he may be insensitive sometimes but he's not an idiot, so he knows it may make you uncomfortable

- just listening to him makes all the difference to him. he hasn't felt like someone cared about what he's had to say without being a Shelby for a long time, and you just caring enough to sit and hear what he says means more than any big success in the business or good news from some merchant overseas

- he, in turn, is very good at listening. in fact, he's so good at it that all of that skill got drained from giving advice cause he's horrible at that. his way of handling things isn't great so when he tells you to shoot the guy at work who’s been bothering you in the hand as a “warning” to the others, don't do it cause

- ok now for random headcanons that are not deep and depressing

- probably likes animals, but honestly if he had to keep one in the house he'd prefer a cat just because they're less strenuous and take less effort to handle. while he's not working he'd like one of them curled up in his lap and purring as he keep some one hand on the pen and the other on it’s head. he'd probably name the cat “Mitten” or “Button” ok let's all be honest with ourselves

- lowkey loves to wear your sweaters or something like that. he'll definitely deny any claims suggesting so, but you know damn we'll he still stealing your clothes whenever he can, feminine or masculine. honestly just having it feel like you're around him all the time by simply wearing your clothes makes him feel really comfortable, especially if you're bigger than him or wear clothes that are bigger than him. it makes him feel safe

- probably also likes it when you in turn wear his clothes. he won't say it out loud but he likes it when he notices that his shirt is missing only to see you groggily fixing yourself coffee/tee/literally anything else in it at like 8AM in the kitchen

- likes the color blue a lot, but red looks really nice on people in formal clothes. if you show up in a red dress or suit or whatever he's definitely going to be fucking you on the table later and that's just the facts

- he gets jealous very easily but never says anything about it. you can tell because he suddenly gets about 10x clingier and literally holds you close to him at all times to make a point. may also stare down anyone that looks in your general direction for good measure

- he gives his s/o flowers all the time, whether he's in person or not. he likes to pamper you to the point where you look like a monarch, but like alfie he fully understands if you're more simplistic and prefer to stay low-profile cause he does too

- guns are sexy and if you can use one or any other weapon that's hot and that's all i'm gonna say about that

- physical appearance doesn't matter to him all that much, but his favorite part of the human body is probably the hands. he likes to see hands that have been through some shit, like scars on them and maybe a little dirt or something from work

- he's always been fascinated by writers and people who can create something from nothing. in fact that sortof imagination is always something's he’s envied and wanted for himself, but he's not hopeless at it. he's very good at making up stories and detecting flaws in plot or logic in the storyline. so if you ever need someone to proof-read for something you missed he's the guy to go to. also he knows publishers all over so if you're having trouble he can hook you up with someone to get your stuff known

- kindof emotionally closed off but he can't help but want to talk when you're around. you're inviting in more ways than one, so he eventually ends up spilling no matter what's wrong

- once it's been established that you're close, the whole family may or may not watch you closely for several weeks trying to figure out whether you're good enough or not. arthur will most likely watch you from afar and give you death glares as a warning and john will defenitely flirt with you to see if you're going to cheat on his brother. finn is probably going to try to make friends with you, but aunt polly will interrogate you because that's what she does. ada will try to get the most information on you from everywhere she can and so and so forth until they finally decide that if tommy picked you you can't be all that bad

- they warm up to you quickly, to put it simply, but tommy will most likely have to shoo them off

- in conclusion, tommy shelby isn't an easy lover, but it's worth the struggle at the end of the day. it's been a while since he's felt someone cared about him, and regardless of the circumstance you bet your ass that once he's grown fond of you there's little to no getting out of it by that point. you're his lifeline, his world, and he plans to grow old with you or at least keep you next to him until he withers away and dies

#Peaky Blinders #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby #shelby #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby headcanons #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby headcanons #my headcanons #peaky blinders headcanons #headcanons #imagines #headcanon #imagine

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cutesuki--bakugou · 5 years

Text

Surprise Girlfriend

A random quirk affect makes things a little more... interesting.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Sex, cursing, dildo use, just naughty things in general Pairing: Fem!Bakugou x Koge (OC) (and regular Baku, too, a little) Words: 8,571

a/n: This was an idea that I’ve had for a long time and finally decided to just... go for it, even tho it’s super kinda weird and naughty. But y’know, I had fun, it was difficult and different for me so I think that was good to help me with my... funk, I suppose. I decided to stick with masculine pronouns for Bakugou during this, so sorry if it seems a little confusing or off when I describe him. There are some other quirk related accidents that can turn out in different ways that I have in mind, too, that I may be able to do eventually. Either way, enjoy. Also enjoy these horrible awful gross sketches that I did, even tho I don’t like them much I though I’d include them anyways lol.

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Full story under the cut~

Cutesuki 6:09 PM: koge. im coming home. i want to hear NOTHING about how i look. NOTHING.

Koge was pretty sure that a text had never confused her so much in her entire life, especially not a text from her lover. Many things about it didn’t make sense, but the fact that he used her first name along with capital letters made her increasingly nervous. What could possibly be the problem for him to send her such an ominous message? Had he gotten hurt? Was he covered in dirt and grime from a particularly difficult mission? Was he missing a limb?

Me 6:11 PM: What in the world are you talking about Katsuki? (⊙＿⊙) What’s wrong? Are you okay? (⋟﹏⋞)

Cutesuki 6:15 PM: im not hurt if that’s what you want to know, but i am not okay. i fucking mean it. one word and im getting a hotel for the next 24 hours.

Me 6:16 PM: Whatever it is, it can’t be that horrible. (´･･`) Why don’t you just tell me, so I won’t be so surprised when you get home? (･ω･)b

Cutesuki 6:18 PM: no! you just had better act like nothing is different! nothing!

With an annoyed grumble, Koge pulled her legs up onto the couch, adjusting her blanket over her chilled feet. If it was truly as serious as Bakugou was making it seem, there would be no possible way for her to just ignore it. She knew that she would end up saying something, as the words would just spill out of her mouth involuntarily, as they had a tendency to do anyway. At least it seemed to be something temporary, according to what he had said along with his threat to avoid her for twenty four hours. That put her at ease a little, though her curiosity was unquenchable.

I wonder if he got turned into a cat person like I did not long ago. Though that ended up being fun. If he’s this upset about it, I think having fun is definitely going to be out of the question.

Deciding to practice at pretending that nothing was going on, Koge dropped the topic and went on discussing normal, mundane things with him as she awaited his arrival home. Bakugou took to the normalcy well, not making a fuss or seeming off in any way. The only thing he seemed frustrated about discussing was the movie night they had planned, as he seemed quite set on just going straight to sleep. Even eating dinner brought about a frustration that Koge couldn’t understand just yet. It was as if he wanted the day to be over, to sleep as soon as possible. Perhaps sleeping was the way to get rid of what was ailing him?

Eventually, the sound of rough and angry knocking reverberated through the room, prompting Koge to stand. Nervous butterflies rattled about in her stomach all the way to the front door of their apartment, and as she unlocked all the locks, they nearly burst out of her. As the last one was undone, she took in a deep breath, preparing herself to not make a scene.

All of her preparation was useless. The instant she laid eyes on her lover, she gasped out in shock, instantly covering her mouth in an attempt to stop anything else from escaping. The person before her was indeed her lover, the man that she had grown up with and loved with every inch of her soul. But he was no longer a… he. A woman stood before Koge, dressed in the clothes that Bakugou had left in that morning with his familiar duffle bag slung over their shoulder. Although Bakugou’s regular height hadn’t changed, the clothing hung extra baggy off the figure of the woman, making it nearly impossible for Koge to see exactly what they looked like. Those particular points paled in comparison to their face, which was absolutely lovely, if not for the glare and typical snarl that arose when Koge let out her squeak of surprise.

“Damn it, Utsuro, I told you not to act up!” The feminine growl of Bakugou’s new voice was foreign to Koge’s ears, leaving her in stunned shock as the stranger shoved their way into their home. Swallowing her shock, Koge shut and relocked the door, waiting until she was done before even attempting to speak.

“Katsuki… I’m sorry, but you have to tell me what happened first. Was this done by a quirk?” She took the duffle bag as it was shoved into her arms, watching her lover curiously as he stripped off his shoes, not even bothering to put on slippers. Once shoes and jacket were removed to be left at the entrance, Bakugou stormed off towards the bedroom, hands shoved into his pant pockets.

“Of fucking course it was a quirk! And it wasn’t even a villain! It was a pedestrian I helped get out of a fight zone, and she was so scared she activated her quirk on me. They didn’t need me there so I fucked off the instant it happened, so the media couldn’t see me. I’m fucking pissed about it!”

Following the fuming blonde into the bedroom, Koge put the bag in her hands down in its usual spot, though she didn’t even get a glance at Bakugou before he was in the bathroom. The door slammed shut so loudly it made Koge jump, and she was sure the entire 40 story tall apartment building could feel it. “Did she at least tell you how to go back?”

“I have to either sleep or sweat it off. She said that if I sleep it off, it will take longer, but it will go away within a day. If I sweat it off, it will be gone sooner. So my ass is going to do an intense workout, until I’m sweating my balls off, then going to bed!” The sound of shuffling clothes was mixed in with his voice, only making Koge curious again as to what this new body looked like.

“But Katsuki, you don’t have any balls.”

“Shut up! Get me my fucking tank and shorts out of the dresser!”

Giggling, Koge made her way over to the commanded destination, pulling out Bakugou’s favorite black tank, loose workout shorts and a pair of boxers. She was unsure if these were even going to fit this new mystery figure, but she knew that none of her stuff would fit either. Bakugou was still much taller than her, and Koge doubted that the new feminine figure was any less muscular than normal. So, she brought the clothes over, knocking on the bathroom door lightly. “Here, love.”

The door peeked open barely enough for Bakugou to peek out at Koge, his hand reaching through. Still, Koge kept the clothes close to her, peering up into that crimson glare she loved curiously. “Can I see you?”

“What?! No, you can’t see me, give me that shit.” Bakugou’s cheeks flushed dark red, snapping his fingers to command the delivery of the clothes. “I mean it, I’ll fucking leave and go get a hotel if you keep bothering me!”

With a roll of her eyes, Koge plopped the clothing into the slender waiting hand, which vanished back behind the door before it shut. “Honestly? I’m your girlfriend, you shouldn’t be scared to show me yourself. What am I gonna do? Take pictures and post it all over the internet? Laugh at you? You want me to act normal, but you’re the one acting like a spaz.”

“I think I have every fucking right to act like a spaz, Utsuro! I was just turned into a fucking chick! Damn it, my tits are too big for this shirt!”

Koge instantly began to laugh, though she covered her mouth to try and stifle the sounds as to not upset her lover further. “Well, that tank does fit you tight, even when you’re normal. You want just a normal big t-shirt instead?”

“Everything’s too big, Utsuro. Even my damn boxers!”

Beginning to actually feel bad for him, Koge tapped her finger against her chin, wondering what she could do. “You could just go without boxers, and wear the shorts. It’s no different than freeballing as a dude.”

“It is different! I have a cunt now, it goes up inside my body, that’s gross! What if it gets all infected or some shit.”

“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous. I’ve gone without underwear plenty, and you are well aware of many of those times. Have I ever gotten an infection? No. Just don’t go rubbing your pussy all over weird shit or shoving stuff up in there.”

Bakugou groaned out loudly, a sound Koge knew well to be an expression of frustration and defeat. With a small tap of her fingers on the door, Koge sighed. “Come on, Katsuki. Come on out and I’ll help you find clothes that fit. You can’t avoid me all night. I’m not trying to make fun of you or anything.”

After a long moment of silence that almost had Koge giving up, the door finally opened, revealing Bakugou in all his red-faced shame. He couldn’t even look at Koge, fiddling with the shorts to try and tighten the string to keep them as snug as possible. “I don’t like this, Utsuro… I feel fucking weird.”

Comforting smile on her lips, Koge reached out and took Bakugou’s hands gently, leading him out into the bedroom. “Just remember that it isn’t permanent, love. It will go away, sooner than you think. If it helps at all, you’re seriously one smokin’ hot lady.”

Face flushing darker, Bakugou scoffed, snatching his hands from Koge to cross his arms over his chest. “Tch, fuck off! You think I wouldn’t be?!”

“Katsuki, you’re so beautiful as a man, there’s no way you’d be any less beautiful as a woman. Your boobs are even bigger than mine!” Tenderly, Koge reached up and cupped his cheeks, which were hot against her chilled skin. “Come here. I missed you today.” With a gentle tug, she got him to lean in for a kiss, pushing herself up on her toes to meet him halfway. She did have to admit that it felt different, his lips softer with just a hint of that characteristic roughness she was familiar with. It was still her Bakugou, and that fuzzy, warm sense of love filled her like it did any other day.

He didn’t quite seem to agree, the furrowing of his brow hinting that he was still uncomfortable. “That doesn’t… bother you?”

“Hm? No Katsuki, not at all. I mean, your lips are way softer but that’s it. Why would it bother me?” Koge sneakily wiggled her way into an embrace, her arms around his neck while he nervously locked his arms around her torso.

“But, I’m not… I’m a fucking chick right now. That doesn’t make you feel weird?”

“No. You’re still my Katsuki. I love more than just your body, you know. Everything about you is still the same. Just… you’re a lady right now. And that’s fine.”

“But you’re not attracted to women.” His hands moved to caress her sides. “It has to be strange for you.”

Koge gave a small roll of her eyes, pushing herself up on her toes to kiss him again. “It’s not! Sure, I’m attracted to your normal body, but that doesn’t make a difference. I love you for being you. Man or lady. Even if this was permanent, nothing about how I love you would change.” Her comforting words only made his cheeks somehow flush darker, a scoff leaving his lips before he shoved his face into her hair, squeezing her against him in his embarrassment. Smiling, Koge stroked his hair softly, glad to see that the texture and style of it hadn’t changed much at all. “Don’t stress out about that. It’s just temporary.”

“I’m fucking glad it is. I don’t know what I’d do if I ended up a woman forever.” Bakugou peeled himself from her, making his way over to his dresser to dig about for clothes that might fit him better. It was obvious that he needed it, as the shorts would have fallen without him holding on and it was clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t think I have anything that will stay on…”

“Hmmm.” Koge followed him over, stopping at her side of the dresser to dig around as well. “I might have some shorts, but they are like… girly shorts. And some normal underwear, too. Nothing frilly or… thong-ish. You could try them?” Pulling out the mentioned clothing items, she took a second to look over Bakugou’s body, trying to gage his size. His new figure very closely matched hers, with a soft athletic frame that was quite curvy. The only difference was really the height, so she figured that the shorts and underwear would probably fit. “I know you’d prefer your boxers and all, but if you’re worried about not being covered, these would be the most comfortable.”

Bakugou glared at the clothing out of the corner of his eye, clutching a pair of his own shorts in his hands tightly. The reluctance was obvious on his face, but Koge could see that small spark of realization behind it. A new body required different clothes, and though it was clear that he didn’t want to succumb to his new female figure, it was something he’d have to suffer through. Roughly shoving his clothes back into the drawer, he shut it harshly with his knee before taking the clothes in Koge’s hand. “And what if they don’t fit?”

“They should. You’re taller than me, but your figure isn’t all that different. If they don’t fit then we’ll… figure out something else. We can both just walk around naked or something.” Koge couldn’t resist a smile at the blush on his face, though she was happy to see that he only went to the bed instead of going to hide in the bathroom. “Ooh, not scared to be around me anymore, huh?”

“Well don’t fucking watch me change! Fuck, Utsuro, keep it in your pants.” Bakugou glowered at her over his shoulder, waiting until she huffed and turned her back to him before letting the baggy shorts and boxers fall to the ground. Pout on her face, Koge crossed her arms over her chest, listening to the sound of shuffling clothes and the familiar snap of underwear band against skin.

“Any luck?”

“I suppose… How can you stand this stuff so tight against your skin? It’s irritating! Like having a permanent wedgie.”

Koge giggled, unable to resist a glance over her shoulder. She got a peek of his backside as he pulled the shorts up into place, and from the looks of it, they fit just fine. A little tighter on him than they were for her, but they still fit better than the loose shorts. “Well, we don’t really have anything hanging in the way, so it’s normal. Those look good on you!”

Glancing at her with cheeks still as crimson as his eyes, Bakugou scoffed, adjusting the tank to try and pull it further down to hide himself. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear that… I just want to work out and go to bed so I can be rid of this.”

“But you haven’t even eaten dinner yet. You’ll make yourself sick doing that without food. C’mon, let's cook dinner first and then we can work out together.” Koge smiled at him, gently taking his hand as he approached her. “You gotta get used to your body first before you start working out, anyway. I can tell you’re fumbling a bit with the boobs.”

“They’re so in the fucking way… I hate them.”

“Aw, I like them. You’re at least a double D, Katsuki. They’re super pretty and perky without a bra, too. You haven’t squeezed them or anything yet?”

“No! I am not touching myself in any way, don’t be perverted.”

“I’m not being perverted. I just assumed that most guys, if they suddenly had tits, they’d want to touch them. You like mine so much, I just assumed you would have given them a squeeze.” Koge reached up and squeezed her own breast, pushing it up a bit. “I’m kinda jealous of yours…”

“Don’t start. Let’s just eat some fucking food so I can get on with working out and be done with it!”

Cooking, eating, and cleaning up afterwards went about as normal as any other day, though Koge could see that Bakugou was struggling. He had issues holding chopsticks, more than normal, and cursed every time he dropped some rice down between his breasts. Koge couldn’t resist her giggles every time he had to fish it out, nor could she resist teasing him when his nipples became visible with the cold. He didn’t react as badly as she would have expected, merely covering them with his arm or pulling his long legs up into the chair to pull his knees to his chest. He may have not liked it, but Koge found him to be ridiculously adorable.

As they finished cleaning up after dinner, Koge gave a sigh as she hopped up to sit on the counter, patting her full belly a few times. “Man, I’m full! That was delicious as always, Katsuki. Thank you.”

Bakugou only gave a grunt in agreement, currently drying his hands off on a small towel they kept hanging next to the sink. Once he was done and after placing it back into its spot, he turned his crimson gaze towards her. Koge could see his tension soften as it usually did when he was calm, so she beckoned him over with open arms, which he responded to instantly out of instinct. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to the edge of the counter, he kissed her sweetly, making Koge’s heart flutter. She let her own arms wrap around his neck, legs hooking around his waist to keep him close.

He was so soft and sweet, kissing and caressing her body with that familiar touch that she couldn’t resist. Eating may have been a problem, but showering her with such sweet affection obviously wasn’t, not missing a beat in the way he kissed her. If it was a normal night, she knew very well that he would have scooped her up and took her to bed, but as his lips left hers with a frustrated sigh, she knew she wouldn’t have anything more.

Grumbling, Bakugou rested his forehead onto hers, his crimson gaze locked onto hers with that familiar haze of lust. “This fucking sucks, Utsuro…”

Koge caressed his cheeks softly, giving a quiet hum as she stroked his skin with her thumb. “I know… I will admit, I’m missing your dick right about now. I’ve been waiting for you to get home all day, after that teasing you gave me this morning and left me hanging. Unfair.”

“I can’t do anything about it… And I sure as hell am not putting on a strap on.”

“We don’t even have one. I mean… I have other toys-”

“No.”

Pouting, Koge let her hands fall to rest on his chest, running her fingers along his collarbone. “No? Why no?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you while I’m like this. In any way. It's not happening.”

“Why? It could be fun. A woman’s orgasm is completely different from a man’s, y’know. Aren’t you curious about what it feels like?” Her fingers traveled up and across the soft form of his jawline, waiting for that flicker of contemplation to cross his face. “You have to be, at least a little bit.”

“You do realize my body is probably set up like a virgin, right? It wouldn’t be as fun as you’re thinking.” Bakugou gave a small shake of his head, his cheeks flushing at the thought. “It’d probably just fucking hurt.”

“I’d treat you nicely, Katsuki. Nicer than you treated me.”

“I treated you just fine! You weren’t even physically a virgin, you just hadn’t even been with a man before. You were the one telling me to fuck you harder, don’t even try to make me seem like an ass.”

“I’m not! What I’m saying is that I wouldn’t go all out on you… at first. Until you’re ready. And if you don’t want anything up in there, I can just play with your clit instead.”

Bakugou’s face was dark red by the time she finished, glowering down at her with reluctance. “You don’t even know how to fuck a woman.”

“I get the concept. And I know how to use toys. That’s something you don’t know about.”

“Not happening.”

With a huff, Koge shoved her face into his chest, enjoying the soft plush swell of his breasts. “Meanie. I bet you’re super wet just from kissing me.”

Bakugou stroked the back of her head softly, a hint that he truly did feel guilty that he couldn’t give her what she wanted. “Yeah, and it’s fucking uncomfortable. Not as bad as having a boner, though…”

Koge kissed Bakugou’s skin softly, trailing her lips and soft kisses up to his neck. “You have a lady boner. That throbbing and aching…” She let out a small, airy sigh, caressing the side of his neck. “Mm… I’ve been feeling that all day. It can be unbearable sometimes…”

Bakugou moved his hands to her hips, his fingers edging under her shirt to feel her skin. “I get that Utsuro, but there’s just no way.”

“Katsuki… You aren’t scared are you?” Koge smirked against his skin, feeling his grip tighten on her. “Or is it… You don’t think you’d be good enough? I bet you just wouldn’t know how to handle me as a woman…”

Bakugou brought his hand up, digging it into her hair and gripping a handful, tight enough to bend her head back and make her squeak out in a mix of pain and pleasure. “You’d better watch your mouth, Utsuro. You’re the one that wouldn’t know how to handle me.”

“Wanna bet?” Koge let her fingers slip under the rim of his shorts, feeling her cheeks flush from the grip on her hair. “I bet I could have you wiggling and panting. I can already tell that you’d make the cutest expressions while cumming… C’mon Katsuki. Just because you have a pussy now doesn’t mean you should be one.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Do it. Pussy.”

Koge let out a squeal as she was scooped up off the counter, laughing when she settled over Bakugou’s shoulder as he headed towards the bedroom. “Wow, you’re still strong enough to carry me like a sack of potatoes!”

“That’s because you are a potato.” Bakugou landed a firm smack on Koge’s ass, making her yelp and wiggle to escape.

“Ow!! Mm, do it again-- oof!” Koge was denied her request as she was tossed down onto the bed, her body bouncing with the impact. She didn’t have time to move or react as Bakugou straddled her torso, sitting firmly down onto her lower stomach to keep her in place. With a huff, Koge glowered up at him, her hands gripping his thighs. “Well this is new.”

Smirk on his lips, Bakugou reached behind him, his hand finding its way between her legs to rub and tease her clit on the outside of her shorts. “You really are just a horny little slut, Utsuro.” Free hand wrapping around her neck, he squeezed with just enough pressure to make Koge wiggle, and though his hands weren’t as big as normal, they still had a good amount of strength. “Soaked through your shorts and taunting me until I decide to fuck you. You’re going to regret it.”

Struggling to breathe or make a single sound against the grip on her throat, Koge nodded, digging her nails into the skin of his thighs as she wiggled beneath him. “I’ll never regret it. I’m not the only one.” She slid one hand up, pressing and rubbing her thumb against Bakugou’s clit. “You’re just as wet as me. In fact, I think you’re worse. I can feel it on my stomach.”

Bakugou couldn’t stop the furrowing of his brow or the slight rocking of his hips, confusion flashing across his features at the feeling. The clit and the head of a penis were decently similar, that much Koge knew, but she was also positive that they had a totally different sensation. He had grown so used to being the one to pleasure her, to taking control and turning her into the cock hungry bitch that she was. But now, he didn’t have that, and Koge was very curious to see how he was going to handle all the new sensations and pleasures that he was unfamiliar with. He may have known what places on the female body prompted reactions, but he had no idea how it felt. That would be Koge’s ace, her way to turn it around and make him the one to twitch and writhe.

She wanted to see it so badly. Sure, Koge loved to be dominated by him, to be used and teased until she was filthy begging mess. But to tease him the same way, to use his temporary body to send him into the same bliss she felt was something she couldn’t resist. “Already wiggling your hips, Katsuki? I’m barely touching you.”

“Shut up!” Bakugou’s middle and third fingers found their way into her mouth, gagging her to silence her teasing. That didn’t stop her fingers, however, which moved in rhythm with the way he was stroking her own clit. What she couldn’t mimic, however, was the direct contact that Bakugou was able to achieve, his hand shoved into her shorts and underwear. “That’s it, you bitch… suck on my fingers while I make you cum.”

Although she wanted her chance, Koge couldn’t resist his demands, sucking and licking his fingers as if they were his member. Even though his hands weren’t as big, he didn’t lose any sense of technique, his fingers alternating from slipping into her cunt to rubbing her clit until she was moaning and squirming beneath him. She had completely forgotten about touching him, her hands once again gripping his hips as she had nothing else to anchor herself to. What she did notice however, was the way he grinded his hips against her stomach. It was just a slight movement, but it was enough for Koge to know exactly what he was doing. He was completely getting off on this, and that only turned Koge on more.

Soon enough, Koge did just as he had said, cumming hard on his fingers as her teeth clamped down around the others. Removing his hand from her shorts, he gave her cunt a firm slap, making her squeak and gag on the fingers still knuckle deep in her mouth. “Fuck, Utsuro, you’re so sexy. And such a little horny slut, cumming so fast.” As he set her mouth free, Koge took a moment to cough.

“How unfair, pinning me down so I can’t do anything to you. Still scared I’ll one up you?” She still didn’t have a chance to move as Bakugou shifted his body back between her legs, ripping her shorts and underwear off before gripping her legs behind the knee. With a push, he bent her legs over her body until her knees were on either side of her head, displaying her wet and throbbing cunt to him.

“I have to let you know what you’re up against.” He gave her thigh a harsh bite, making her whine. As his lips and teeth continued to leave marks and kisses along her skin towards her dripping sex, he groaned out in frustration, eyeing every inch of her. “Fuck, I want to sink my cock into you so badly. I know what it feels like and I can’t fucking have it.” Tongue reaching her clit, he sent her into another round of pleasure and senseless moaning, her fingers digging into his hair.

“I-I have a cock for us, Katsuki-- a-ah!! We just- oh fuck!” She gripped onto one leg as he released it, his fingers going in to pleasure her. His tongue on her clit and his fingers in her cunt drove her wild, making her nearly cum instantly again. “We have to p-pop your cherry first with s-something more- ah, something smaller.”

Bakugou became increasingly aggressive with his movements, as if he didn’t want to give her a single chance to talk. Sure enough, Koge was silenced by her moans, until he brought her to yet another body shaking ograsm. Panting and already feeling her body becoming sticky with sweat, she ignored his chuckles of smug victory, focused instead on the feeling of his hands sliding back up her thighs. Even with more slender hands, his touch sent goosebumps across her skin, as did his snarky commentary.

“Utsuro, you’d better have a fucking idea about what you’re doing. Because I haven’t been this fucking horny in a while, not since I fucked you in my office that last time.”

Smirk crossing her lips, Koge put her feet against his chest, giving him a rough push to force him to fall backwards. Ignoring his grumbles of protest, she moved to straddle his body as he had her before, plopping down to sit on his lower stomach. “What’s that, Katsuki? Are you actually begging?”

Snatching onto her thighs tightly, Bakugou glared up at her, though his face flushed with the feeling of her hands sneaking beneath his top. “I’m not begging for anything! I’m just fucking warning you, don’t even start this if you don’t think you can make me cum.”

“Don’t worry,” Koge leaned forward and kissed him sweetly as she pushed his tank up over his breasts, lightly trailing her fingers against the soft flesh. “One way or another, I’ll get you there. And if not, then when you’re back to normal, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.” With another, more passionate kiss, she assumed that the way he kissed her back as a positive response. Becoming more excited with his silent approval, Koge did her best to mimic the way he played with her breasts. She lacked his roughness, but her tender touch is what she knew he liked, anyway. The hardness of his nipples and the way he gasped into the kiss with each roll or pinch beneath her fingers told her that she had to be doing something right.

After a slight nibble to his bottom lip, Koge moved her kisses down across his jawline to his neck. They soon joined her hands at his breasts, making him gasp and tense up as her teeth clamped down around one nipple while the other was pinched between her fingers. Koge became rougher with this positive response, sucking, biting and rolling his nipples beneath her tongue. Shifting her body over to sit beside him instead, she continued with the attention to his breasts while one of her hands slipped beneath his shorts and underwear.

The first thing Koge noticed was how hot and wet he was. Without bottoms on to catch the liquid, she was positive that he would be nearly dripping. She hadn’t expected him to be this turned on, but in relation to the way he acted in his normal body, she guessed that it was a pretty even reaction. Before she touched him, she moved her lips back up to kiss him, wanting to watch his expressions. “Are you ready, my Katsuki?”

As he caught her gaze, Koge felt an intense fluttering of her heart and stomach, unable to believe how absolutely beautiful and flawless he was. His flushed cheeks and concerned furrow of his brow only made her want to pleasure him more, and as his face contorted with the first roll of that fleshy button beneath Koge’s fingers, her excitement only further boiled within her. His entire body trembled with just this delicate touch, and so she increased the pressure and speed of her rhythm, feeling the heat in her own body flare at the sweet moans that escaped him.

It was obvious to her, however, that he was trying very hard to not seem overwhelmed by the feeling. The way his body tensed and how he held his breath were clear indications that he wasn’t letting loose, and Koge couldn’t allow that.

With a quick kiss to his lips, which he seemed reluctant to let go, Koge changed up the direction of her fingers. In that moment of distraction from the kiss, Bakugou let out a sharp moan, before quickly trying to subdue it. Giving a small shake of her head, Koge kissed his cheek softly, before shifting her body between his legs. “That’s naughty, Katsuki. Don’t try to hold yourself back, that messes it up.”

“I don’t want to sound like a desperate horny bitch, Utsuro.” He shifted his hips up so Koge could slip his shorts and underwear off, not even bothering to be embarrassed about hiding himself. “I already hate the way I sound.”

“Don’t think about that.” Koge softly kissed her way down his stomach, giving him little bites and nibbles where she pleased. “Don’t hold your breath and don’t try to be quiet. No one can hear you but me. And I love the way you sound.” Hooking her arms beneath his legs to grip his hips, she ran her tongue along his sex, focusing all her attention on where her fingers had been before. Again, she used what he had always done to her as an example, instantly breaking his tough attitude into dust. His fingers dug into her hair as his body arched up into her, moaning without restraint.

“F-Fucking hell, Utsuro, take it easy!”

Giving a light nip to the swollen clit she was abusing, Koge couldn’t resist a smirk from crossing her lips as she gazed up his body. “This is me taking it easy, Katsuki. I think you’re just an extra sensitive woman. So cute.” Koge went right back to it, ignoring his choked complaint for her to not call him cute.

This was something completely different for her, but just like when she would suck his cock, her only goal was to pleasure him. If she could turn him into a groaning mess then, she could do it now, and from what she could tell she was doing just that. She loved the feeling of his fingers digging into her scalp, his body rocking against her rhythm and thighs squeezing against her head when there were sudden spikes of pleasure. She loved him, and no matter what he may look like, all she wanted was to make him happy.

In her moment of focus, her hand moved on unconscious impulse, adjusting her position just a bit to be able to slip two fingers into him. There was no resistance or pain as she expected. Instead, he gave an adorable squeak-like moan at the feeling, his body shuddering as his core squeezed her fingers. At first, Koge paused, worried she may have upset him until she felt a rough tug on her hair.

“Don’t stop, Utsuro, for fucks sake!”

Deciding not to punish him for being so demanding, she instead gave him what he wanted, continuing to pleasure him with her tongue and fingers. Within minutes, she could tell that he was getting very close, with the way his body moved and voice hitched.

“F-fuck, I-- Koge--,” Bakugou couldn’t talk behind his moans, his body beginning to give those taletell signs that he was about to cum. Without skipping a beat, Koge pushed him all the way over the edge, until his entire body with jerking and twitching with the onslaught of his first female orgasm. It was as if he lost all control over himself, his fingers affectionately stroking through her hair as he calmed, sweating and trembling. Smiling and licking her lips, Koge sat up from him, removing her fingers from within his still throbbing cunt.

“Mm… How was that, Katsuki?” Bringing her fingers up to her lips, she licked his essence off her fingers, finding that she quite liked the taste of him. Bakugou propped himself up on trembling arms, glaring up at her with obvious annoyance at her smug attitude.

“You know damn well, I’m not going to say it.”

“Do you want to be done?” Koge tenderly ran her hand up and down his inner thigh, watching his chest for a moment as he struggled to catch his breath. Bakugou’s brow furrowed at the question, his eyes glancing over at the nightstand which housed Koge’s collection of toys. He knew which one she had wanted to use, and now that it was quite obvious his body could accommodate such a thing without pain, he seemed… curious.

“What would you want to use?” Sitting up all the way, Bakugou caressed her cheek softly, moving some of her hair out of her face. Cheeks flushing from the tender touch, Koge turned her lips into his palm to kiss it softly before looking over at the nightstand as well.

“Well,” Koge placed her hand over is, her body tingling as his other hand moved up her thigh. “You know I have that one I bought on accident… That doubled ended dildo that I thought was like.. Two separate ones for some reason when I bought it.”

“Hm…” Bakugou urged her closer until she was straddling his lap, his arms around her petite body in a comforting embrace, his lips exploring her neck. “Is that what you want?”

Koge couldn’t resist a soft gasp at the feeling of his teeth nipping lightly at her skin, hiding her face into his hair as the fire within her grew stronger. “Katsuki, this has been and felt amazing as always, but I… I miss your cock so much. I miss feeling you inside me. A toy still can’t compare, but I think I need it to be satisfied… for now.”

“Then get it out. I can’t let you go unsatisfied, Utsuro. You know I refuse to let that happen.” Bakugou’s hands slid up her sides, taking hold of her shirt and pulling it up to remove it. His tank was removed shorty after, leaving them bare. “Unless I have plans to tease and edge you like crazy before leaving you hanging for a while.”

“Like you did this morning.” Koge kissed him sweetly before reluctantly peeling herself away from him, moving to the edge of the bed to dig through her nightstand drawer. Soon enough, the bright blue doubled ended and very realistic anatomy wise dildo appeared from the collection. “I got this one because it was so similar to your size. Widthwise, at least. But I didn’t realize it was like this.” She held the semi floppy toy out towards him, unable to resist giggling at the way he leaned his body away from it.

“My dick doesn’t look like this, Utsuro.” With some hesitation that Koge couldn’t quite understand, Bakugou took the end of the dildo that was pointed at him, giving it a squeeze to test its firmness.

Koge scooted in closer to him after she snatched another item from the nightstand, though she left it off to the side for now. “I didn’t say I got it for the way it looks. I got it for the size. How realistic it’s made is nice, too. Except for the color of course.”

“Why do you even want this when you can have my dick whenever you want?” Bakugou glowered down at her, seemingly quite offended. “What’s the deal?”

“You’re not always around, Katsuki. You have your business trips that can be up to three weeks that you’re gone! I get horny and lonely! What do you think I’m using when we sext or have phone sex, a pencil?” She snatched the toy from his grip, before giving him a punishing smack on the boobs for his stupid question. “I can barely get off using my fingers anymore, I need you, a dildo, a vibrator or a combination of the three.”

“You’re just a-”

“-A cock hungry slut. You’re right, I love dick. Your dick, to be specific. But,” With a sigh, Koge leaned back on one arm, picking up the other item she had pulled from the drawer a moment ago. Flicking the bottle open with her thumb, she squeezed a bit of the lube onto her hot and waiting sex, before using the dildo to spread it about and get a decent coating itself. “I’ll just have to use my imagination. Now come here, sit like me. Put your leg over mine, and I’ll put mine over yours… There.” While Bakugou got situation like instructed, Koge slipped the toy into her as far as it would go, her body tingling with the feeling of being full.

Once settled, Bakugou watched her with a flushed and almost confused expression, as if he were unsure how to go about this. “This is weird.”

“I know you’ve seen your fair share of lesbian porn, Katsuki. Here.” Koge shoved the lube into his hand, which he accidentally squeezed too hard in his embarrassed frustration, sending an excessive amount pouring over his inner thigh. Giggling, Koge ignored his frustrated cursing as she wiped up the liquid with her hand, leaning forward to kiss him as she spread it across his sex, unable to resist a bit of teasing to his clit. “You missed. It goes here, silly.”

“I fucking know where it goes, bitch.” Digging his fingers into her hair, he gripped it roughly, swallowing her gasp as he kissed her with a more fierce passion. His impatience to move on overshadowing hers, Koge scooted her body just a tad closer, letting him take control. First, he focused on moving the toy within her, making her moan and gasp into the kiss as she clutched onto his leg.

“Put it inside you, Katsuki,” Koge broke the kiss with her words, catching his gaze. “Please… I want to feel good together.”

Bakugou couldn’t take his eyes off her eyes as he complied, shifting his hips to allow his end of the toy to slip inside him. Koge smiled as she watched his expression contort, pleasure and confusion fighting to take control. It was as if he couldn’t resist it, beginning to rock his body nearly the instant it was fully in place. After sharing another kiss, Koge leaned back on her hands, following his rhythm. This was something that she had never experienced before, but the feeling of the toy moving within her and watching him crumble to the pleasure only further spiked her own.

It was clear that he didn’t know what to make of it, but was enjoying it nonetheless. Not just a little bit, either. He was taking full control of it all, setting the pace and even moaning without restraint.

“W-what do you think?” Koge found a moment to speak, beginning to feel that bubble growing inside of her. Instead of answering her with words, Bakugou surprised her with a sudden change of position, grabbing her by the neck and forcing her down onto her back as he hovered his body over hers. Clutching his arm, the new pressure around her throat and sudden increased speed sent her pleasure spiking. Now, she was completely at his mercy, which was exactly how they both preferred it.

“Yeah, I know you like that, you little horny bitch. Cum all over this cock, Utsuro.”

“Y-you first.” A sly smirk crossing her lips, Koge reached down to grab the middle part of the dildo that wasn’t going into them, clicking a hidden button three times to set it to it’s fastest vibration. Bakugou’s tough front instantly faltered, increasing the speed and roughness of his movements.

Koge had to admit, even though it was different, it was pure bliss. She never took her eyes off of him, if she wasn’t watching the way he moved than her eyes were on his face. The look of absolute desperation to reach climax and all willpower crumbling at the mercy of pleasure was something she could not only relate to, but also something she would never forget.

“I-I’m going to cum! Katsuki--” Her nails digging into the skin of his arm, she did her best to hold off, noticing that his movements were becoming erratic and almost stiff. “Cum with me!”

“S-shut up! I-- ah, fuck!” The way Bakugou’s voice squeaked as his body shuddered with his orgasm made Koge smile with her own, allowing her body to release the built up pleasure. It rolled across her body in strong waves, the vibrations only prolonging the experience. Bakugou couldn’t seem to take the excess stimulation, removing the toy from himself and thus from within her, pushing it away as if it were causing harm. Koge giggled softly at the action, reaching up to caress his cheeks.

“Come here, you adorable thing. Love of my life.” She wrapped her arms around Bakugou as he rested himself down onto her, though he kept most of his weight on his arms. With a tired groan, he buried his face into her neck, giving Koge easy access to run her fingers through his hair.

“No more,” He grumbled against her skin. “How can you have five or more of those in a session.”

Koge gave a small shrug, prompting him to shift himself back up to look down at her. “I’m used to it, I guess. And you just make it so easy, just by being your amazing sexy self.”

“Damn right.” After sharing a kiss, Bakugou let his lips trail across her cheek and to her neck, caressing her body to his with a tender touch that sent Koge’s heart fluttering. As he moved them to lay on their sides, Koge nuzzled her face into his chest, soaking in the warmth and soft plushness of his body.

The time spent cuddling was short lived as Bakugou suddenly pulled himself from the bed, snatching his discarded clothes off the floor and putting them back on. Curious, Koge rolled over onto her side to watch him, though she quickly understood what he was doing as he pulled his arms up over his head to stretch. “You’re still going to work out?”

“Fuck yes I am. I didn’t sweat nearly enough form that fuck, I have to sweat more to get this quirk out of my damn system.”

So he did, working out until he was quite literally dripping with sweat. He did so for about an hour and a half, with Koge watching from the comfortable confines of their bed, her fluffy fleece blanket wrapped around her from chin to toe. Once he was satisfied that he had worked himself to the limit, he hopped into the shower with Koge, whom spent most of the time under the water playing with Bakugou’s breasts. At this point, he was so tired that he gave up after slapping her hands away a couple of times, letting her do whatever she wanted.

Squeaky clean and dressed for bed, the couple buried themselves beneath the blankets. With a bit of juggling of positions and figuring out how to lay down comfortably with his breasts in the way, Bakugou squeezed Koge to him tightly. Koge couldn’t resist the smile on her face as he nuzzled his face into the side of hers, placing a firm yet affectionate kiss on her flushed cheek. “Mm, someone’s really sleepy. My sweet Katsuki…” Turning her head a bit, she caught his lips in a kiss, caressing his cheek softly. Bakugou returned the affection without question, though he did scoff once their lips parted.

“Shut up, Utsuro. Before I kick your ass out of bed.”

“You’d never.” Her fingers trailed along his jawline softly, keeping her gaze locked with his as she smiled against his lips. “Besides, we both know you like it when I’m all lovey towards you. Admit it.”

“I couldn’t be in love with you if I didn’t.”

Heart fluttering, she gave him one last kiss before cuddling herself in for sleep, her head resting comfortably on the swell of his breasts. “Mm… Boobs really are comfortable.”

“Well enjoy them, because I expect to be normal by morning.”

“I’ll have my big strong man back. Though, this is something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Such fun.”

“It wasn’t fun, Utsuro.”

“Lies. You had fun. It wasn’t as fun as when I was a cat girl, but I still enjoyed it. And I know you did, too. At least a little.”

“Whatever… Shut up and go to sleep.”

“I love you.”

With another affectionate kiss to the top of her head, Bakugou kept her close, filling Koge with such a strong sense of pure adoration. “I love you, too, Koge. I can’t wait to be back to myself in the morning…”

The couple fell into a deep and restful sleep, with no alarm and no sense of urgency waking them up. What did pull Koge into consciousness, however, was the sudden pleasurable feeling of being full. A familiar form within her core sent that blissful tingling across her skin, forcing her to clutch onto the sheets and moan into her pillow. On her stomach, she could feel the weight of her lover at her hips, straddling her legs as his manhood filled her. How long he had been playing with her, she didn’t know nor did she care. All she could do was lift her hips up into him, feeling him reach into her depths like no toy on earth ever could. He was so hot and eager, his burning palms on her ass sending fire through every inch of her body.

“Someone’s finally awake,” That deep growl of his voice made Koge’s heart flutter, opening her eyes to peer up at him over her shoulder. Bakugou was indeed back to his old self, his gorgeous muscular body looming over her. “I nearly had you cumming in your sleep just from fingering you.”

Nearly feeling like he was reaching all the way into her stomach, Koge’s entire body was aching for him to move. “That’s mean, Katsuki… Not even waking me up to enjoy the fun.”

“Who says I didn’t try? It’s not my fault you sleep like a fucking rock.” With that, he began to rock his hips, slowly and teasingly working himself within her. Unable to resist, Koge arched her hips up a bit more, an airy sigh of pleasure leaving her lips.

“You just couldn’t wait, huh? Not that I can blame you… Fuck, it’s so hot… So deep--” A sharp moan interrupted her as he gave a rough thrust of his hips, picking up his pace as he leaned his body over her. After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek, he moved his lips to her ear, his voice nearly making her cum already.

“Shut up, Utsuro… Now that I’m normal, it’s time for me to get you back for all that bullshit you put me through yesterday. So… tell me how good my cock feels inside you, and maybe I’ll give you what you’ve been missing.”

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