#second i draw more body (especially men. look at red)

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

appleshipping (gameverse edition) ❤️💚

#that moment when your two childhood friends ditched you because they're dating each other now (blue) #here comes the obligatory diary styled rambling #im so giddy over red rn ❤️ #today wasnt such a pleasant day sadly #so i tried to keep my mind off of it by coloring this draft i had #feel better now #i love red ❤️ #im quite proud of this. id say this entire piece has accomplished 3 things i had in mind for my new years resolution #first. i draw more full body especially two people #second i draw more body (especially men. look at red) #and thirdly i always wanted to do a page doodle - and i did it #i want to try this again - with steven perhaps 💙 #i love my champion boyfriends a lot #pipino never leaves red and jaide ❤️ #~ art #♥️ appleshipping #selfship #jaide (gameverse).insert

[b00kdiary]

Better Than Any Fantasy | Ruhn Danaan + Tristan Flynn

Ruhn Danaan x Tristan Flynn x Plus Size Reader

Y/N’s been avoiding Flynn like the plague, and Ruhn knows why and is more than happy to tell him. Especially when that conversation leads to something much better than any of them could have hoped for.

Here's to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some SJM men love too xo

Warnings: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, eventual smut and the Ruhn and Flynn being utterly infatuated with their thick, beautiful lady.

MASTERLIST

“Ruhn!” The sound that escapes Y/N is like sunlight, the kind of goodness that could be bottled up and sold, a cure for the worst and darkest parts of a person’s nature. “Seriously, how can I flip the pancakes if you won’t let me go?”

“Then forget the pancakes,” I grin against the column of her throat, inhaling the feminine scent of her as I hold her to my chest, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her stomach, keeping her giggling figure close. “We both know they’re going to taste like shit anyway.”

“Asshole! I can’t believe you!” Y/N exclaims, slapping my hand but she does mercifully drop the spoon in her hand, pouting as she turns off the gas, saving us from having to grin and bear through eating them. “Well, no pancakes for you- The Crown Prince can starve.”

“Ouch, that hurts Princess,” I croon, smirking as I turn her to face me, my hands running along her lush body, down to her soft ass, “Looks like I’m going to have to satiate my appetite some other way then.”

“Really?” She whispers, biting her lip and I can smell her arousal in the air, my smirk deepening at the way her chest rises and falls fast, and she clamps her thick thighs shut, trying to stop the ache between them.

“Really,” I slowly nod my head, watching as her eyes flutter shut as I kiss her cheek, peppering and trailing my tongue over her jaw up to her lips. She gasps into the kiss, her back arching into the counter behind her and it takes everything in me to not lift her onto the edge and feast on the sweetness between her thighs.

I slip my tongue into her mouth, tasting the bittersweet hues of vanilla and coffee and it ignites something in my chest, a dark and intense pulse that burns all the way down to my cock, already hard and throbbing against my jeans.

My fingers curl around the curve of her ass, my nails digging in hard enough to make Y/N moan, and I revel in the feeling of her large tits pressed against my chest, and her stomach too, so comfortable and perfect moulding against me.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall toward the kitchen has Y/N halting, and the second her hands push gently at my chest, and her lips draw away from mine, I groan. She giggles at the dejection in my voice, on my face, before pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek as she peels herself away from me- those footsteps infinitely closer now.

“You really have the worst fucking timing, Flynn,” I spit, my dark eyes lifting over Y/N's head, to the brown-haired, golden-skinned pretty boy smirking as he leans against the door pane, looking more than amused at my irate glare.

“By all means, please continue,” Flynn shrugs nonchalantly, teasing us but my lip quirks up at the way Y/N’s body freezes, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of red at Flynn’s words- at the secret between us that made her so perfectly embarrassed.

“Hm, what do you think Y/N?” I mutter gently, my breath running warm against her cheek, and I have to bite my lip to force down my bellowing laughter at the murderous scowl she gives me.

“I need to go get ready, I’m meeting Bryce in a few,” She bites back, ignoring my knowing stare as she pushes at my chest, brushing past me, the stains of red deepening as her gaze meets Flynn’s, before immediately looking away.

“Hey, Y/N,” Flynn smiles softly, but his brow furrows as he takes in her fast-paced footsteps and the way her head is pointed down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Hi, Flynn,” Y/N mumbles back quietly, and before he can open his mouth to speak again, she’s rushing past him, her curvy body curling in on itself like a flower so as not to feel every inch of him against her.

I fold my arms over my chest, trying to blanket my expression as her footsteps bound away and Flynn stares after her, his face a mixture of hurt and confusion, so unlike the usual carefree nonchalance and humour we were used to.

“Okay- she’s barely said five words to me in days, any room I enter she leaves, and she can’t even look me in the eyes,” Flynn frowns, frustration locking his jaw as he comes to lean against the counter-top, staring at me in expectance. “What the hell did I do wrong?”

“You’ve noticed all of that, huh?” I muse, cocking my head at him, and the way his frown deepens, and he leans forward makes me smile. “She’s not upset with you, Flynn. But she is distracted- she sees you and her mind turns to something I said.”

“And what exactly would that be?” He demanded, folding his arms across his muscled chest, seemingly relieved that Y/N wasn’t angry with him, but the glint in his eyes had sharpened, and I knew he was interested, knew he couldn’t help but be intrigued by my devilish smile.

“Well…” I run my tongue across my teeth, my mind racing back to that night four days ago, and Flynn’s eyes darken with shadows as I recall every last detail.

“Ruhn,” Y/N moans, her head tossing back to rest against my shoulder, and I nibble on her earlobe as I fuck my hips up into her, the sound of her wetness mixing with her breathless gasps driving me insane.

I groan as she rolls her hips, my fingers gripping into the meaty flesh of her thighs and hips, guiding her back and forth, up, and down, and the feel of her back and ass pressed against my sweaty bare chest is like heaven.

“Don’t stop, please, please,” She pinches her eyes shut, and I love the sight of her face as she takes me, the TV light casting over her, highlighting every expression she makes- every time she bites her lips, or rolls her eyes, or opens her mouth to release the most delicious sound for me.

“Look at you, such a good girl, so fucking polite,” I croon, my right hand sliding up to cup her heavy breast, bouncing wildly with her movements, and I grin as I pinch her pebbled nipple, rewarded with another whimpered moan from her. “And yet you’re riding me like a slut right now, making a mess of my cock and in the living room, for anyone to come in and see.”

“Oh fuck,” Y/N cries, her body sweating and her breathing erratic and I know her peak is close, know by the way her knees start to give out, her fingers cutting into my arm as she tries to anchor herself. I chuckle, my voice low with headiness and I take it upon myself to drive up into her faster, deeper, to hit that spot that has her seeing stars.

“Bet you’d love that, huh?” I mutter, kissing her neck, running my canines down her throbbing pulse point, “Bet you’d love for someone to walk in right now, to watch you get fucked like a good little slut, your entire body on display.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” She nods her head erratically, fucked dumb and swimming in the clouds of her mind as I slip in and out of her, her wetness almost ridiculous, her walls clenching me so goddamn tight.

“Yeah? Does my Princess want an audience, does she want to be watched?” She gasps as I bite against her sweet spot, that hurt turning to pleasure as I lap my tongue there, feeling her racing pulse. “What if someone came in right now… what if Flynn came in right now, you want him to watch? Or do you want him to join?”

The whimper that escaped her at my dark words surprised me, the way her entire body arched and trembled against me surprised me- because she did want that.

“Huh? You want him to join? You want to get fucked and worshipped by me and my best friend?” The idea makes my core burn, and I know we’re both reaching that climax, that euphoric tipping point where she comes around my cock, suffocating me and milking me dry. “Answer me, Y/N, or I’ll stop.”

“Ruhn,” She pleads with me, and the sound almost makes me give in, give her what she wants, but I don’t relent and when my hips start to slow down, pausing, she groans, and the satisfaction that fills me as she nods her head, almost makes me finish right there. “Yes! Yes, yes, I want that, Ruhn, I want that.”

“Want what? Be specific, Princess,” I coax, groaning, guttural and low as I move inside her, her pussy throbbing around me, her body so happy, so fucking relieved at the feeling of me moving again. “Tell me.”

“I want you a-and Flynn, I want-want to be watched,” Her voice is shaking as she speaks, the sound of her ass slapping back against me so lewd in the air, and I have to grit my teeth at the pressure building in my gut. “I want you both- to touch me an-and fuck me, I want you t-to worship my body.”

“That’s my girl,” I praise, knowing that my encouragement was feeding into her pleasure, heightening it and I know she’s imagining the both of us fucking devouring her, “bet you'd look so good with his cock stuffed in your pretty mouth, or fucking in and out of this tight cunt,"

My cock, my words, the images tip her over that edge with a devastating cry.

“Ruhn, Ruhn, Ruhn-“

“That’s why she’s avoiding you, Flynn,” I state hoarsely, ignoring the way my cock aches, the image of her body and the feeling of being inside her tormenting me now that I’d opened that box up, allowing myself to remember it. “Because when she sees you, she pictures that fantasy all over again.”

“Shit,” Flynn mutters and I recognise the roughness in his voice, recognise the intense, unsatiated gleam in his eyes and the way his entire body has gone hard with restraint. He’s imagining her- her body, her tits, her cunt, her mouth, and everything he could do to her.

I would’ve thought the idea of my best friend fantasising about my girl would make me furious, make me murderously jealous and yet, the more I thought about it, the better it all seemed.

“So, Flynn,” I know he sees the challenge in my eyes, the hot mischief as I grin at him, and I see his brows raise in shock, in interest, as I lean forward. “How do you like the idea?”

***

“Ruhn?” I call, my heels clicking against the floor as I walk down the dimly lit corridor toward Ruhn’s room, my voice echoing through the silence of the empty house. “Hello? Ruhn?”

My phone beeps in my hand, startling me, and I pause a few yards from his ajar door, not hearing the familiar sound of my boyfriend's voice or any other person's voice for that matter. I click open our text thread, and heat instantly fills my body.

‘Come inside, shut the door behind you and close your eyes- no peeking.’

Another game. Ruhn loved his games, loved watching me pant and sweat and blush under his ministrations and my body pulsed in excitement, knowing that as long as I followed his rules, as long as I played my part, I would get my reward.

I bite my lip, discarding my phone on top of the bookcase outside his door and my knees felt weak as I slowly walked over, the anticipation clogging the air. I close my eyes as I step over the threshold, my hand on the doorknob as I close it behind me, the wood creaking before clicking firmly shut.

It was a mixture of terrifying and thrilling, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, but knowing that he was in here with me. That his eyes were on me, watching me, smiling, his gaze running over every inch of me as I stood there.

I hear footsteps echo against the floor, getting louder, and closer, and my nipples harden, the crisp air feeling hot and thick in the silence- knowing he was coming, what he would do, heightened everything.

“Always so obedient,” Ruhn’s voice ran over me like a caress, prickling my skin and I shivered under it, knowing he was inches from me. I swallow as his cold hand traced up the sleeve of my dress, moving slowly before resting against my chest, right over my thundering heart. “Nervous? Or excited?”

“Both,” I whisper, my voice breaking under the pressure of it all, his fingers teasing against my hot skin, barely touching me and yet it felt like I could feel him everywhere.

“Good,” He praised, and I inhaled as he slipped his hand into mine, tugging me forward. I followed, blindly, obediently, walking forward as he led me further into the room before eventually stopping, likely only a few feet from his bed.

His hand slipped from mine and the need to open my eyes intensified, the desire to see him almost overwhelming, especially as he circled me, like a predator, not speaking as he came to stand behind me, his hands clamped down like a vice on my waist.

“Do you want to open your eyes, Princess?” He whispers against my ear, and I can smell the mixture of alcohol and apples on his breath, it intoxicated me, and I whimpered quietly, arching my ass into his already hard cock.

“Yes, yes please,” With anyone else I would have been mortified by how my voice shook, at how desperate and helpless I sounded, but not with Ruhn, no, I couldn’t ever feel anything but thrill and need and comfort when with him.

“I think you’ve more than earned your reward,” Ruhn nibbles against my ear, his favourite tactic to make me dizzy, to fill my head with clouds, distracting me wholly. “Go ahead, open your eyes for me, Y/N.”

I inhale once, deep and steadying, and then with a long, slow exhale, I flutter my eyes open.

And my heart stops in my chest.

“Flynn?” I choke out his name, jumping at the sight of him sitting on the bed before me, leaning back on his strong arms, his eyes racking over me like I was prey, “What the fuck?”

“Breathe, just for a second, breathe,” Ruhn instructs from behind me, and my body seems to melt into calm, melt into him. It was as if I were predestined to trust him, to obey his words. I force the air back into my lungs as I stare at Flynn, my body shaking at the look in his eyes- for me.

“I don’t understand,” I mutter, my throat drying out as I glance over my shoulder up at Ruhn, to the pleased smile he wore. I watch as his gaze meets Flynn’s and something passes between them, some unspoken conversation I wasn’t privy to. “Tell me, Ruhn.”

“Flynn was upset that you’ve been avoiding him, he thought he had done something wrong,” Ruhn informs me, looking far too smug. It would have annoyed me if I didn’t feel so guilty for hurting Flynn. “I was more than happy to fill him in on the real reason you were being so distant.”

The real reason. That night, Ruhn’s words, his taunting, seductive, torturous words that have me picturing it all again- Flynn and Ruhn, all over me, touching me, tasting me, fucking me, absolutely ruining me.

“I see you remember it well,” Ruhn chuckles- the prick was taunting me, and I almost hated myself for how my body responded, how my arousal scented through the air, so obvious to the two arrogant males before me. “And we wondered if that certain fantasy was one, we could fulfil for you, Y/N."

“Oh,” It was an idiotic response, one that Ruhn would no doubt endlessly mock me about later, but I was speechless, breathless, my entire being trembling and weak at his words, at the insinuation, nervous under Ruhn’s watchful eyes.

“Is that something you would like, Y/N?” Ruhn mutters, and I sigh as he runs his nose down the vein of my neck, inhaling the scent of me. My eyes glanced to Flynn, patiently waiting, and the sweet smile he wore told me it was all up to me.

“Is- is that something you would want us to do, Ruhn?” My voice is weary as I glance back at him, and upon seeing the fear and concern in my eyes, that he would think I wasn’t happy with him, Ruhn smiles- one that warms my heart.

“I’m yours and you’re mine, Y/N, always,” He kisses my cheek, tenderly, and it’s enough to drive me mad, “But that doesn't mean I can't share, in fact, I'm more than willing to see you being pleasured by us both."

Excitement and thrill- that was always what I felt with Ruhn.

“Then yes,” I breathe the words and instantly the air in the room changes, the two males change and the predators in them, the hunters in them, the instinct of the Fae comes roaring out, their eyes latching onto me.

A low, rumbling sound reverberated through Ruhn’s chest and I felt it vibrate through me, straight to my thrashing heartbeat. I clench my hands as Ruhn turns my face toward his, and the second his lips connect with mine, every worry withers away.

I melt into the way his tongue laps against mine, smooth and graceful, so skilled in making something as simple as a kiss feel as intimate and real as when he fucks me, and it makes me just as wet.

“Why don’t we show Flynn here what’s under this dress, hm?” Ruhn muses against my lips, and I can feel Flynn’s intense stare and it’s almost terrifying how still he is. “Let him see what he's been fantasising about all day."

I gnaw on my lip, nodding my head and turning to watch Flynn’s reaction. Ruhn begins to tug at the zipper at the back, and immediately Flynn’s beautiful face turns lethal, feral, sharpening in a way that made me clamp my legs shut, so desperate to stop the ache there.

He tugs the zipper to the end, and together, we pull the material down my arms and chest, letting it slip over my wide hips and thighs before it pools to the floor at my feet.

“Shit,” Flynn curses, his jaw locking hard enough I can hear his teeth grating, and at that moment, wearing nothing but a black bra and panties, I’m glad that I hadn’t chosen something silly or unflattering to wear today- because he was looking at me like I was the beautiful one.

“I know,” Ruhn says, agreeing with his best friend, his brother, and my cheeks heat at the pride in his voice, the sheer masculine satisfaction. He was pleased with Flynn’s reaction, pleased that his chest was racing wildly, that his throat bobbed as he traced over my skin, pleased at the hard length imprinted against the seam of his jeans. “She looks even better without these on.”

Nausea fills me at the thought of Ruhn unclipping my bra and slipping off my underwear, nausea at the idea of being wholly naked before Flynn, every single curve and roll and stretch mark, all my cellulite and uneven skin and bumps on display.

It had taken me a long time to be comfortable enough for Ruhn to see me naked, and I loved him. Letting Flynn see me that vulnerable seemed like such a big leap to take.

"Is that alright, Y/N?" Flynn asked, and the tenderness in his face almost made me sob, the kind and thoughtful gleam in his eyes that told me that I could trust him told me that he would respect any choice I made.

"It's alright," I nod slowly, pushing down the insecurity and when Ruhn's gentle hands move to the clasp of my bra and he unhooks it, letting my aching breasts fall free of the material, I'm glad for that choice.

I recalled Flynn once stating he was a tits-over-ass man, and right now I could tell he was being honest. I watched as he ran a hand over his jaw, his gaze flickering back and forth between both of my breasts, a deep groan escaping him at the sight of them.

Ruhn chuckles, far too happy as he kneels behind me, his fingers gently hooking into the material of my underwear and began slowly tugging it down, over the curve of my ass and my wide hips, down my thighs, the material getting stuck between the places that touched and eventually down to the floor.

I curled my hands into fists, my nails cutting into my palms as Ruhn held onto each calf and slipped off my heels, one by one, and I giggled at the sound of him tossing the shoes behind us, my clothes and underwear flung back to some faraway corner as well.

"You were right, Ruhn," Flynn states roughly, his tongue lapping out to wet his lips, and I smiled under his eyes, the way they moved over me, over every inch, not blanching at any of me. "She's definitely better without anything on."

Ruhn stood behind me again, running his fingers up and down the length of my back, and something in me purred.

“I think Flynn should get a better look," I mutter, my confidence spiking as I glance back to Ruhn and his smirk is proud, arrogantly proud, "Or a better feel?"

The air went taut as I sauntered toward him, Flynn looking almost nervous as I came to a stop before him, staring down at his perfect form. I place a hand on each of his broad shoulders, my knees weak as I climb onto the mattress, his hands not hesitating to grab my waist and guide me to straddle his lap.

My sore nipples brush against the material of his shirt and my wet, aching core sits perfectly over the seam of his zipper igniting red, hot embers through my entire body. Flynn remains silent as he stares at me, his hands moving over my naked hips and thighs, waiting for me to make the first move.

Even if I could hear his heart racing, his eyes telling me that he was on the very precipice of his control.

"Kiss me, Flynn."

And by Cthona, he kisses me.

The way Flynn kisses is different to Ruhn, his mouth moves against me, all tongue, and teeth, suckling and biting and tasting, and I moan into it, relishing every second of him devouring me, every second of his hands all over me, palming and kneading my flesh, slapping, and clawing at my ass.

“Fuck me, Y/N,” Flynn growls in appreciation and I don’t have a second of reprieve as he kisses down my neck hastily, not hesitating to pluck a nipple into his mouth and suck at the taut bud. Gasps slip past my lips as he rolled it, bit it, lapped at it, the nerves alight as he moved between each, looking damn near giddy as he toyed with them.

The ache between my legs intensifies as he sucks at my breasts and I start rocking back and forth to ease the feeling, the material of his jeans and the hardness of his cock underneath rubbing against my puffy clit perfectly.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Ruhn muses from behind us, and my eyes flutter as I glance at him, moving to sit on the bed beside us, his shirt gone and stars gleaming in his eyes as he watches us. "The poor girls rutting against your clothed cock, Flynn, give her what she wants."

"And what do you want? Hm?" Flynn taunts, trailing his tongue over my nipple, his dewy eyes looking up at me as he does so, and I groan at the sight, and at the hold he has on my hips, halting any movement I try and make.

“Your fingers,” I croak, gripping his large hand and watching his breath catch as I drag it down my stomach, whimpering as I run his calloused fingers over my wet folds. “Right here.”

“You’re going to kill me,” He snarls, and my eyes clamp shut when he circles my clit, firm and sure, his fingers knowing exactly how hard and fast to go, and he has me arching my back and moaning, glad for the hand he had keeping me from toppling over. Flynn smiles, kissing my lips and cheeks, moving his fingers against my clit faster.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly my orgasm seemed to approach, and I knew I wouldn’t last long, not as that fire fanned in my core, edged on by every smooth flick of his fingers at my clit.

“You wanna come, Y/N?" Ruhn asks darkly and when my head turns, I see him palming his hard cock over his jeans, the muscles in his chest clenching and flexing in restraint, watching his best friend finger his girlfriend, and loving every second of it. "Be a good girl and ask Flynn if he'll let you."

"Please, please," I mewl loudly, my head throwing back as Flynn slips two fingers into my sopping cunt, the friction of him fucking his fingers in and out forcing me closer and closer to that edge, "Please, Flynn, let me come."

"So polite, asking me so nicely," Flynn croons and my thighs quake when he crooks his fingers inside me, pressing that magic button that has a swarm spreading through my stomach and core. "How could I possibly say no?"

He hooks his fingers against that spot again, and again, and his thumb brushes my clit and before I know it, I’m falling off the edge of a cliff.

“Flynn, oh-“ I cry out as his fingers drive into me repeatedly, hitting a spot that has my core exploding, hitting me hard and fast and lasting so long that my head starts to spin.

“Atta girl,” Flynn praises, and I feel his smile against my skin as he slows his fingers inside me, feeling every pulse and quake of my orgasm, before slowly slipping them out of me.

I sag forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder for support as I catch my breath, tendrils of release still coiling through me and gradually melting into oblivion. Flynn’s touch is soft across my back, waiting for me to come back down to Midgard.

“How are you feeling, Princess?” Ruhn asks quietly, his hand running through my messy hair, brushing it from my sweaty face and hooking the strands behind an arched ear. I flutter my eyes and meet both their gazes and again, that vicious, relentless monster of need rears its head.

“I feel like I want more,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and the heat that filled their eyes made my entire body ache. “Please.”

“Shit, Ruhn, you weren’t lying when you said she was a good girl,” Flynn growls and I giggle when his hands clamp down on my hips, lifting me with ease to sit on the bed between them both, the two of them rising from their seats. “She does deserve all the praise and rewards.”

“That’s my girl,” Ruhn winks at me and my cheeks burn at his words, joy and shyness filling me at the smile both males wore, looking at me like I was a fucking dream come true. “Move back on the bed, Y/N, we’ll give you what you want,”

Flynn chuckles as I rush to do so, my tits bouncing as I crawl backwards toward the headboard, stopping when I’m in the middle of the bed, space on either side of me.

My mouth waters as the two boys before me begin to reach for their clothes. I watch as Flynn unbuttons his shirt, one by one, almost agonisingly slow before he peels the material off his body revealing inches of muscle and rippling packs.

Where Ruhn was slender and lean, with hard abs and glorious tatted skin, Flynn was bigger, corded muscle and a six-pack for days. My pussy soaked at the sight of them both, grinning like they knew what they were doing to me.

I bite my lip hard enough to hurt as they both reach for their pants, the only sound in the air is my haughty breaths, the clinking of their unlocked belts and the sound of two zippers gracefully sliding down.

I whimper at the sight, a high-pitched, needy sound that makes them both look at me, Flynn raising an amused brow as he reaches down, tugging off his jeans and throwing them to the side, Ruhn following suit.

They were big, both of them. Big and thick, gloriously hung with strong veins and white pearly pre-cum leaking down their tips.

It took me a long time to adjust to Ruhn’s size, and even now my pussy was always too tight, always wrapped around him so painfully that he said it was the sweetest torture. And as I eyed Flynn’s cock, saw how red and angry it looked, I knew he would feel the same.

“Such a pretty girl,” Ruhn muttered, his blue eyes darkening to a tidal wave, a terrifying tsunami as he rounded the bed, his body glorious under the lights as he climbed onto the mattress, settling just behind me. “So, fucking pretty, right Flynn?”

“I can’t argue with you there, Ruhn,” Flynn smirks, and my thighs clench when he crawls onto the bed, his cock rising and hard as he settles just before me, looking down at me like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “I’m very jealous of your boyfriend, Y/N.”

He runs his hands up my calves, his touch bare as he moves up and down, going as high as my hip bone before swiftly moving back down, all the way to my ankles.

“Poor Flynn,” Ruhn laughs, and I groan as his hand slips around my neck, curling his fingers to grip my jugular, tipping my head back to meet his face above me, “You wanna help make our friend feel better, Princess?”

I grin, and Ruhn’s face is a mirror of mine as his hand slips away and I roll over and onto my front, my knees spreading and ass arching into the air. Flynn’s breath audibly catches, and the sound he makes is animal, purely Fae, at the sight of my pussy wet and bare, waiting for him.

“Flynn,” I mewl, my head sagging forward and resting against Ruhn’s stomach as Flynn runs his hands over my ass, scratching and fondling the flesh, but he doesn’t move further. “Please just fuck me, I can’t wait-“

“There we go,” Ruhn mutters and I can hear his grin as Flynn rubs his tip over my wet fold and before I can even moan, he’s pushing the head into my entrance, choking on a rough laugh as my pussy immediately sucks him in.

The sounds that escape me are high-pitched and restless as Flynn shoves the rest of his length inside me, not being gentle or slow, and I’m glad for it. Glad for the way he stretches me so thoroughly, glad that I can feel him sink all the way in, brushing a spot far and deep inside.

“Gods above,” Flynn growls, his nails cutting into the flesh of my ass as he draws himself out, nearly to the tip before plunging back in, the sound of skin slapping and my wetness making Ruhn groan. He swears lowly, watching as I suck up his length inch by inch, starting to move faster against me now.

Ruhn runs his hands over my hair, his face full of pride as he watches me kneel before him, my body wrecking back and forth, my tits bouncing as Flynn pounds into me, our moans a melody.

“Ruhn, Ruhn,” I plead, my wide eyes meeting his and he runs his thumb over my lip, a knowing gleam in his eyes, “Fuck my mouth, baby please, fuck my mouth.”

He didn’t say anything, nor did he wait, and my entire body trembled as his fingers gently collected my hair behind me, easily guiding me over his erect cock, waiting so patiently before me, and I closed my eyes as he brushed the tip over my lips and then pushed into my mouth.

“Shit, Y/N,” Ruhn groaned as he fisted my hair, guiding my head up and down his shaft, hitting the back of my throat more than once. I gagged and then moaned, Flynn spreading my thighs wider, and sinking deep into a tender spot within me.

There was so much spit drooling from my mouth, making a mess of Ruhn’s cock and stomach as he bucked his hips up, fucking my mouth just the way I liked, and as Flynn moved behind me in tandem, his cock slipping in and out, in and out, relentlessly, I was a whimpering, breaking mess.

It felt so good, felt so fucking right getting fucked at either end of me, and Ruhn swore, his body twitching as I moaned around his cock, the sound vibrating through him, bringing him closer and closer to that sweet edge.

“Shit, Y/N, shit,” Flynn gasped, his voice rasping and hoarse, breathless as he gripped my ass, as he had his way with me, still so painfully big but the hurt felt good, brought me closer to my end. “Look at that pussy, wrapped around me so fucking tight.”

His words encouraged me, and I suckled against Ruhn’s cock harder, tasting the familiar saltiness of his pre-cum, loving the ache of his fingers yanking at my hair, the pain at odds with the fullness of Flynn pounding into me, that dam inside me starting to fill.

“Princess, I’m not gonna last,” Ruhn warns, his fingers tightening in my hair, his hips stuttering, and I take it upon myself to get him there, to hear him moan my name as I suck against him, hard and fast, hollowing my cheeks and taking him even further down my throat. “Oh fuck- Y/N.”

He growls an animalistic, rugged sound that echoes through the whole room and makes my clit throb, his body jerking as I feel the warm, salty liquid squirt from his cock straight down my throat. I swallow, I always swallow, moaning happily as I do.

“Flynn, I’m so close,” I call out, Ruhn’s semi-hard cock resting against his stomach now and my face burying into his hip, feeling the tender touch of my boyfriend's hand in my hair, so opposing to the brutal, bruising hold of Flynn behind me.

“Me too, Y/N,” Flynn hissed, his cock starting to hammer into me quicker, and I can barely stop the shaking in my knees. I gasp when his thumb reaches around me, rubbing messily at my clit, and the angle changes, moving further and every single touch is too fucking much.

“There, there, there-“ I call out again and again and again, teeth biting against Ruhn’s thigh, something he fucking loves, as I’m hit with my release, a wildfire that starts at my core, and just erupts, moving through my veins and blood and bones and I can’t stop the sounds coming from me.

Flynn’s hips start to falter, curses endlessly falling from his lips as my pussy clenches around him like a vice, so tight and unyielding that he roars, stilling and growling as his cock spills inside me, filling me up.

Pleasure, hot and white and blinding, dying out so slow as Flynn moves inside me gradually, spreading his hot cum all over me, and it all feels like heaven.

I huff out a huge breath of air, my eyes clamped shut and head spinning and when Flynn ever so gently slips out of me, his hands holding onto the flesh of my hips and guiding me to turn and lay flat on my back, I don’t even fight it.

Pure exhaustion riddles me, so much so, that I lay there, my head against Ruhn’s thigh and my body trembling and weak against the mattress, unable to stop how my core throbs with the aftermath of my orgasm.

I blink open my eyes after several seconds and I’m met with the two males before me, their eyes returned to their usual bright shades of blue and brown, and their lips tilted up, sweet and wonderful as ever.

We’re all covered in sweat and panting, but as Ruhn look down at me from behind, and Flynn sits between my legs, rubbing at my weak thighs, I know we’re all fucked out- for now.

“Did that live up to the fantasy?” Ruhn mutters, his smile adoring as he brushes the hair free from my sweaty forehead, his fingers so gentle as he rubs the spots on my scalp he had yanked at before.

“Better than any fantasy,” I breathe, my cheeks hot as I grin, and Ruhn’s eyes brighten as he takes me in. I gnaw on my cheek, glancing forward to Flynn, his eyes never once leaving mine, “And for you, Flynn?”

“I agree, Y/N,” He smirks, his grip tightening around my thigh, and the look is so telling, that even Ruhn laughs, “So much so that I’ve got a few more fantasies that we could try.”

----------

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

#crescent city #ruhn danaan #tristan flynn #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan smut #ruhn x plus size reader #acotar #plus size reader #smut #throne of glass smut #plus size y/n #crescent city smut #sarah j maas #sjm books #ruhn danaan x tristan flynn x reader #plus size smut #plus size girl

[antimonyandthyme]

omggggg can’t wait to see you start to explore more of vettonso!! i’m absolutely love these two old men trying to comfort each other:))))….

here you go anon :)))))))))

“Slow down,” Fernando said.

“If we were still racing, you’d complain I was being slow in front of you on purpose. Traffic.” Seb seemed to be having fun enunciating the r all funny. “Look at all this traffic. Look at all these idiots.”

There was nothing to be done; Seb on the grid was insufferable then, and Seb in retirement was insufferable still. Except if you got Fernando drunk, he’d admit under duress that Seb wore all the insufferable-ness much less like an armour now and more like a very comfortable second-skin. It suited him, and Fernando had no business trying to peel that off him. And anyway, it was Fernando’s own fault for agreeing to this.

“We’re not racing though,” Fernando said. Just to say something back.

Seb tapped the wheel with a forefinger. Some of the grid found it impossible to translate their racing skills to the real world where the majority of driving took place. Where there were lights, pedestrians, and yes, traffic. Thinking about Charles and parking always got Fernando chuckling. But Seb could have been moulded to the frame of the car. He was made of things Fernando had no words for. And he was stuck behind a RAV4 going 80 in the fast lane, and he looked ready to slice the offending vehicle in half.

It was something Fernando believed he could do. Slice a vehicle in half. That was what happened when you started spending time with Seb. You started believing in the crazy.

“We’re always racing,” Seb said. “To the next destination, to the next chapter. No matter how hard we might try to dig our heels in.”

“Oh my god,” Fernando said. “It’s just a new house.” It’s just retirement, and I’ve been through it once already. “It’s not—it’s not anything. It’s just—”

“A new house,” Seb said calmly. “That I’m going to look at with you.”

“Not because we’re husbands.”

“Not because of that,” Seb said, giggling. “Can you imagine that?”

Yes, Fernando nearly said, and then was instantly mortified. He’d survived crashes at 300 before. If he unbuckled his seatbelt and took a dive out of Seb’s moving Ferrari, he might just survive that too.

Seb took his silence for offence. “I mean,” he said belatedly. “Not that—I can’t imagine you as, you know? I just meant, you know?”

It wasn’t very often, especially now, when they were no longer edging each other around track corners, that Fernando could see Seb sweat. He was going to make the most out of it. “I know?” he said, tone blander than a slice of white bread.

“You know what I mean,” Seb said. He threw his hands up, then remembered he was in the fast lane with some slow goose less than a car length ahead of him, and quickly repositioned them back on the steering wheel. “It’s not that we couldn’t be. Fuck. Nando. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean—”

“So you’re going to see this house with your not-husband,” Fernando said, gleefully drawing it out.

“Nando—”

“And you’ve talked to the realtor, you’ve set it all up. You’ve cleared my schedule.” That was the thing, Seb had. He made sure Fernando had no excuses for skipping out on looking at houses on this fine Wednesday evening. “Even though you couldn’t possibly imagine me as your husband.”

“Nando,” Seb pleaded.

“And you’re driving me there in your red Ferrari.”

The Toyota in front of them slowed down for no apparent reason, and Seb was forced to slam his foot on the brakes, and then lay a nightmare on the horn.

When the noise finally died down: “Seb,” Fernando said, and made sure to inject as much delight as he could in his voice. “Am I to be your kept woman?”

It took a glorious moment.

“Oh my god,” Seb gasped, relief evident in every unclenching muscle in his body. “You arsehole. I thought you were—angry at me, I thought—you fucker. You fucker, you scared the shit—oh my god. I hate you.”

Fernando was too busy losing it on the passenger seat. His stomach was hurting from how hard he was laughing. He was clenching the side of the car door for support. It was funny how far down retirement could fling you, to the extent that he’d move to the one thing far removed yet still connected to the sport he was trying to excise from his flesh.

This one thing that was the only person Fernando could think of that would take house viewing so seriously. The red Ferrari spoke volumes. The weaving around the Toyota and the cheeky finger out the window even more.

Ah, fuck. He’d gone all silly, deciphering car language. Seb’s influence was going to bend him all wrong, and then bend him all right again.

“If the house is painted something stupid, I’m walking away on sight.”

“Sure,” Seb said cheerfully. “Even though I wouldn’t live by your definition of stupid.”

Fernando snorted. This was going to go all sorts of wrong. Seb’s hand was on the gearstick. Fernando curled his hand atop there.

He found he didn’t quite mind.

#athy texts #vettonso #fanfic #rpf

[novacqnes]

insomnia // rosita espinosa

summary: grappling with heartbreak and her sexuality Rosita finds solace in you and a little more.

warning: very brief smut (fingering, masturbation)

word count: 2.2k

pairing: rosita espinosa x fem reader

a/n: noticed a lack of rosita fics on here, if you guys enjoyed please don’t forget to reblog I really appreciate it :)

Loneliness was an unmistakable feeling. It was the depravity and isolation that came with being alone that made living unbearable. It was a feeling that Rosita knew all too well but she was good at masking it. After all, she had Abraham, someone who she’d known since the start of the end and he wouldn’t dare leave her- until he eventually did. But there were more men after Abraham, all of whom meant nothing to her, none of them could replace the growing loneliness she wrestled with day after day.

From the moment Rosita emerged from the tank by Abraham’s side you were in awe. Not just by her physical appearance but the way she cared for people, especially those she loved. She was fierce but in an a passionate way- being loved by Rosita was unlike anything else, or so you imagined. There were many things stopping you from professing your long held crush on her; the first began with the 6ft blue-eyed ginger with a loaded machine gun. The second was that Rosita was presumably straight. She never talked about girls or even hinted at a possible attraction to them which made you doubt the possibility that she’d ever reciprocate your feelings. 

So maybe it was loneliness, or maybe it was curiosity that led Rosita to your doorstep for the first time 6 weeks ago. That night Rosita wandered around Alexandria aimlessly until she came across your dimly lit house on the corner of the street. She didn’t have a particular goal in mind but before she knew it she was at your front step, ringing the doorbell.

When you appeared Rosita was shocked by the absence of fatigue and dark circles under your eyes. You looked put together, almost as if you weren’t sleeping in the first place. It made her feel embarrassed to be standing in front of you with nothing but a tank top and shorts. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked.

Rosita looked more flushed than usual. And any other day you would’ve blamed it on the scorching Virginia heat. It was something about the way she stood in front of you, out of breath, balled fists and messy hair. You knew there had to be something more. 

“Yeah, I saw the light from outside. Can I come in?”

You opened the door a bit further to let her in when you finally saw it. The dim light over the fireplace illuminated the room to where you were able to finally get a clear view of Rosita. You hadn’t realized it before but her eyes were red as if she’d been crying for hours.

“Sorry for the mess, I can clean it up if you want to sit down.” 

Rosita had only visited your house a handful of times yet this was the first time she truly got a good look. There were candles lit all around your living room, the couch was pulled out and numerous books, pencils, cigarettes, poems and drawings spread all across the mattress. 

“No- don’t it’s fine, I don’t mind.” She remarked, a drawing on the corner of the bed catching her eye. 

She sauntered over to it picking it up, it was a drawing of Michonne. Around her dozens upon dozens of flowers drawn meticulously to outline her locs. Around her locs were splashes of color that only enhanced the picture.

She stood in disbelief, “You did this?”

Rosita was astonished, she’d never seen anything like it. She couldn’t fathom that something so beautiful could come to life in the world they lived. A world of pain, loneliness and fear. 

“Yeah, I tried to get the eyes right but they look off-“ You rambled.

“Y/n, this is beautiful. Is that what you do all night?”

“Pretty much, I can never really fall asleep so I find something to do, to keep myself busy.”

“Is there more? Can I look?” She urged, her eyes falling on more.

“Knock yourself out.” You chuckled, giddy excitement ran through your body as you watched Rosita face light up at the sight of your creations. 

She sat on the mattress reading through the poems- your poems. She found herself smiling at your handwriting, the way you wrote with passion and pursuit. Each and every drawing she came across made her heart swell, especially the ones of the group. Something about the way you drew people felt majestic. The way people wanted to be seen as something more than themselves, as something greater, you displayed through each stroke. 

Rosita kept looking until she came across one at the edge of the bed, you began to panic recognizing the figure through the page. Before you could rush over and grab it she was already on it, flipping it over to see herself. 

At first she was speechless, it felt as if she was staring at her own reflection. In the pit of your stomach several knots formed as you stood by anxiously hoping she wasn’t creeped out or hated your drawing. You picked your cuticles hoping to distract yourself from the unnerving silence. 

At last a painful smile broke through Rosita's face as she closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. 

She hated it.

You stuttered, “I’m sorry Rosita, I tried my best but I could redo it if you’d like—“ 

“No, no- Y/n this is perfect, you’re perfect. I love it.” She reassured.

“Then what’s wrong?” You asked, joining her on the side of the bed. 

“Abraham. He left me.”

Rosita filled you in on how it happened. When she came into the room they shared together and he was packing. He didn’t offer her much of an explanation besides the fact that he now knew that she wasn’t the only woman in the world anymore. But you both knew it meant he’d fallen for someone else and kicked Rosita as well as all of the years they’d spent together to the curb. 

“I’m not upset that he’s found someone better for himself, you know? It hurts like hell but it’s how he did it. Like I was nothing.” 

Anger bubbled inside of you as you found it hard to contain your thoughts. You’d always created a picture of what you imagined Rosita and Abraham's relationship to be. You thought of them as some sort of unbreakable force. They weren’t joined at the hip like Maggie and Glenn but their loyalty to each other spoke for itself. Rosita would do anything for him and until now you assumed it was the same back.

“He’s an asshole.”

“Y/n—“

“Listen I know you love him and all but he’s still a dick, and I’m entitled to believe that.” You said curtly.

She chucked, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She held up the picture of herself. 

“The way you drew me, I want someone to see me like that. Strong, beautiful, unbeatable.” She gushed, placing a hand on your clothed thigh. 

Someone. Although she didn’t say your name directly, it felt like she was talking about you. Like she was calling out to you and once again you felt the heat rush to your cheeks but this time you said something.

“You are.”

Rosita blushed, nervously shaking her head as she sensed the atmosphere shift. The vanilla scent from the candles made her feel like she was walking on air. How she so deeply wanted to lean in and kiss you right there yet she held back. She pulled her hand in, placing it back in her lap. 

She grinned, “I really needed this Y/n, thanks for being an insomniac.”

“Anytime.” You mumbled, heart sinking as you felt like you’d driven her away. 

She headed for the door clutching the picture in her arms shooting you one last bittersweet smile. Once the door closed you flung yourself onto the bed. You screwed up you thought, you let your feelings get in the way and it chased Rosita away. Now you really weren’t going to sleep. 

Little did you know Rosita hadn’t let the tension deter her from seeing you. Every day since that night she found her way back to your house. Sometimes it was to talk, admire your work, but truly it was because she liked being around you. That night Rosita practically begged you to let her model for you. She went around all of Alexandria collecting acrylic paints and a canvas for you to work on. When she finally arrived she was bursting at the seams with excitement waltzing through the door. She dumped the tools on the pull out bed.

“You’re way too excited for this.” You giggled, setting up your workstation.

“Never been more ready for anything in my life- you know I had to play a game of chess with Eugene to get those fancy paints for you?” 

“Chess?” 

“Yes, chess! It lasted a whole 3 hours. You should be thanking me.” She exclaimed.

You smirked, “I’ll make sure to thank you after, have a seat.”

Rosita took a seat on the bed as you settled on the stool behind the canvas. You meticulously studied her face and you noticed it had a new joy to it. Over the last few weeks you could feel Rosita’s confidence slowly beginning to build back up. There were a few setbacks but she was repairing her heart with your help, every step of the way. 

You guys had grown extremely close as Rosita began to spend the night, but you guys never slept in the same bed. Since the first night you were careful not to cross any lines with Rosita, your relationship was strictly platonic and it was going to stay that way. 

With each stroke you replicated the beautiful woman seated in front of you. You covered each and every inch of her body accentuating the slightest detail. 

“Almost done there?” Rosita called out, growing a bit restless.

“Almost….” You answered back, adding the finishing details to the portrait. 

Once you were finally satisfied you turned the canvas around allowing Rosita to see. A heartfelt smile spread across her flushed face as she admired the art.

“That’s you,” You beamed, taking a seat right next to her.

“Y/n…. I don’t even know what to say, it's beautiful.” She cooed, turning to look at you. 

For a second you felt time stop as your eyes connected. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you caught a whiff of her maple scent. Instead of pulling away Rosita placed a gentle hand on the side of your face moving in to kiss you. Her lips were so soft, you couldn’t think straight as her hands ran up and down your body pressing herself further against you. 

“Wait no-no.” You shook your head going to remove her hands from you.

“What’s wrong?” 

“You don’t really want this.” You croaked. 

“What?”

“You’re heartbroken because of Abraham so this is your way to cope, you don’t really like me.

She began, “Y/n-“ 

“No-“

“Y/n, listen to me.” She cupped your face so you could see she was truly serious.

“I like you and I want to be with you. This isn’t some phase or coping mechanism. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. You make me want to be better and I hope I can be that person for you. Please let me.” She pleaded.

You knew she was telling the truth, you could see it in her eyes she was being genuine. You’d gone down this road way too many times to know that you just needed to trust her, you felt it deep down that you could.

“Okay,” You nodded, moving your hands, allowing Rosita to continue.

Something about the way she kissed you, the passion behind it made you fall all in. The kiss grew more fierce as she slipped her tongue into your mouth causing you to moan. Her hand traveled to the band of your sweatpants before looking at you for permission. 

“I’m not experienced, when it comes to girls. But I want to try…can I touch you?” She muttered in between kisses.

“Yes, please.” 

You placed your hand over hers slipping it under your pants and underwear, guiding her in the right  direction. The pad of her thumb gently connected with your clit as it sent a shiver through your pussy. She began to rub tauntingly slow circles kissing up and down your neck. 

“Just like that.” You moaned, as the pleasure built inside of you. Seeing how this affected you Rosita applied more pressure to your clit, slipping one finger inside of you.

“You’re doing so well Rosie.” You cried, as her pace sped up, she leaned down to sloppily kiss you, your tongues swirling over one another.

Rosita angled her finger meeting your g spot as you gasped. She kept going until you were a moaning mess in front of her on the verge of release. When you were done she placed her head into the crevice of your neck, admiring her work. You looked down at her content and out of breath. 

“I could do that for you too you know, take care of you.” You suggested, slipping a hand over her thigh.

“I know but you always do, I wanted to be the one this time. I promise to be.” 

That night you laid in the same bed comfortably tangled in each other’s arms, drifting off into a long slumber for the first time in years. Although your insomnia wasn’t cured, having Rosita next to you every night made it a little easier.

#rosita espinosa #rosita the walking dead #rosita twd #twd #the walking dead #rosita espinosa smut #rosita espinosa angst #rosita espinosa fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut #the walking dead angst #rosita espinosa x fem reader

[ali-annals]

it was all by design ('cause i'm a mastermind)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: G | Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ao3 | WC: 2.3k | TW: -

A/N: This is part of a series called The Eras Tour (Jasonette’s Version), a collection of Jasonette-centric fics I wrote for the Maribat discord server Maribat? Get In!’s 2024 Civil War event. Not beta’d.

Marinette schemes her way into becoming Jason Todd's girlfriend. He loves her more for it.

The crisp October breeze caressed the curls around the girl’s head, softly brushing them across her face with a cool kiss. She tucked them behind her ear, pinning them out of her eyes so she could better appreciate the night sky sparkling with diamond-like stars. 

The fresh air of the balcony was a paradise to Marinette, who had been in the stifling ballroom of Wayne Manor far too long. It was full of people, socialites from Gotham and celebrities from New York all wanting to schmooze with the Waynes and other more-influential-than-they 1-percenters.

The noise of the live music and clinking of crystal and boisterous conversation eventually drove Marinette to the relative peace of the muted balcony.

She gave one last lingering look at the stars before patting her hair and dress down, drawing in a deep breath as she put her hand on the knob of the balcony door.

The noise that had been muffled on the balcony was a shock to her ears and she immediately began making her plans to escape ASAP. She’d talked to everyone she wanted and needed to, had thanked her host and his butler, and had eaten her fill in appetizers. All her evening’s boxes had been checked.

Sliding into the shadows of the edges of the room, she began making her way to the grand doors of the exit all the way across the room when her vigilant gaze caught on someone.

He was in conversation with a small group of young men around his age, at the side of the room, his face shadowed. She could only make out his profile, but what she saw made her pause in her escape, trailing her eyes down his body. He wore a red dress shirt under a tailored black suit, the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows. She appreciated people who rolled their sleeves instead of just shoving the fabric up, especially on knits.

He laughed at something the redhead said, bringing his glass up to his mouth with a grin. Even from across the room, his laugh sent shivers through her; it was nice and warm, something she heard, focused as she was on his person.

His gaze turned slightly and met hers, then flicked back to his conversation partners.

A tiny bit piqued that he hadn’t even taken a second to appreciate how well her dress fit–which was her talking point for the night and something she was immensely proud of–she reminded herself that he may have a girlfriend or wife or boyfriend for all she knew.

With one last glance at him, memorizing his features in case she came across him at a future event, she continued on her path to the door. 

She had some research to do, and it was better done in the comfort of her fuzzy jammies and a glass of wine than on her phone in the shadows of a billionaire’s ballroom.

~~~

A night of research later, Marinette had filled a page of her notebook with what she knew about her new target, formatted as her usual client information sheet. The next three pages were filled with half-drawn-up plans and scribbled over strategies to get to know him better.

Name: Jason Todd

Age: 28

Birthday: 16/08/1996

Primary Residence: Gotham, NJ

Features: Black hair [white forelock]; light eyes [specifics?]; tan skin, warm undertone; 1.83 m/6’0”; trapezoidal body type; warm undertones & colours best suited to skin tone.

Contact Information: -

Social Circles: Martha Wayne Foundation 20th Annual Fundraising Gala…

Relation(s): Wayne Family of Gotham; Head Family of Metropolis.

Marinette loaded her photo software. She often sent her assistant to the events when possible if she was unable to attend, having her assistant photograph the event so she could later analyze the fashions. The camera focus was on the clothing, not the faces, but she still scanned through her files in case Jason had been caught in the background somewhere.

The results surprised her. He’d appeared more often than she expected, though always in the shadows or on the sideline, and only at events that were either Wayne-business related or were for fundraising or charity. Any simply-social events showed not a trace of him.

She opened her carefully colour-blocked and organized planner. How many events had she been invited to that she’d not yet RSVP’d?

~~~

The gala was in full swing by the time Marinette arrived, having rushed to it after finishing her commission at the last minute. It was a fundraising gala in New York for the branch of the Martha Wayne Foundation’s Family Founders mission there, and she hoped that she’d calculated correctly that Jason would be there.

The little research she’d been able to dig up on him had made it clear that he was very much the black sheep and wild child of the Wayne family, with no one ever entirely sure if and when he’d show up in places.

She was dying from curiosity about what he could be doing in between public appearances.  Whatever it was, she knew it would be fascinating.

She skimmed a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and headed deeper into the crowd, approaching Chloe. If she was in the middle of the room with her old friend, she could scour all the corners at once to see if her prey had arrived.

“Marinette, you look gorgeous!”

“Thanks, so do you,” grinned Mari, taking in the shimmering green dress she’d made for her friend. “Have you been here long?”

“Only since the start of the party,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Perks of being the head coordinator–you get to be there hours before and after the party happens.”

“Head coordinator?” Marinette looked at her friend in shock. “You didn’t tell me you got promoted!”

“I had to tell you in person, didn’t I?” asked Chloe, gesturing to her sparkling presence as if to say, “Look at me”. “Tina retired, so I was promoted last week. It’s a good thing I was already working so hard on this event, so I was prepared for everything.”

“Lucky you,” said Marinette, giggling a little at the inside joke. 

Chloe rolled her eyes fondly. “Are you ever going to get over making those stupid puns?”

“Not as long as you keep reacting so humorously to them,” she replied, turning a little to scan the room.

“Looking for someone?” asked Chloe, catching her wandering gaze.

“Just…can you see who RSVP’d?”

“Yes…”

“Do you know if Jason Todd said he’d be here tonight?”

Chloe looked at her admiringly, whistling lowly under her breath. “Dang, girl, you’ve got taste! I believe the Waynes simply RSVP’d for four. I don’t know who.”

Marinette wasn’t expecting it to be easy, but when had she ever liked easy? She’d been a magical superhero while she was still in lycee, for kwami’s sake! The thrill of the chase was something she relished, planning out her moves and organizing her target’s schedule and pickpocketing phones to delete texts-

-okay, when she puts it that way, she sounds a little unhinged and obsessive and stalkery, but she really wasn’t that bad! If they didn’t like it, she backed off and respected their ‘no’, and she (usually) only got her information from publicly available sources that didn’t even realize the help they’d given her. 

She just didn’t know how to initiate anything by any other way, having grown up scheming her way into friendships and relationships as easily as she breathed. A cleverly-worded plea here, a subtle cue she’d Pavlov’d into a friend there, and she was golden. Her lucky targets never even knew they’d just been played.

It had been so easy to out Lila, the little wannabe-manipulator. She couldn’t even research a believable untruth, or wait until her ‘friends’ had been lulled into trusting her fully before she overplayed her hand too fast, too much, too soon. It was always better to use little by little–it was more believable if they didn’t realise you’d been doing it for ages, like that frog-cooking analogy.

Marinette sighed faux-sadly into her champagne as she thought of her ex-classmate, whom she hadn’t seen or heard of in almost a decade. Knowing people was definitely the key to life.

Chloe nudged her arm. “The Waynes have arrived for their appearance. I think I see Todd among them.”

Marinette hummed an acknowledgement and drained her champagne, feeling like the bubbles were flowing through her blood as the thrill of the game began anew. Time to go on the hunt.

~~~

Jason Todd was indeed among the Wayne party of four, looking particularly edible in a well-fitted black suit layered over a black shirt. Marinette preferred to add colour and pattern to men’s suits when she could–why were they all so boring; that’s why she liked Jagged so much–but she had to admit the black-on-black really worked for Jason, upping the mysterious aura about him.

Making her way slowly through casual greeting, Marinette eventually arrived at a small circle of socialites chatting just beside Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, and Cassandra Cain, who were mingling with donors.

Bruce glanced over just as Marinette brushed her long hair over her shoulder, leaning in to hear a socialite’s joke. Her laugh was interrupted by her name being called.

“Marinette! I thought that was you! Looking stunning tonight, although you always are, what with having a personal connection to designers, eh?” winked Brucie. 

“Bruce! Lovely to see you again. I see you’ve been cheating on me with Audrey,” she looked his suit up and down.

“When in Rome?” he laughed nervously. “Or I guess, New York. Oh! My children! You must meet them!” Collaring his three children attempting to make a stealthy escape, he introduced her to the man she wanted to meet. “Mari, these are my second- and third-oldest sons, Jason Todd-Wayne and Timothy Drake-Wayne, and my daughter, Cassandra Cain-Wayne. Kids, this is Marinette; she’s the designer that made me that suit I love–the one from that Times photoshoot the other year?”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” She shook their hands, letting her fingers rest a little longer on Jason’s than the others. “Your dad is one of my favourite customers.”

“Why’s that?” Timothy tilted his head like a bird.

“He lets me use the fun designs I’m dying to try–all the colourful or ‘different’ ideas. His suits aren’t just a suit off-the-rack or hand-tailored, they’re a challenge and a pleasure to work on.”

“So you don’t like a plain black suit then?” Jason raised his eyebrow, a small smile on the edges of his lips.

“I didn’t say that,” she assured him hastily over his siblings’ snickers. “You pull it off very well.” I’d like to pull it off you, she thought. “Not everyone can wear black-on-black without looking like they’ve still not left their emo stage.”

Several glances were exchanged among the family. 

“Did you have an emo stage?” wondered Bruce. “I wonder what a fashion designer’s emo phase would look like.”

Marinette shivered. “We don’t talk about Emonette in my atelier. Anyways, it’s lovely to meet you all. Please ask your dad for my information if you’d like to step out of your shadowy comfort zone,” she winked playfully at Jason. “Well, I see Audrey waving me over, and now I have a bone to pick with her, Bruce. Ciao!”

With a wave, she left them, taking great pleasure in the feeling of eyes on her as she went.

~~~

“Marinette, why are you still up?”

She looked up from the embroidery she’d occupied her hands with while she waited for Jason to get home. “I decided there’s something you need to know.”

“Okay…” He settled onto the sofa beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “What’s up, Pixie?”

“It’s about the start of our relationship…”

“Okay?”

“The whole thing was a ruse. I saw you at a party and you intrigued me, so I stalked you and planned out everything, every time we met at parties after that, what we talked about, even when you approached me it was because I’d planned for you to. I don’t know how to actually express interest in a normal, non-stalkery way. It’s only because I’ve planned it out and prepared for it that I act like I do. I manipulated you into liking me and being my boyfriend, but I can’t live with this secret anymore.”

Jason was silent for a few minutes, breathing deeply. Marinette didn’t dare to look at him, too nervous to find out if it was because he was trying to keep his temper in check.

“Mari, look at me.”

She glanced up, catching a smirk on his lips. She took a second, longer look. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Mari, my innocent Pixie, I know.”

“What?”

“You know I do vigilante work, and I appreciate you waiting for me to tell you about it. Well, I’m the Red Hood. I was trained by Batman and the League of Assassins. My adoptive mother is the master manipulator of the League, and she taught me how to use it and recognize it. I’ve known from the first glance we shared at that party.

“You are absolutely a clever manipulator, Pix, and that’s honestly one of the things I like most about you, maybe because it’s familiar. You may have laid the groundwork for the beginning of our relationship, but you didn’t manipulate me into loving you. Know how I know? Because I love even the things you don’t, even your flaws, things you wouldn’t show me in case it ended your ruse. Well, that won’t work, because I’ve seen them and I love them and I love you, anyways. Good luck getting away from me, my Machiavellian mastermind.”

#jasonette #fic #ali writes #dcxmlb #mgi cw 24

[asimperingswannsong]

The Light Bringer Helps a Lady Drown Her Sorrows

Lucifer Morningstar (Sandman)/Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)

Author’s Note: I adored Gwen’s Lucifer but never thought I’d write them because I couldn’t picture a satisfying dynamic. Well, I formed a picture, and turns out, it’s the sort of picture your mom tapes to the fridge in support of your fragile ego. The sort of scribble that makes mom’s friends wonder if mom’s kid is alright. I can only apologize for this finger painted hellscape.

Warnings: Uh, wing kink? Tentacle interest? Unexpected cock in the bagging area? True form sex? Aerial smut? Oh, and a small slaughter. If you trigger easily or just have a low tolerance for general tomfuckery; maybe set this one out?

———————————————————————-

Lady Dimitrescu had come to this hotel bar to drown her sorrows after being harshly reprimanded by Mother Miranda. She was having a pity party for herself. She adored Mother Miranda. Her every wish was Alcina’s command, and she longed to receive the kind of lavish affection from her that Alcina doled out on her own daughters. She loved her daughters fiercely. They were second only in her mind to Mother Miranda herself, and she was not shy about showing them.

She came here angry and hurt. She could have easily enjoyed her drink at home, but she knew if she sat here long enough, she was sure to draw the attention of a worthless man thing sooner or later. And right now, she’d love nothing more than to take one of them home with her, and make his misery a welcome diversion from her own.

“If you’re in need of a surrogate parent, I could be your new daddy?” A velvety voice had leant down near her ear and whispered those ridiculous words to her. There it was, just like clockwork. “Listen to me you disgusting man thing, if you…” she stopped abruptly as she turned on her barstool to find the most ethereal creature she’d ever seen gazing at her with a mischievous grin on their face.

They were so exquisite; pale skin, blue eyes, and beautiful blonde curls. Alcina was left breathless. “My god.” The Light Bringer cocked an eyebrow and shrugged slightly, “I might have had ambitions once…you’re not so bad on the eyes yourself, Lady Dimitrescu.” Mind reading? Lady Dimitrescu had not imagined herself susceptible to telepathy…not from a stranger anyway. And she was sure she hadn’t introduced herself. “Come now, little lamb, we’re not strangers. Are we?”

“What?” she felt a little foggy and uncertain. It was bizarre. “You deserve better from your mommy dearest, my pet. Why don’t you let daddy kiss it and make it all better?” Their words dripped from their mouth in the most sensuous way. Alcina felt herself throbbing.

Luci led Alcina over to a corner booth near the piano and pulled her in. There was a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne on the table and a bottle of red in the particular vintage Alcina enjoyed. When she tasted the blood of a maiden mixed with the red wine she looked curiously at her companion.

“Don’t be coy dear,” Luci said, “what do you think of the hotel’s virtuoso?” they asked while gesturing to the pianist with their champagne flute. “He’s quite good, incredible actually…for a man thing.” Luci chuckled at the tone Alcina assumed when referring to men. “He should be good. He made a deal with me, unfortunately he was a little vague in the details and…” they gestured to the hotel.

“Oh well, his loss is our gain, cheers!” they toasted. The two sat and enjoyed Chopin. Alcina noticed Luci’s gaze on her body out of the corner of her eye. They were making an especially in depth appraisal of her bust line. “Like something you see?” Alcina purred at her companion, turning to them and placing a finger under their chin.

“I like all of it,” they returned before Alcina pulled them in for a kiss. The kiss deepened as Alcina ran her tongue in and around Luci’s mouth as they moaned. They ended up in a heavy petting session in the booth. The pianist looked a little uncomfortable as he noticed Luci scoot over and straddle the incredibly tall woman sitting next to them in the booth.

The barman came over after receiving a few complaints and bent down to interrupt the horny pair with, “Ahem, this is a hotel. There are rooms if you wish to continue in this manner.” They broke apart and Luci gave Alcina a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Excuse me a moment, won’t you, sweetling?” “Of course.”

Luci watched as Alcina slipped out of the booth and made her way to the powder room. Luci chuckled to themselves as they saw Alcina wrap one large gloved hand over the mouth of the barman and pull him along with her. Luci finished their champagne while they waited on their companion to return.

When Alcina arrived back at the booth her eyes were shining and she was dabbing delicately at her lips. She bent down and licked into Luci’s mouth. Breaking the kiss she said, “Shall we step outside before we offend any more gentle constitutions?” Luci took her arm and they walked out of the bar. The make out session resumed before they made it outside, with Alcina having to lift Luci up into her arms for their kisses to continue as they walked.

They stumbled out of a side exit and into a dimly lit alleyway. Luci was trying their best to be the dominant one in their exchange but Alcina’s height was giving her the advantage. Luci resorted to unzipping Alcina’s dress all the way down her back and then tearing it off.

She was shocked to find herself standing in the alley in just heels and her lingerie. Alcina was not used to being man handled in this manner. She looked back at Luci after inspecting her own state of undress only to find them entirely nude except for a pair of knee high platform boots.

They were even more stunning, small but perky breasts and wonderfully curvy hips and thighs but Alcina was shocked by the 10 inch cock. Luci’s eyes shone in the dark along with a wicked grin on their face as they said, “I’m going to fuck you into the dirt, little lamb.” Alcina threw her head back and started to let out a hearty laugh at the nerve of her companion, but her laugh was cut off as she was tackled roughly to the ground.

She flushed with anger at being mostly nude in the dirty alleyway and started to give Luci a menacing look when she was rendered speechless as a large set of black leathery wings unfolded themselves from Luci’s back and flapped a few times above them as if stretching after being confined. Alcina was gawking at the wings as she felt Luci attacking her neck and chest with their lips and mouth.

They sucked and kissed down to Alcina’s breast before they lifted slightly and sliced the bra apart with “claws? They have claws?” She felt her nipple being engulfed in the warm wetness of their mouth as Luci’s hand dipped into her panties. Alcina reached up a touched the wing above her causing Luci to moan around her breast.

Alcina cocked an eyebrow at that response as she felt a finger piercing her opening. She moaned herself this time before reaching up and gently dragging her hand down as much of the length of Luci’s wing as she could manage. Luci let go of Alcina’s nipple with a small popping sound as they threw their head back an moaned at the wing contact. They looked at Alcina appearing slightly dazed.

“Sensitive, darling?” Alcina asked with a silky coo. Luci growled and sliced the side of her panties, ripping them to the side, and shoving their girth inside Alcina. It was her turn to throw her head back and moan. She reached up again but Luci pulled their wings back from their sides enough to put them just out of reach as they grabbed onto Alcina’s hips and pressed her down fucking her roughly into the dirt.

She moaned and thrashed her head back and forth at the merciless onslaught. It continued unchecked no matter how much she writhed beneath Luci. She felt her orgasm start to build and it sent her blood lust into high gear. She desperately wanted to cum and she desperately want to sink her teeth into her companion.

Luci smiled at the predatory look that came into Alcina’s eyes as she was pinned beneath them. Luci took one hand off Alcina’s hip and wrapped it around her throat frustrating her attempts to get at Luci with her mouth. Luci took pleasure in her frustration as they felt Alcina bucking up underneath them. Luci reached down and rubbed Alcina’s clit, while they enjoyed the way her breasts bounced with her bucking and writhing.

Alcina’s hips stuttered and she threw her head back groaning roughly as she came. The squeezing of Alcina’s cunt caused Luci to cum spilling their seed inside her and moaning as they collapsed onto Alcina’s breasts. Feeling Luci’s seed spread inside her caused Alcina to become frantic with blood lust. She pulled a limp Luci up her body and sank her teeth into their neck.

Alcina was taken on the wildest most bizarre trip of her life as Luci’s blood hit her mouth. She took in all of the cosmos and all of creation from the bang through several aeons to an all encompassing darkness as she felt herself falling into the dark.

She woke up after an unknown amount of time still lying in the alley with her head cradled in Luci’s lap. They were tracing gentle circles at her temple and smiling sweetly down at her. “What’s wrong little lamb was I too spicy?”

As the grogginess began to wear off and her head cleared, Alcina felt her blood zinging through her veins with an electric charge to it. Her breathing and her pulse skyrocketed and she felt herself beginning to change.

She pushed herself up, stumbling as she tried to stand, crashing into the wall and holding on as she bent double. She howled as her form began to slip. Luci stood up and smiled as they watched Alcina assume her true form. She went from a tall buxom raven haired beauty to a tentacle bedecked fiend in a cloud of black smoke. This new form snarled at Luci causing Luci to throw their head back and attempt to laugh with glee.

But this time it was their turn to be tackled…sort of. Alcina leapt at Luci and made contact but was caught off guard when Luci pushed up and flapped their wings taking flight and pulling Alcina up with them. They continued flapping furiously and ascending further while attempting to hold Alcina at bay by gripping tightly to two of the tentacles on her head.

They made it to just above the roof lines as Alcina made contact with a claw, tearing a cut down the center of one of Luci’s wings. Luci screamed first in pain, then in anger. Their eyes lit up with hunger of their own. Alcina released an ear splitting keening and her struggles caused them to veer and roll in the air.

As Alcina continued to claw at Luci and continued to try to get her mouth back to their neck. Luci returned the scratching, leaving open claw wounds on Alcina’s torso, before grabbing the mess of tentacles where her legs used to be and parting them until they found the pink throbbing cunt underneath. They grabbed Alcina’s arm and pulled themselves up her body before pressing up and shoving their cock back inside her.

This time the screech that came out of Alcina sent several dozen townspeople scrambling for shelter down below them. They didn’t know exactly what the ball of wings, tentacles, and naked flesh flying drunkenly above them and screaming like a banshee was but they thought it best to leave further investigation to someone else…someone with a very large gun perhaps.

Luci thrust into her a few more times and Alcina’s writhing caused them to veer sharply crashing into the side of a building. Luci used the leverage to continue to fuck into her causing Alcina to screech again and slam her fist into the wall behind them knocking a very large hole into it.

As Luci flapped their wing, Alcina reached forward and bit down onto it. Luci screamed in pain and in pleasure and they dropped down hitting a bench before landing in a heap of blood, wings, tentacles, and flesh on the pavement. Luci continued rutting into Alcina and they both came a second time. Luci emptying themselves inside Alcina again.

Alcina roughly pushed Luci off of her and to the side. She brought herself up with her arms, snarled, screeched, turned and fled away down the sidewalk. Luci stood and followed after her, going from entirely nude to clad in head to toe black patent leather in a single step. The blood and the tousled hair from their love making vanished as well and the Light Bringer was once again their immaculate self as they followed the sounds of terror looking for their lover.

They stepped inside a billard’s bar and almost collided with a frenzied patron who was attempting a hasty exit. Luci grabbed him by the throat. “Leaving so soon, my pet? I’ve only just arr…” The thought was rendered void by Alcina ripping his body roughly into the air before biting down onto his torso. Luci held only his newly severed head and neck. They tossed it carelessly over their shoulder.

They stood in their post coital contentment and listened to the symphony of screams, the running of feet, and the crashing and shattering of property as Alcina slaughtered everyone inside. She tore limbs from bodies, sliced heads off, tore flesh and consumed it, gulped large quantities of blood from stumps until not a soul remained but the pair of them.

Luci felt their eyes mist over with affection as they watched Alcina in the throes of a seemingly insatiable blood lust. They were beginning to develop a soft spot for this magnificent creature. With the decimation of the billiard hall and all it’s inhabitants complete. Alcina stood nude in the center of the room, breathing deeply, and swaying slightly. She reassumed her previous lady like appearance before swaying a final time, tipping backward, and falling. Luci rushed forward and cupped the back of her head stopping it from hitting the floor. They pulled Alcina’s head into their lap, cradling it again and drawing soothing circles at her temples with their fingertips. Their eyes were still glistening when they looked down at Alcina.

Alcina lay more fully sated than she could ever remember being as she gazed up into the exquisite beauty of the Light Bringer who was looking tenderly back at her. They whispered to her, “Little lamb, your mother is a fool if she fails to appreciate you. You truly are a thing of wonder. We really must do this again sometime.” They bent down and placed a sweet kiss to Alcina’s forehead and Alcina awoke nude in her own bed.

*edited because I misgendered the Light bringer like half a dozen times 😑and it was driving me crazy thinking about it 😵*

#my fic #the sandman #lucifer morningstar #alcina demitriscu #lady dimitrescu #re8 fic #sandman fic #smut #absolute nonsense #gwendoline christie

[tickledpink31]

We know so much about the relationship Mari has with wukong but not with the other pilgrims and demons that are in the story. What are the relationships like? Describe it in any way.

Bull Demon Family Surprisingly, she gets along with them well enough. I like the idea of the demons and deities that Wukong has encountered prefer Mari over Wukong. It's like she's finally found her people. Let me tell you that they feel awful for being the reason that LBD took Mari as a host. They were also sad to hear that Xiaodie had to disappear for a good while. Young Red Son cried a lot.

Not sure what to say about PIF and DBK individually, but Red Son still respects his aunt Mari/Xiaodie in his adult years. They've bonded over modern vehicles before.

Nezha Not much to say, except that he also respected Xiaodie enough that he was sad about her disappearance. He does question her taste in men.

Macaque I'm leaning more into the idea that Macaque and Mari don't have any hard feelings towards each other in spite of their differing relationship with Wukong. Macaque probably warned her once about how dangerous it was being too close to the king. I've entertained the idea of a love triangle/unrequited love in there, but I feel like it's a bit overused. I'm still open to the idea though.

Ao Lie They get along swimmingly as the two youngest of the group. Xiaodie's not really one for affection, but she frequently lets him know how much he's appreciated. She is, however, a little irked about his inaction at times.

Sha Wujing She was scared of him at first ngl. It didn't take long though for them to start getting along. After one day of knowing each, Xiaodie was found casually riding on Wujing's shoulders when she sprained her ankle.

Zhu Bajie Let me direct once more to this drawing, particularly the second one.

The utter disgust she felt when he quickly moved on from his supposed wife because he was excited to see that he'd be joining the pilgrimage with Xiaodie. The next second, Bajie's head met the hard metal hilt of Xiaodie's knife. She got a scolding from Tripitaka about that.

They got past their differences with time, a long time, but Xiaodie will never forgive Bajie for getting Wukong kicked out of the group during the Lady Bone Demon incident.

Tang Sanzang Sanzang took pity on the girl as she had amnesia. He was optimistic about Xiaodie being much kinder than Wukong when they first met. Her shy disposition made him believe that. Even better was that her mere presence seemed to keep Wukong out of trouble. It wasn't until Zhu Bajie entered the group that Sanzang got his first warning flags that Xiaodie was turning into a menace.

I've said before that Xiaodie didn't always agree with the monk, but she's dedicated to her job in protecting him. But because of that, she resents him a little, and she feels bad about resenting him. Look, it's mentally and physically taxing to be a bodyguard, it comes with the job. Xiaodie respects that Sanzang wants to lead a non-violent life, but the least he could do is develop a lick of common sense so that they don't have to worry about him every five minutes. She wishes that he had more faith in Wukong's judgment about the demons they come across. I mean he can see through demonic illusions!

Oh man, now I feel like making an angsty comic where Xiaodie gets mortally wounded protecting Tripitaka, and it forces him to wake up to reality, especially after seeing Wukong and the others cry over her dying body. You bet your ass that Wukong is going to bust his way to the underworld for the second time to retrieve Xiaodie soul and erase her name from the book of death.

And that's it. I don't really have anything to say about Azure Lion, Peng, or Yellow Tusk other than that they definitely trapped her in the Scroll of Memory with Wukong in it. I'm also not sure what to put for Spider Queen or Yin and Jin.

#ask #journey to the west #jttw #lego monkie kid #lmk #journey to the west oc #jttw oc #lego monkie kid oc #lmk oc #oc: marisol orozco leong #oc: mariposa #oc: liang xiaodie #red son #bull demon king #demon bull king #princess iron fan #nezha #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #ao lie #bai longma #white dragon horse #sha wujing #sandy #zhu bajie #pigsy #tang sanzang #tripitaka

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Giving something a name is the hallmark of becoming attached, and Steve knew he had a reason to proceed with caution when Billy brought “Miss Whiskers” in off of the street. When he said that he was just going to clean her up, that he’d try to re-home her once she was in better shape.

Every bone in Steve’s body was against the idea when he saw the sickly little kitten for the first time. He’s always considered himself an animal lover, though he’s more partial to dogs than anything else, so that’s not the reason for his wariness.

Steve knows that Billy is a cat person. He also knows that his boyfriend, bless his heart, loves so fiercely and without abandon that sometimes he winds up hurting himself in the process.

So, yes, Steve approaches the situation with a great deal of caution.

The first day is fine. The two men spend the afternoon hovering over the kitten, bathing her and checking for fleas. Cleaning her face and feeding her ever so carefully with a syringe full of goat’s milk, which they learned is a safe substitute for kittens to drink after some research.

Miss Whiskers, aptly named for her long, scraggly whiskers, is clean and cozy on her first night in their apartment.

Deathly thin, but still. She’s purring and Billy looks so happy swaddling her in a fluffy blanket, so Steve is content. He starts to consider how to go about training Whiskers to not scratch the furniture in the future. Thinks about buying a litter box and scheduling for her to get her shots at the vet, just because he can never say no to Billy. Especially not when he gets so excited.

But Billy also has abandonment issues. It occurs to Steve that maybe he should really learn to say no to his boyfriend more often, even when it feels like the wrong thing to do.

The second day is spent in grief.

Something vicious stabs at Steve’s soul when he and Billy are sat on the back porch, looking out at the grass as the wind gently swishes the blades together. Neither of them acknowledge the fresh patch of upturned dirt near the base of the wall at the other end of the yard.

“I’m sorry, Billy,” Steve coos. He reaches around the blond’s shoulders and gently draws him into an embrace. “You gave her a good last day. She got so many pets and kisses that she wouldn’t have gotten without you.”

The blond sniffles. His shoulders shake with it, and his tired eyes are red and still streaming with tears when Steve looks at him.

He’s never seen him cry like this before.

“She didn’t deserve to die,” Billy rasps.

“I know, love.”

“She wasn’t even… here for that long.” Billy squeezes his eyes shut and leans into Steve’s shoulder. “She was so little, Stevie. She didn’t get to enjoy her life at all.”

He tightens his fist in Steve’s shirt, and the brunet wraps him up in a tight hug. Shushes him and rocks him back and forth as the sobs rattle out of him, broken and raspy.

“At least she had someone love her before she moved on, right? I’ve never seen someone fall in love with a kitten so fast.”

That earns a sad laugh.

“Yeah.”

“Whiskers is a lucky girl, if you ask me.” Steve cards his fingers into Billy’s hair. “You would’ve made her the happiest cat who ever lived, baby. Today just wasn’t her day.”

Billy’s breath hitches and he grips Steve tighter. They sit there for a while, just until Billy has calmed down enough to relax his hold and regulate his breathing again.

Steve takes him out for a burger and a milkshake that evening, and smiles when the blond insists on sitting beside him in the booth.

They’re inseparable for the rest of the night. Even after they’ve gone to bed, Billy is tucked into Steve’s chest, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala. And maybe it’s a lapse in judgment that causes the brunet to have these thoughts, but…

He’s pretty sure they’re going to spend their next night off combing the streets for strays to keep.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tw death #tw pet death #tw grief #hurt/comfort #fluff and angst #sorry to do this to y’all #but this just happened to me and this is how I cope #crying so hard rn that my brain is on fire #ficlet #drabble #Billy’s a cat person you can’t change my mind #my writing

[lazarettta]

Feral

Summary : Alpha goes feral for whatever reason, Omega steps in to calm them down before they are tranquilized and taken away...Second part of 'Into You', can be read separately though...

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Language, minor violence, ABO AU...

All the way from catering, Sasha heard the commotion before she saw the security guards dressed in all black running past the lounge area, all of them were shouting something but she couldn’t really hear what they were saying.

Since she was already done with her snack, Sasha got up to throw away her trash before following the commotion because she was curious. It's been a while since she's gotten some backstage tea.

It wasn’t that difficult to find where the fuss was and by the time Sasha got to the scene she was hit with a strong amount of alpha pheromones. Although there were a lot of alphas around her at the moment there was just one scent that stood out the most to her was the alpha scent that was the most aggressive and furious out of them all.

Before Sasha could pick apart why that particular scent was so familiar, she heard her voice and instantly it all clicked.

Oh no. Oh, shit!

“Scott! Scott! Go get the tranquilizer! This crazy bitch ain’t going down!”

Acting faster than she could think, Sasha elbowed the guard that said it and she made sure to dig her elbow bone into his ribs as she pushed him aside. She was satisfied with the pained grunt he managed to wheeze out.

“Move!”

Sasha fought her way through the thick bodies of the men until she was able to get to the center of the problem and gasped. It was worse than she thought it was. Seth was lying on the ground with a...with a...well his entire face was swollen and covered in blood. Sasha couldn’t stand to look at him anymore and turned her attention to more important matters at hand. Well, for her at least.

Sasha saw a security team holding back the alpha responsible for ruining the face of the current face of the company. Charlotte’s face was beet red and she didn’t look like she was comprehending anything that was being said to her or the whirl of chaos around them. Sasha understood why Scott the security guard was sent off to get the tranquilizers but Sasha knew that it was going to hurt Charlotte and she didn’t want that.

Ignoring her own self preservation, Sasha quickly approached Charlotte and she heard a few other wrestlers watching the scene unfold tell her to stay back but Sasha ignored them their protests. Sasha also ignored the security guards warning her to stay back as she reached up and took Charlotte’s face with both of her hands and winced when she felt how hot the older woman’s skin had become due to how worked up she was. And Sasha still didn't even know why this was all happening in the first place.

“Charlie? You in there?” She asked the alpha steadily, making sure to keep a firm grip on her face and making Charlotte’s dark, nearly black eyes focus only on her, “Hi. Hey. It’s me, honey, it’s Sasha.”

Charlotte took a deep breath, and exhaled even though it sounded a lot like a dangerous snarl, but she still didn’t say anything but she was fully focused on Sasha now—no longer worried about the filthy trash lying behind them a few feet away that was now getting medical attention.

“Can you calm down? For me? Please?”

Charlotte stared down at Sasha unblinkingly...drinking her in, her smell, the feel of her lightly calloused hands on her face...those same hands that always kneaded her muscles after a long day. Charlotte, even in such a primal state of mind, recognized Sasha for who she truly was and the alpha relaxed.

“Goo—”

Seth groaned loudly when one of the medics touched his nose, immediately drawing Charlotte's attention again and the guards had a difficult time holding the ten time champion back—Sasha made Charlotte look at her again, having to put a bit of muscle into the action because the alpha was being especially stubborn.

“Charlotte...I don’t know what happened but you gotta calm down or they’re gonna put you down in quarantine for a week. Please, neither one of us would like that. Okay? A week is a long time, honey, think about it. Can you do this for me? Please?”

Charlotte huffed heavily but this time she nodded that she understood what Sasha was saying. Charlotte's obsidian eyes were still focused on Sasha and she relaxed in the guards hold. Sasha smiled slightly and Charlotte smiled back. It was the first time Charlotte's shown anything other than absolute since this whole thing started.

“Let her go.” Sasha addressed the four security guards that were still holding Charlotte back.

“What the hell? Look lady, we appreciate the help, but she almost killed Seth! She’s getting put down!”

“I said let her the fuck go.” Sasha knew that she had to keep being calm otherwise Charlotte would get set off again and no one wanted that.

“Who are you—”

“I’m..I’m…” Sasha swallowed thickly, looking to Charlotte for help but she was far from being in the state of mind to help herself, let alone anyone else, “Listen, I'm the only person she’ll listen to right now and it’s best to just let her go.”

“She’s feral, we can’t just let her go.” Another guard said, and he seemed a lot nicer than the other guy, “If we let her go and she hurts you...”

“She won’t. I’ll take full responsibility of her, just let...her...go.”

The wrestlers who have gathered around now were whispering among themselves wondering if Sasha lost her damn mind or something to trust a feral alpha. And if the guards were stupid enough to listen to an unmated omega trying to talk down a rapid alpha.

But the guards, despite their better judgment...let Charlotte go and quickly stepped back when Charlotte shook out her arms to get more feeling back into them. None of them wanted to end up like Seth.

Sasha went to let go of Charlotte’s face but the alpha quickly reached up and grabbed them, keeping them in place and everyone tensed…ready to intervene again. Sasha could hold her own in a fight, but Charlotte was significantly bigger than she was—it wouldn't be very fair, especially with Charlotte reverting back to her primal urges. Sasha could end up like Seth easily—they had no idea that those theories and fears were the furthest thing from the truth.

Sasha bit back a smirk when Charlotte began to purr because she’d totally tease her later for it once she consoled Charlotte through this massive slip of control. Sasha she knew Charlotte. She knew her better than anyone...Charlotte was going to try and beat herself up over this.

But for now. Sasha had to deal with her crazed out alpha daddy that no one knew about. Before Sasha even knew it, Charlotte had her in her arms bridal style and was walking away from the entire situation.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Sasha quickly said when she saw Titus and Cesaro making a move to stop them, “I’ll be okay.”

“Sasha...what?” Bayley frowned at them, standing between Becky and Carmella who were equally confused but they all kept their distance because Charlotte still looked out of it and she was now carrying precious cargo.

“I’ll explain later I promise...and I’m sorry.”

Charlotte growled at the three women and held Sasha closer. Everyone pretended that they couldn't smell the protective and excited pheromones that Charlotte was now projecting. It all became abundantly clear then to everyone how Sasha managed to calm Charlotte down enough to be somewhat lucid.

Sasha wasn’t unmated at all, just not yet marked by her alpha, but that was soon to change no doubt. Leaving her alone with a feral alpha was still dangerous but no alpha could actually hurt their mate.

And this wasn’t how Sasha and Charlotte wanted to come out to everyone—especially to their friends but it was too late now. She just hoped that Charlotte would actually listen to her for the rest of the night—or at least give her time to call Stephanie and explain why they won't be at work for the next few days.

FIN

#wwe imagines #wwe superstars #charsha fanfic #charsha imagines #charlotte flair x sasha banks #sasha banks #charlotte flair

[dani-sdiary]

The Reasons Why I've Never Been on a Date:

The painful fucking shyness, I mean, borderline agoraphobia. I won't settle for less than clicking "add to cart" on Mr. Right and having him delivered to my home, with free shipping.

a. Really, though, I've missed a lot of school. And work (and that's only once a week). I can barely make it to my real responsibilities (much less dates). I struggle with just getting out of bed sometimes, let alone leaving my house, and when I do, I'm usually too anxious to go without a parent, which severely decreases my chances of being approached. And if I never go anywhere, how can I expect to meet anyone?

b. It's just that I know I won't meet anyone, though. It's that when I manage to try, when I put my blood, sweat, and tears into making myself look somewhat presentable, when I go someplace people under 70 are, when I do everything Google said makes you approachable: bangs, wearing red, exposing the wrists, red nail polish, smiling, not being on your phone, being alone, and open body language, when I get my hopes up, it never works out. And that makes it even harder the next time. Excuses, excuses.

2. Self-fulfilling prophecy. I see myself as undateable and others just take the cue. Though, chicken and egg. A little girl doesn't suddenly decide she's horrifically ugly and no one will ever love her. It's proven to her, time and time again. Or rather, being seen as beautiful or even average and capable of being loved is not proven to her, and she draws the only logical conclusion.

3. I've had somewhat of an unconventional high school experience. My freshman year was 2020-2021, and we were online until May. Sophomore year we were back in person, but socially distanced, and I left about a month before the end of the school year and took my finals remotely. Junior and Senior year, I've been going to Hometown Community College (HCC). I take some in-person classes and some online, so I'm only on campus for about 4 hours a week. Some of my classmates are adults with families and careers, but a lot of them are around my age. Oh, well.

4. It isn't love, it's only Hometown. Maybe I would be worshiped as a goddess in some other part of the world. Who knows? My city isn't that walkable and I'm a virgin who can't drive, so it is a bit difficult to meet people. There are a lot of Latinos here, and mixed girls like me, and it's a real let-your-freak-flag-fly-so-everyone-will-know-how-different-and-cool-you-are-unlike-the-sheep kind of place so it's not like I stand out in any way. It certainly has it faults, but one thing I will say about Hometown is that you can walk down the street and see face tattoos, blue hair, and women with beards.

5. The other thing is of course the bloodhound sixth sense. Men can smell the eau de desperation and low self-esteem radiating off of me from a mile away. Half-off at Bath and Bodyworks. God, even when I like another girl as a friend, I smother her. When I like someone in any type of way, I ask a million questions, I want to know everything about them, spend every second with them. I expect an intimacy that would take years to build up to just happen over night.

6. I think it would be naive to say that looks weren't a part of it, a significant part, though certainly not all of it. I know everyone says personality is more important than appearance in the end, when you really love someone, and I agree, but it's so hard to even get to that place. It's difficult to make that initial connection if you're not really anyone's type. I've never been approached. No guy has ever just walked up to me and "shot his shot" as they say. No one has tried to strike up a conversation or dared to ask for my number. Yes, I know it's nerve-wracking for men to just walk up to a stranger, especially an attractive one, and try to talk to her, and this doesn't happen to every woman, but it happens to some, and I wish I was one of them. Some men think some women are worth getting over the fear for, and I wish someone saw me that way. And no, I don't approach guys either, I'm nothing if not a hypocrite. I am paralyzed with fear about this because I'm worried about not being rejected. I'm worried the guy won't know I'm trying to flirt with him because I have no idea how, or that I won't know he's letting me down easy because it'll go over my head, or that he'll feel too sorry for me to reject me.

a. I'm high-maintenance while looking low-maintenance. I take hours to get ready in the morning and no matter how much I do and how much money I waste and what lengths I go to it never helps. Worse still than my grotesqueness, which a man could look past, is my insecurity. My constant, constant need for reassurance. He could swear over and over that he loves me as I am but I'll never believe it. To illustrate, you've just read several paragraphs of complaints about my appearance. If you were my man (Lord help you), I'd never shut up.

b. To summarize: annoying, inexperienced, and no oil painting. I think I could've said as much in one sentence.

c. This is how I register in men's heads. Maybe this is totally incorrect, but we women think of you as rather like robots, capable of an incredible compartmentalization that must make life so much simpler. I'm so messy. Men can just decide to not get attached, to not care, to focus on what's really important rather than distractions, and their hearts actually listen to them. And if not, you could've fooled me.

d. I think men sort of scan me. When they first see me, my statistics and vital signs pop up on their cybernetically enhanced vision. They make a crucial decision right then and there, write me off as uninteresting. Again, all speculation. You can't fault me for being a logic-oriented person. If this isn't how it happens, I want some hard proof (lawyer voice). You can't fault me for being a fanciful, gullible, self-absorbed and ridiculous little girl.

e. I'm a little overweight, but not playboy bunny curvaceous and feminine, nor supermodel thin. I'm wide and bulky and flat in the back and the front. I'm average height, not cute and short or old Hollywood statuesque. I have scars and stretch marks and acne and strawberry legs. Pale skin and chestnut hair with a few strands of red that couldn't decide if it wanted to be straight or curly so settled for a halfhearted wave. My haircut is what it is, a mistake that I'm growing out (excruciatingly slowly). Eyes so dark you can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. I wear contacts. Huge, blackheady nose and ultrathin pale, cracked lips. I care deeply about my appearance and I do the best I can to take care of myself. After school and work and work and school, eating healthy feels so impossible, but I try to be somewhat balanced at least. I don't exercise besides the erstwhile jog, but I walk around a lot on campus and I have a physical type of job. Everyone's always told me I look older (mid-twenties) than I am (newly 18). For most of the year, I wear pretty much the same thing everyday- The Dani Uniform (TM). A knee-length skirt and a sweater. Inoffensive, not particularly alluring. f. The worst, though, is the severe hirsutism, my main PCOS symptom. How am I supposed to be confident when my body is a punchline in every movie you've ever seen? I just don't think confidence is meant for me. I'm not one of those take-off-her-glasses-and-she's-beautiful types. I've gotten better, certainly, I'm not waterboarding myself with sweat anymore by forcing myself to wear turtlenecks in the summer. I do my best to be an adult, to pick myself up and get on with it, put on an ugly but brave face and show myself as I am. But the truth is, being able to wear tanktops hasn't made me hate myself any less. I still can't say the "h" word out loud (or type it). I still can't shake the feeling of being dirty and sick, like I have bugs crawling all over my skin. And I could never, ever, show this body to anyone. One day, I'm going to fall head over heels in love, I know that already. Love isn't the issue. I will love someone so much he can't stand it, but I'll never be able to trust him enough. I'm too far gone for that.

6. I don't know. I really don't know. I've turned it over and over in my head for years, driven myself crazy trying to figure it out, connected all my features with push pins and red string to unveil the grand conspiracy. But every reason I can come up with isn't something unique to me, it's something that millions of other people experience, have, do, or are, and that hasn't been a barrier, or hasn't always been barrier, for at least some of them to be in a relationship. I'm just stuck thinking, why wasn't what I did good enough? Why am I the exception? I followed the rules, I consulted the opinions of others around me, I did everything just like everyone else did. I don't know if other people see me this way, but I think of myself as a deeply average person- my personality, my looks, how I grew up. To be perfectly honest, it does surprise me a bit that my love life has been so atypical when every other part of my life hasn't. There's nothing special about me. I'm not a good person, but I don't intentionally hurt others. I'll never be beautiful, pretty, or even average, but there's nothing shocking about the way I look, I'm just plain.

a. Lots of people are shy, especially teenagers. We're all self conscious and absorbed, debilitating insecurity and a simultaneous God complex. Plenty of teenagers date, go to dances, go parking, share a milkshake with two straws...

b. Everyone has low self-esteem. Sure, some more so than others, but the vast majority of people struggle with confidence, even those other people think shouldn't. We're all oracles writing self-fulfilling prophecies all the time. If you had to be confident to get a date, the human race would have died out by now.

c. For fuck's sake, people got married during the pandemic. People fell in and out of and back in love, people lost their virginity, people cheated, people flirted, people joined dating apps and met on zoom, people took off their masks and kissed, people were irresponsible and reckless and human and attractive and attracted. We all lost the school year, but plenty of my classmates didn't lose the experiences.

e. Isn't everyone desperate for something? And hasn't that desperation made me work 10 times harder? It's ambition, it's led me to try nearly everything, and even if it's obvious, isn't a little desperation attractive? I don't know if it is to boys, but it is to me. I want someone to need me, to think about me all the time, to be crazy about me. Maybe I take that too far, but it's not as if I'm proposing on the first date or collecting your used tissues for my shrine. Yeah, I want it bad and I when I fall, I fall hard, but the last thing I want is to make someone uncomfortable. If he told me to slow down, I would.

f. But if all it took was a little makeup and some time at the gym, wouldn't I lose love as soon as I washed my face or gained a few pounds? My appearance is going to change drastically throughout my life, and I don't want love to end when it does. I want to believe that everyone is beautiful. It's important to me to believe that, and that means I have to begrudgingly accept that I'm beautiful, too. I'm worried it would become a slippery slope if I made an exception for myself. I guess I just figured everyone was someone's type. I might not be conventionally attractive, but I thought eventually I'd blindly stumble upon someone who was okay with the way I look. You know what they say about assuming. It makes a (flat) ass of you and me. Yeah, maybe there's a lid for every pot. But my lid will either be blind, an alcoholic with permanent beer goggles, or have some kind of rare fetish.

I am precisely the opposite of what men want. Clingy, needy, and desperate- and not attractive enough to justify my horrible personality. I'm not cool or fun or down-to-earth. I'm not drama-free or go-with-the-flow. I say I'm fine when I'm not because I expect you to read my mind. I'm ugly, uncommunicative, and crazy. I'm a pervert who's far too shy to ever take her clothes off. I'm immature and stubborn and stupid and as hard as I try not be, a hopeless romantic.

Fuck my life.

#romantic #romance #lovers #love #relationships #relationship #dating

[23erica]

In this first photo by Barbara Kruger, we see an image of two characters, one boy and one girl or woman, her age is unclear to me. The characters are interacting with each other; the boy is flexing turned away yet his head is turned to look at her. She is leaning over and pointing at his flexed arm. It seems to be an art style of the 50’s which is important to the context of this piece. There is a red border and words bordered in red too stating “We don’t need another hero”. The black and white photo with the red details is iconic of Barbara Kruger's work. It gives the words a sense of importance and catches the eye. The point of this piece is to question gender norms especially in the eyes of young children. This piece was created in 1987. As we know, women in the 1900’s did not have as much equality as women now. A lot of Kruger's work takes a very feminist stance. The young boy in the photo is already concerned about his strength and power in the world. The words correlate to this because most superheroes had been portrayed as men. Kruger seems to be saying that we don't need more male power in the world, at least till women are of equal power.

In this second photo, we see the figure of a woman. She is in a submissive pose with her body curling into itself. She is surrounded by pins seemingly to hold her in place. My first thought was that this reminded me of when bugs like butterflies get pinned in place to be displayed. This makes me think of how their beauty is powerful enough to be preserved forever yet also forced to perform forever. Knowing Barbara’s strong feminist themes throughout her work, I would argue she is making a similar point. She is showing the control of the patriarchy and its effect on women. There is the same red border in this piece yet the words, “We have received orders not to move”, is in the same black and white as the photo. I like that she chose to keep it black and white because I think the photo is so moving that the words should not draw the eye away from it.

[readerstories]

Magic Fingers - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

I got so many other ideas for fics with Aaron and male reader, this was just an excuse to write some “shorter” smut while I work on some longer fics. (AO3)

Warnings: smut, clothed sex

Wordcount: 2978

Summary: Working hard on a case you offer to give Hotch a massage, because the man is as stiff and tense as a block of wood. (And maybe you want to get your hands on him, but that’s neither here nor there).

The case had been hard, challenging, brutal, and difficult, which had caused the whole team to work on overdrive for the last few days with very little sleep. Which was why Hotch had ordered everyone back to the hotel to get some sleep, as none of you were going to get anywhere being as sleep deprived as you were.

He had tried to stay behind himself, but you had more or less dragged him back to a car while reminding him that even he was human and needed rest. Back at the hotel, in your shared room (because of course with your luck there wasn’t any single rooms left in the hotel for anyone in the team), you stretch before sitting down on your own bed, Hotch walking over to his.

You could see how tense he was, how much he needed to relax. Which was easier said then done when Hotch took as much responsibility as he did, always making sure everything possible was done to catch the unsub and save anyone who might get in harms way. Which was an admirable trait of his, but you could tell by his posture how stiff he had gotten over the last few days. The way he held himself spoke volumes to you, even though you knew he tried to shield it from the world and keep it to himself.

“Hotch?” He looks away from his jacket, the only item of his suit he has manged to force himself out of so far, while your jacket, shoes, and tie was long gone. You pat the edge of the bed next to where you are sitting, Hotch looks skeptical.

“Come on, you need to relax.”

“What does me sitting next to you have anything to do with that?”

“Let me give you a massage.” He raises a brow and you sigh, shifting so you’re kneeling on the bed instead.

“You’ve seen my resume, you know you I thought about going into massage therapy at one point.” Still, Hotch doesn’t move, so you know you have to do more to convince him.

“Remember when Reid had slept on his neck all wrong that one time after staying up way too late and I helped? Or when Morgan messed up his shoulder when going after an unsub and couldn’t sleep for days, and after a massage he finally could? It was the closest I’ve ever seen the man to weeping. Or when JJ was pregnant and hurting, but after letting me give her a massage she joked that if she didn’t love Will, and I wasn’t gay, she would have married me? Hotch, at this point I’ve given a massage to everyone on the team but you, so, get.”

You make a grabby motion with your hands. Hotch sigh, seeming to finally get how serious and stubborn you were being in that moment. He takes off his tie and shoes on the way over to the bed, but doesn’t do anything else, which makes everything a bit harder, but hey, you’ll take anything you’ll get. As Hotch sits down you’re greeted by the lovely opportunity to stare at his back without him noticing or caring too much, which would have been great, if you couldn’t tell how tense he was without even needing a single touch.

When you touch his shoulders he almost jumps, but he forces himself to calm down. Which doesn’t do much, because the instant your hands are on him you can tell it’s going to take a while and some effort to get him relax.

You slowly, ever so slowly start to move you hand, starting out gently at first to get a feeling for him. And ho boy, those are some serious knots if you’ve ever felt some. Your thumb barely brushes over one with some pressure and Hotch winces. You take a breath in trough your teeth, Hotch truly can’t be feeling any sort of pleasant right now, or really, ever you suppose.

“Hotch, if I really didn’t know any better, I would say your shoulders are made of wood with how stiff they are and how many knots I can feel.” Hotch grunts and starts to move like he’s about to stand up, but you drag him back down so he’s fully sitting again with your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh no, none of that, you’re not moving off this bed until all of them are gone and you can you know, actually be a little relaxed for once in your adult life.” Hotch scoffs, but doesn’t try to move again, which you count as a victory.

For the next, you don’t even know how long, your hands wander, squeeze, and press all over Hotch’s shoulders, loosing muscles and knots as good as you can while kneeling behind Hotch. Hotch is mostly quiet, only letting out sighs and the occasional grunt when an especially hard spot is made pliant.

When you’ve done as much as you can in this position you withdraw your hands, noting how Hotch is slumping slightly more forward now than he was when you started.

“Up the bed please, I can’t reach more like this.” Hotch turns so he can look at you over his shoulder.

“You’ve massaged my shoulders, what mor-”

“If your shoulders are any indication, you need a full body massage, so up on the bed please, front down.” You stare down Hotch, not breaking eye contact for one second. You’ve decided that he needs that massage, even if you have to tackle him to the bed to give it to him. He seems to have sensed this as he sighs, and above all miracles, does as you asked of him. He’s on his front, arms tucked under his head to use as a pillow, you now kneeling next to one hip.

Pleased with yourself, you get to work. You start where you left off from before, somewhere in the middle of his back. The knots there aren’t as bad as his shoulders, you suppose Hotch takes ‘bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders’ literally sometimes, but still you do your best to let your hands work over them until they are smoothed out and the muscles beneath your palms relax.

Over time your hands move downwards, and at some point right above the waist of his pants and his belt, your hands on either hip, they brush a particular point or points which make Hotch draw in a breath. Your hands pause before you speak.

“Sorry, you ticklish there?”

“A little.” Hotch reluctantly admits, mostly speaking at the wall he has been staring at for the last few minutes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You say as you file that little nugget of info away in a part of your brain you’ve dedicated to Hotch. You make sure to avoid that spot when your hands starts up again, instead moving to his lower back. There you find a knot truly worth your skilled hands, taking several minutes before you can move your hands from that spot. You realize you’ve accomplished your goal there when Hotch lets out a loud groan as you fell his muscles loosen beneath your hands, which you gather was an involuntary sound by the slight redness on his cheeks.

“See, I told you I was good.” Hotch doesn’t responds verbally, but nods, eyes closed now. You don’t say anything else, instead moving to his legs. You start at one ankle, slowly, slowly moving your way upwards, careful not to go to high for both of your comfort. You can tell when that is by a small twitch on Hotch’s leg, just above where you can feel the start of his boxers through his pants, and then you move down. You do however at on point press on a muscle on the backside of his knee that causes the leg to move on its own, which causes you both to laugh.

When both legs are done, you take your hands off Hotch and lean back, noting how his eyes are closed, almost like he’s sleeping.

“Turn around.” This causes Hotch to abruptly open his eyes and look at you for the first time since he laid down.

“What?”

“I haven’t done your front yet, and I’m not about to let you go with a half finished massage.”

“I-I’d rather not.” Looking over Hotch you quickly realize, with your profiling work and previous experience, why he’s not moving yet.

“If it’s an erection that’s nothing new.”

“Wha-”

“Your body is just reacting to stimuli, happens a lot with men, nothing I haven’t seen before. But if you really want to stop, we can of course do that.” You can see Hotch’s mind at war with himself. You say nothing, pretending that there’s a very interesting spot on the wall above the headboard.

It’s the movement of the mattress that alerts you to the fact that Hotch is moving, as the man himself says nothing. When you look at him, he has his arms over his face, jaw and mouth barely visible. What is very visible, is the erction pushing against the front of his pants, and though you would have liked to look, you only give it a glance. Hotch jumps when you touch his ankle again, but you don’t start just yet.

“Relax, like I said, nothing I haven’t seen before. Happens a lot actually, my hands are just that good you know, like a god or something.” Hotch huffs out a laugh, a smile briefly on his lips. You smile back at him even though he can’t see you, and then concentrate back on the task at hand.

Like before, you start at his ankles, working your way up. Hotch gets less tense almost by the second, breathing deepening as your hands work their magic once more. You don’t go very high on his thighs, actually now you’re lower than before, not wanting to make Hotch uncomfortable in any way.

Next is his hips, you start at the one closest to you and work your way up towards his shoulder instead of across his stomach. He still has his arms over his face, so you poke him in the bicep to get his attention.

“Arm please.” Hotch’s sigh is deep, but he moves his arm so you can take it. You’re gentle, well, as gentle as you can be while kneading out knots from tired muscles. His bicep is firm under your fingers, needing a lot less attention than his shoulders luckily.

When you’re done with that arm, you let it go, tapping on his other so he can move that of his face and switch it for the one you finished with. The angle of it is a bit awkward, and you probably should move for easier access, but honestly you can’t be bothered as you’re very close to being finished. However, your knee protests, telling your body that hey, moving is good as not to let limbs fall asleep.

But instead of doing the logical and probably better thing of getting of the bed and walking around, your tired brain decides to just move one leg over Hotch waist, intending to just move the other one over and after. Hotch draws in a slight breath at the motion and then something in your leg fails you, causing you to drop down on Hotch, putting most of your weight on top of Hotch’s crotch. Hotch moans out loud as his hands flies to your lower thighs and you go stock still.

“Fuck shit, sorry Hotch-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it-” Hotch draws in a deep breath and licks his lips as you worriedly watch his face. You’re mortified, you just dropped yourself on Hotch’s erection, holy fuck, shit.

It takes a few seconds to realize that you’re not trying to move of Hotch’s lap.

But Hotch isn’t trying to move you off either.

If anything, he’s keeping you there, a deathgrip on your lower thighs.

You take a few terrifying seconds to take stock of the situation before experimentally rolling your hips against Hotch. A flex of his fingers, but he does or says nothing as he stares at the ceiling. You on the other hand, is watching his face for any hint of what he’s thinking.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop, and we’ll forget about it ever happening.”

“Ah, um, fuck, shit.”

Silence, one, two, three beats.

“Fuck, move.” You start to get off his, heart already dropping to your guts, but instead Hotch drags you down and rolls his hips against you. This time it’s you who gasps, as your own dick twitches in your pants with the feeling of Hotch grinding against you. Hotch throws his head back, eyes screwed shut.

You’re quick to find your balance and leverage by placing your hands on Hotch’s chest, grinding down, moving as best as you can with Hotch’s own movements. Hotch is letting out a few low moans, which you match with your own as you move and watch the adam’s apple on Hotch’s throat move as he swallows. You want to lean down and kiss his neck, but fuck, you don’t know if you even can kiss him, if he will let you.

Hotch answers that question for you, as just seconds later his eyes open and he moves so he can look at you, catching you staring at him.

“Ah fuck.” Before you can even ask, he’s sitting up. You yelp as the movement causes you to straddle his thighs instead, and then in seconds there’s a hand on the nape of your neck, and even fewer seconds later you’re kissing Hotch.

Fuck.

His lips are firm, but pressing against you with a desperation you’re sure to match. His hands on your hips, holding you hard. Your hands go into his hair, tugging him even closer of that is even possible at this point, which causes him to moan low into your mouth which holy shit, that is, fuck, you can’t even think anymore you think.

The world shifts around you then, and you find yourself on your back, Hotch’s erection pressed against your own. It feels so good, so big and firm, and you want to feel more of him, but you can’t muster the brainpower to do anything about it, so you just tug at his hair and grind against him. Hotch seems of the same mind, as he doesn’t move to do much more either, just moving his hips against yours while kissing you within an inch of your life.

Which should be ridiculous, because you’re both grown men almost fully dressed still, but fuck, that makes it even hotter you think. Or, you try to think, as your mind is mostly chants of ‘more, good, fuck, shit, hot’ over and over again, Hotch’s name thrown in the mix for good measure.

Hotch moves away from your lips, but doesn’t move far, instead peppering kissed down your neck on the little skin he can reach. You moan and gasp, moving one hand from his hair to his back, trying to press him even more against you.

“Fuck, shit, I’m close, so close!” You frantically confess towards the ceiling.

“Me too, me too.” Hotch breathes against your neck, one hand moving so he can unbutton your shirt and get his lips on your collarbone. He starts to suck and bite at a spot there, and that is what does you in. You come just seconds after your shirt is open for him, moaning loudly.

“Fuck!” You hear Hotch mutter against your skin, and then a mutter of your name as he comes, in a low baritone that you think you will remember for the rest of your life.

You lay there panting for several seconds, or perhaps minutes, you’re not sure, just a mess of limbs, most of Hotch’s weight on top of you.

It’s hot, in more ways than one, which is what forces you to push Hotch off you, to get some air. He goes willingly, flopping down on his back next to you on the bed. A few panting breaths before you both turn to look at the other, smiles, then laughter as the situation sinks in. You’re surprisingly the first to gain somewhat of a control over yourself, grinning as you speak.

“We just came in our pants, what are we, teenagers?” Hotch pushes his weight up on his elbows, wincing as apparently something pulls somewhere.

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t feel like one.” Hotch smiles as you, which you return, letting your eyes wander all over him now that you can. His hair is standing in a million different directions, there’s a blush to his cheeks, his clothes are rumpled, a wet spot is forming on the front of his pants, and he looks as fucked and blissed out as you, and most certainly he, feels. You hum, your attention going back to his face.

“We should get cleaned up.” You state, which Hotch nods in response.

“I think you mean you should get us cleaned up. My legs feels like jello right about now.” You raise a brow and he grins.

“I think your massage turned off something in my legs.” You huff, incredulous, but sit up anyway.

“I’m good, but not that good.”

“Well, the sex certainly helped.” You laugh and lean down to give him a kiss, which is mostly smiling lips pressed against each other.

“Flatterer.”

“Hey, what can I say, you got magic fingers.” You smack his chest and laugh as you get up to go the bathroom, your own legs a little shaky, which Hotch doesn’t comment on, but you know he liked by the way he grins at you when you get back to the bed.

#aaron hotchner x male reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #smut #lemon #written #male!reader #aaron hotcner x male!reader #male reader #2000

[sombreboy]

Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I doing well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just to be his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would've made sure of it."

© sombreboy 2021. Do not repost, edit or translate.

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

[ezm-imagines]

I know we don’t like j*hn w*lker... but I need bucky x reader with a side of bucky and walmart cap drama — like fake cap just constantly hitting on reader and bucky (or reader honesty) putting him in his place?

feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t spark inspiration!!

jealousy, jealousy (bb imagine)

Summary: John Walker being gross to you and Bucky being pisses about it.

Word Count: 1.6k

“He makes me sick,” Bucky gritted through his teeth, watching as Walker took your wrist and led you across the bar.

The team had needed more information from Madripoor, but since Bucky and Sam had already blown their covers quite recently, they had sent in you and Walker.

You two were pretending to be a well-known mafia couple: you had on a tight, revealing red dress and John had his gross hands all over you. He was clearly loving it. You were clearly not.

Bucky and Sam sat undercover in the corner of the bar as back-up if anything happened, meaning Bucky had a front row seat of watching Walker be more disgusting than usual.

You said something to the bartender with a laugh and Walker joined in with a short comment and more laughter, slinking his hand around your waist.

Even from across the room, Bucky knew you well enough to tell how you tensed the second his hand contacted your skin. Ever the actor, he was sure no one else could recognize it. But he did.

He balled his hands into fists, trying to use the pain and the pressure of its tightness to calm himself down.

“You need to chill,” Sam muttered beside him, “I know you like Y/N but if you blow up, you’re going to get her killed. Walker’s just doing his job.”

“Hah,” Bucky barked out a bitter laugh, “Yeah, and he’s loving it just a little too much.”

“Look, you think I like this anymore than you? I hate watching this shit, man. Y/N’s like a sister to me. But suffering Walker’s touch is better than a bullet wound from each gun in the building. Here,” he pushed his drink over to Bucky, “You need this more than me.”

Bucky slid it back. He was not in the mood to drink. Even if alcohol had little effect on him anyway, he wanted to be stone cold sober as he watched Walker.

Walker took a casual look around the bar as he continued to make conversation with the bartender. His eyes fell on Bucky’s glare and he smirked.

As he continued speaking, his hand traveled down your backside to rest on your butt. The bartender couldn’t see it, and even if they could, it would just be in line with your covers. But Walker knew what he was doing. When the bartender began responding, Walker gave a little wink back to Bucky as he squeezed your butt.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Bucky grit out, his Winter Soldier side coming fully alive.

Sam clamped a hand on Bucky’s arm, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“But you see what he’s fucking doing! He’s taking advantage of her!”
“And he’s trying to piss off you! Anyone who comes within a mile of you and Y/N can tell you’re head over heels for her. It’s a power move. He’s trying to assert a position over us. And her.”

“Oh, I’m going to assert something…”

“Like hell you are. You’re going to sit here and wait for them to give the signal and then we leave.”

“And we leave Walker behind, bleeding to death in some alleyway.”

“Barnes—“

But Sam’s words were interrupted, as you leaned down to readjust the straps of your heels: the signal that you had gotten the information you needed.

Walker grinned broadly with your ass on full display as you bent over. He gave it a little slap and made some joking remark to the bartender, who heartily agreed with him.

Bucky was seething. Thank fuck you guys were about to leave, because he was about to make another Winter Soldier scene in Madripor and kill everyone in eyesight.

You stood back up, gave Walker an intense look, and began strutting towards the door of the bar.

Walker took the last swig of his drink and set down cash on the bar before running off after you.

“We should wait a while before we leave,” Sam instructed.

“And give Walker alone time with her? No fucking way.” Bucky stood up immediately and stalked out of the bar.

Sam sighed and finished his drink before following to make sure Bucky wasn’t about to do something stupid.

By the time the boys had come outside and found you in the alleyway around the corner, Walker already had blood streaming down his cheek.

“— if you EVER pull ANYTHING like that again I will leave you in a dumpster to rot, you fucking hear me?”

“Come on, baby, I know you have a crush on me. You’re just scared of admitting it in front of Barnes, but I can tell with the looks you give me.”
“The looks of pure hatred? God, you’re fucking delusional.”

“Says the bitch who’s pretending she doesn’t like me.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but found Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around Walker’s throat within a blink of an eye, “Do I need to shut you up or can I cut off your fucking hands first so you never touch a lady like that again?”

He landed a sharp punch to Walker’s nose, “If you even breathe in her direction again—“

“What?” Walker laughed through his bleeding nose, “You’ll kill me? Fuck, you’re angrier than she is. Gee, I wonder why that could be…?”

Bucky grabbed Walker by his button up and threw him across the alleyway, slamming him against the brick wall.

“You’re gonna make a scene,” Sam warned.

“It’s fucking worth it if I never see him again,” Bucky replied, stalking over to where Walker’s body had fallen.

Walker groaned, but quickly picked himself up. Stupid super soldier serum.

He swung punches at Bucky but missed each one until Bucky grabbed one arm from the air and twisted it around him, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Bucky hissed in his ear.

“Oh, I don’t?” Walker smirked, “It’s pretty obvious, Buck. I mean, it’s one thing to find out that the Winter Soldier has feelings, it’s another to find out he’s a little puppy bitch for the girls he likes.”

This distraction allowed Walker to get a hit on Bucky, square in his jaw.

The shouting and the fighting was beginning to draw a crowd. Shit. Shit shit shit.

You ran in between the two men, prying them from each other.

“Knock it off!” You shouted, before muttering out of earshot of the spectators, “You’re gonna fucking get us all killed. Let’s get back to the quinjet and you guys can kill each other there.”

The boys separated, but not without a few last hits each.

***

Bucky was wrapping his hand on his bed in the Tower when he heard a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he called, not looking up from his wounds.

When you said they could fight later, they hadn’t taken that lightly. They had fought even harder than when he and Sam had taken the shield away from Walker the other week.

“Hey,” you stepped inside.

Bucky immediately forgot about what he was doing, all attention on you, “Hey.”

“How ya holdin’ up?” You motioned to his first aid kit.

“I’ll be fine in a day. It’s really nothing.”
You quirked an eyebrow, “Your forehead is split open.”

He let his fingers slide across the large gash that slid down his forehead and toward his temple. The bleeding had stopped at least.

“Like I said,” he continued with a calm smile, “I’ll be fine.”

You shook your head and made your way over to sit beside him. You took the alcohol and a few cotton pads from the first aid kit, wetting them, “You know, you didn’t need to beat him up for me. I could do that on my own.”

You dabbed the cotton on his forehead cut, but he barely flinched at the pain. Guess he was used to pain, huh?
“I know,” he replied truthfully. He clearly had no doubt of that, “It wasn’t about defending you.”
Your eyes slid from his cut down to meet his, “Then what was it about?”

Suddenly, you couldn’t remember how to breathe normally anymore. You were so close to him, and he was looking up at you from under his lashes with those bright blue eyes…

Until he wasn’t. He looked down. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You questioned, “Because it sounded like Walker did.”

Bucky’s voice was hoarse as he spoke up, “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth would be nice,” you teased lightly. But when he looked at you again, his gaze was anything but light.

You swallowed thickly.

“I mean, obviously I care about you, Y/N. You’ve been here for me for years. I don’t like seeing someone take advantage of you. Especially like that.”

“Is that it?”

He hung his head, “I know what you’re trying to do here, doll, but don’t make me say it. You deserve better than me. Someone like Sam or Steve. It’s better like this.”

“For who? Because it isn’t for me.” You took his rough, flesh hand in yours, “Buck. Come on. Please.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, before just saying what he’d wanted to say for years now, “I love you, doll. Always have. I don’t like seein’—“

But you interrupted him with a kiss. He melted into it desperately, afraid this was the only one he’d ever get. The moment you started pulling away, he stopped, accepting the inevitable.

“I love you, too, dummy. You don’t get to get away from me that easy.”

He blushed slightly, before speaking up, “Then can we do that again?”

You grinned and nodded, leaning back in to kiss him again. This time, he threaded a hand through your hair and pulled your jaw into him.

Okay. So maybe Walker was good for one thing…

#possessive!bucky #posessive!bucky #avengers imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfic #my writing

[fics-by-caroline]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Magical!Reader

Summary: You and Loki are part of the Avengers, but the pair of you have different ideas of what justice entails than the rest of the group; i.e., more horror, more drama, an eye for an eye. And man, do you two ever look sexy covered in blood.

Category: Smut (18+ only, please!)

Warnings: Smut (blood kink, oral sex -- f receiving), rough sex, porn with some plot), language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, smoking, alcohol consumption, mention of human trafficking.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so please be nice 🥺

   Taking a drag from a cigar in the corner of the dimly-lit speakeasy, your target looked you up and down. Even without tapping into his thoughts, you could tell that he liked what he saw; how the black dress you wore hugged your figure, how you had crossed your legs in a way that allowed him to catch the red bottoms of your heels, red that was reflected in your lipstick and nails. You turned to make eye contact with him, and were immediately hit with hearing him imagine you on your knees sucking him off in one of his fancy cars and afterwards kicking you out onto the street.

   Typical, You thought with disgust, finishing your martini. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Feeling him get up and walk towards you, you shot a knowing look at Loki across the bar.

   “Can I buy you a drink?” The man’s voice was dripping in disgusting salaciousness. He sat beside you, reeking of the over-application of cologne, whiskey, and cigar smoke.

   You shot him a demure smile. “A dirty martini, drier than the Sahara.”

   The man waved down the bartender before leaning closer to you. “Michael Ashbourne.”

   You suppressed an eye roll, taking instead to lighting a cigarette. “I know who you are, Mr. Ashbourne.”

   “And what is it that you know of me?” Ashbourne stroked your hair with a drunken finger.

   Uncrossing your legs, you turned to face him. “That you are one of the worst Midgardian men alive today. You cheat people out of their winnings in various casinos around the world, making yourself and your friends — no doubt the ones who surrounded you in that corner over there — some of the richest men in the world, while managing to operate under the radars of your enemy governments. You sell weapons and drugs because you always want even more money on top of the billions you already have, not caring about the damage you cause. You drink the most expensive liquors, sleep with all the women you please, and leave people eating the dust in your wake. But what brings you to the epitome of disgusting actions is your engagement in the trafficking of girls, once again, for even more money.” Even though you kept your voice low, you made sure to lace every word with biting poison.

   Ashbourne pulled back in shock, unmoving and speechless.

   You smirked at his silence. “Your cunningness is almost impressive, especially for a human. You manage to remain one step ahead of the mewling mortals who are left to crawl in your fading footprints. Bravo. Unfortunately for you, however, I am not one of them.” You waved a finger, from which a small ribbon of white magic followed.

   “Who the hell are you?” Ashbourne hissed.

   “A hero in the eyes of the people you have crossed, and the villain in yours.”

   Ashbourne scoffed condescendingly. Stupid bitch, you heard him think. “Speaking in mysterious riddles just makes you look stupid, missy. I don’t know how you know what you know, but it’s a bit too much for my liking.” He raised a hand, beckoning over the large men who had accompanied him.

   You sighed, unimpressed. Before they could so much as reach for their belt, you pulled the pistol from your garter stockings and fired silenced shots in between their eyes, before holding a dagger against Ashbourne’s throat. The speakeasy froze in horrified silence.

   With a small chuckle at the sudden shock and fear in Ashbourne’s muddy eyes, you called to Loki. “Darling, are there others?”

   “No darling, not here … but we can’t have witnesses, can we?” Loki sauntered up to you, kissing you on the head. He looked around at the few bystanders in the bar, terror keeping their feet rooted in place.

   “Loki, is that really necessary —”

   You were cut off by Loki launching towards the horrified bystanders like a cat pouncing on prey, his daggers slicing through their necks gliding ease. He finished off by throwing a knife into the bartender’s skull, silencing his terrorized mind that shrieked in your own so annoyingly. Loki looked back at you with an amused glint in his eyes, blood on every surface of the speakeasy, including Loki’s own body. Gesturing around him, he noted dryly, “They were dead in seconds, no suffering.”

   You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Ashbourne, who sat with eyes wide and mouth agape. You smirked and applied a bit more pressure to the blade in your hand, drawing small beads of blood. You snuffed out your cigarette and stood up, toying with his bowtie as your heel dug into his foot. You could taste the fear that drenched his mind. “What’s this?” You cooed. “Feeling scared?”

   “Ah, you’re so right, my love,” Loki smiled, looking around the room at the bloody mess he created. “Not using magic is so much more fun. I missed getting my hands dirty.”

   You chuckled lowly. You couldn’t help but stare at him hungrily; there was something in the way the blood splatter stood out against his pale skin that awoke an arousal in you. Shaking your head, you turned back to the man under your knife and cocked an eyebrow. “How do you think I should do this? Stabbing is too classic, going for the neck is too neat.”

   “Unzip him, dear,” Loki hummed. He shot a bolt of green magic towards the man, binding him in glowing ropes that wrapped around his pitiful body. Noticing your dry look, he shrugged. “I want a proper view of your handiwork, and I can’t have that if I’m holding him.”

   “Fair enough,” You said. After a moment’s thought, you waved your hands, making Ashbourne’s shirt disappear in a white flash of your own magic.

   “Wait, wait, stop. What do you want? Money? I have money. What do you want?” Ashbourne pleaded.

   “I want ...” you said coldly, “to hear you scream.”

   You stepped forward and sunk your dagger into his lower abdomen, slicing upwards smoothy, careful as to not sever any major blood vessels. Ashbourne screamed in agony — music to both yours and Loki’s ears. You grinned at the blood that spurted out to meet you, and tossed the dagger onto the surface of the bar. You looked at the open mess in front of you and sunk your hand into the open cavity, making Ashbourne wail.

   Loki smacked Ashbourne’s face with a deadly glare. “Stay awake, you.”

   You reached farther into Ashbourne’s gut, quickly finding the pulsating aorta. You looked up at Ashbourne’s paling face, cheek now sporting a bloody handprint from where Loki had slapped him, and pulled on the artery, which snapped and spurted hot blood all over you. Loki released his magic binds, leaving the body of the man to collapse like a rag doll onto the floor, very much dead.

   You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you discarded the shred of aorta in your hands onto the lifeless body. You turned to look at Loki, who was smiling back at you with a familiar, blazing fire behind his eyes. He reached over and picked up your discarded dagger from the tabletop. He looked it over once, then swiped his tongue up one side of the blade. You groaned in arousal at the sight.

   “The taste of justice, my dear,” He said, licking his lips.

   He turned his fiery gaze back on you, holding the knife out for your taking. Without breaking eye contact, you licked up the other side, the metallic taste of Ashbourne’s blood spreading through your mouth only adding to the wet ache between your legs.

   “Fucking hell,” Loki breathed, the large bulge in his dress trousers clearly evident.

   You took the dagger, swiping away the rest of the blood that stained it on your finger and licked it clean. A deep rumble escaped from Loki’s lips before he smashed his lips onto yours, your tongues trading the tastes of blood and saliva. With a sharp tug, Loki tore your dress down and pinched your nipples between his bloodied fingers as he backed you up onto the bar. While normally, he would take his time with you, tease you at a torturously slow pace, make you plead and squirm beneath him, he now was fuelled purely by an animalistic flame, his lips and teeth marking your lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones. You broke apart only for you to render the pair of you naked by way of a flick of the wrist and a flash of white light. You stared at each other, both of you breathless and admiring how the blood that drenched your clothing had stained your bodies in a beautiful pattern of death.

   “I love you so much,” You whispered.

   “I love you too,” Loki said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip lightly.

   In a flash, the momentary gentleness was gone as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them. You shouted out in pleasure, then gasped when you felt Loki’s tongue on your clit.

   “Fuck, Loki!” You hissed, throwing your head back and grinding deeper onto Loki’s fingers and tongue.

   The most audacious and obscene sounds filled the speakeasy as Loki twisted his fingers inside your cunt and attacked you with his mouth. You moaned unabashedly and Loki in return groaned against your body. His nips against your clit were anything but gentle, his fingers fucking your cunt so deeply, so gloriously, that your entire body sparked with invisible electricity.

   “You’re going to cum for me,” Loki growled, “you’re going to cum for me and make me drink it as you do.”

   You nodded into the air, gasping, panting, writhing under him. You clenched around his head, locking Loki into place, and came on his face, rolling and thrusting your hips against his mouth. Loki held your hips and drank your release until your orgasm finally finished washing over you.

  Before you could begin to catch your breath, Loki seized your neck in one large hand and pushed himself inside of you in one fluid motion, causing the both of you to moan loudly. He started moving his hips immediately at a quick and relentless pace, splitting you apart in pleasure. You reached up to wrap your arms and legs around him desperately. As he hit that sweet spot that no other could, you brought your nails down his back, no doubt drawing blood. All thoughts had disappeared from your minds, pure animalistic pleasure and arousal clearing everything else out. Your combined energy made the lights spark and flicker, furniture going flying as your grip on your magic became weaker. Loki slammed into you, your walls tight around him, his pelvis grinding in such a way that he moved against your clit. You were only barely registering how you clung onto him for dear life, the most indecent noises pouring from both of your mouths, bodies slick in blood and sweat sliding against one another. Your connection into each other’s minds let you both know that the other was just as close to their climax without speaking. Expletives punctuated your shared groans and screams, Loki’s grip on your body so tight that bruises were sure to follow, your teeth and nails marking his skin.

   “Loki, I — fuck — Loki!” You cried as you felt your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

   “I know, I — ah! I know —!” Loki groaned, biting your neck.

   You exploded again with a scream and you slammed your hand onto the table, releasing a huge pulse of magic that levelled the room around you. Green explosions set off around you as Loki lost control and spilled into you with a stammering thrust and deep groan. Even though your eyes were both closed, you could see each other in your minds, totally blissful and exhausted, chests heaving. Loki’s lips found yours in a loving kiss.

   “We should ... we should clean up here before the others come by,” You said, still out of breath.

   Loki nodded wordlessly. He pulled out of you, causing you to whimper. We waved his hand, and the speakeasy righted itself in a glow of green light. Tables and chairs fixed themselves, light fixtures hung back up on the ceilings, blood and bodies disappeared, until the only remnant of your activities was the gore that still covered your naked bodies. You stood up and cricked your neck before cleaning yourself and Loki up, and dressing the pair of you in the dress and tuxedo you two were wearing. 

   “What will we say to the others when they ask about the sudden disappearance of everyone here?” You asked slowly.

   “Don’t worry, love,” Loki grinned, “we can tell them the truth. We’re both too valuable for them to kick us out of the group.”

   You laughed and took Loki’s outstretched arm, walking out into the cool night.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #mcu loki #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #loki smut #loki oneshot #smut #mcu #mcu fanfiction #smut fanfiction #smut fic

[spidernerdsblog]

Hey dear💟 how are you? Can I ask for some mob!tom smut?? Like he's smoking a cigar at a boring wedding when he meets a mob!reader and after talking a bit things just happen and he takes her home for fucking all night?

Oh and ends in fluff??

Hi nonnie! I'm fine hope you are well too. Here's your request hope you like this.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Mob! Reader

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, mature content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

His Queen, Her King

Being the mob boss Tom had to be a part of various social gatherings, galas, parties etc but the most he dreaded were weddings. Especially when you're an eligible bachelor, people around you are constantly nagging you with the most evident question ‘when is your turn?’ There were several occasions where the leaders of other mobs had tried to set him up with their daughters to forge an alliance but he would turn them down every time because he never found them to be his match. He likes to be in control but that doesn’t mean he would settle for a mere puppet who would dress up pretty and do as told, he wanted someone powerful, fierce who would challenge his authority, a real queen to his vast empire.  

It was one of his childhood friends' wedding day so he couldn't say no. The hall was buzzing with people as he was seated with a couple of his friends at a table drinking and laughing loudly talking about their busy lives and their businesses. One hour to the wedding reception and Tom was already bored he lit up a cigar and took a long puff from it watching everyone silently. 

Just then you walk in through the doors in a long red silk dress hugging your body like a second skin with a thigh high slit paired with pointed stilettos making heads turn. Your hair styled into loose curls cascading down your shoulders complimenting your dewy makeup. Your wrists and ears sparkling with the most priceless authentic diamonds.  Apart from being the maid of honor you are the only woman in the mob business who owns the biggest diamond business in the country. 

People were obviously envious of your power though they never dare to say anything to your face but you have heard how people think you just got lucky with the business as the only daughter of your father, women have no place in the mob even to the extent of being slut shamed and being accused of sleeping with your rivals to run the business. You had simply shrugged it off and showed those people with a flourishing business and earning double profits than your father used to earn when he used to run the mob. You walk over to your best friend.

“Congratulations Jane, finally you’re a married woman now!” you give her a hug.

“Thanks Y/N it feels like a dream honestly” she chirps “but when are you…”

“Please you also don’t start” you both chuckled and continued gossiping.

“Man why are these receptions so dull and boring” Matt groaned “couldn’t they do it at a bar or strip club?”

“Yeah it would have been fun to watch your wife beat the shit out of you after you flirted with one of the strippers” Carl mocked to which everyone laughed out loud including Tom.

“Hey!!” Matt revolted in protest as all of them laughed again.

Your conversation was constantly getting disturbed with their constant brawls and loud laughter. Even the other guests had a frown on their face with the noise they were making.

“I apologize on behalf of my friends, they can sometimes be a little loud” Paul the groom said apologetically.

"It’s ok I know how to deal with guys like them. Let me handle it” You offer and stride your way to their table. 

“Sorry to crash the fun boys but some of us are actually here to attend the reception not to hear your meaningless chatter” you jibe forcing a smile as the men turn their attention towards you. Tom puts down his cigar blowing out the smoke as he takes a quick glance of you.

“I'm sorry love, are we offending you?” he remarks with a smolder and the men around him hollered. The corner of your lips quirk into a sly smirk as you step closer to him drawing a finger along his jawline.

“It will take a lot more than this baby face to offend me” you taunt him back with a grin amusing everyone including Tom at your comeback.

“Oooh damn!” the men hollered again while you turned your back and strutted off to join your friends again. Tom just sat there completely blown away by your boldness. He had heard about you but now that he saw you he understood that you weren’t just a beautiful face after all who just got lucky in the mob business you were a complete badass. The very image of you radiates power and triumph. 

His eyes seeked yours the whole time and then he found you finally all by yourself near the open bar drinking a glass of whisky. He approaches you as he clears his throat.

“Ahem, hey” you lift your eyes from the glass and then put it down on the counter smacking your lips.

“Here to apologise for being a jerk?” you quip.

“I thought we were even already” he remarks with a smug grin.

“Yeah maybe” you half shrug

“Tom Holland by the way” he reaches his hand out and you dismiss it by picking your glass again and taking a sip. 

“I know who you are, the boss of the most powerful mob in London” you say nonchalantly

“Keeping tabs I see” he smirks as he signals the bartender to hand him a drink as well.

“It’s a risky business Holland you gotta keep records about your potential rivals” you state blandly.

“Absolutely, couldn’t agree more” he takes a sip wincing at the strong taste of the drink. 

“So all alone? Bossman didn’t get any arm candy for the night?” you snicker.

“Only a queen fits beside a king like me darling and I haven’t found one yet , what about you?”

“Well I haven’t found my king either” you clink your glass to his as you both gulp down your drinks.

“You look ravishing in that dress I must say” he compliments with a suave in his voice.

“Thank you. You don’t look bad either” you flirt back as you bite the corner of your lip checking him dressed in an Armani suit the Rolex on his wrist glinting in the golden light of the chandeliers.  

“I really admire you. Honestly it’s really hard and dangerous to run a business when you’re a woman” there was a different kind of sparkle in his eyes which you recognize very well.

“What can I say I just love playing with danger” you shrug with sass in your voice. 

“You wanna get out of here? I’m sure nobody will miss us” he licks his lips eyes darkening with pure desire. 

“Well what are we waiting for?” you smirk with a mischievous glint in your eyes both of you coming to a silent agreement.

The whole ride to his mansion was a blur as soon as you were inside he had you pinned up against the door as his lips met yours hungrily. His lips tasted of burnt cigar and whisky.  He started leaving trails of kisses on your jaw and neck while his hand snaked down to your thighs through the slit of your dress unclasping the thigh holster from your leg as it dropped on the ground with a loud clatter. His hand moved further to your flimsy lace thong to feel your sex. 

“So wet already, love? I haven't even touched you properly” you can hear the smirk in his voice. His hand goes to unzip your dress as he leans in for a kiss but you stop him placing two fingers on his lips slowly tracing them. 

“Bedroom?” you ask breathing heavily.

“Upstairs left” he informs between shallow breaths.

You gave him a peck on his cheek and made your way up the stairs. Tom’s eyes never left you as he watched you slide the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders and dropping it off on the floor striding away in just your strapless bra and thong your heels clacking against the marble floor. Tom scoffed in amusement a toothy grin forming on his face . You were really something who was just driving him crazy.

The moment he walked in the bedroom he felt himself twitch inside his pants. There you were sitting in the middle at the edge of the bed slightly leaning on your palms with your legs crossed one above the other. You looked like a viscous siren slowly entrapping him with your charm and beauty. 

“Nice bedroom” You gently smoothed the silk sheets with your hand.

“Glad you liked it” he said smiling.

“Are you just gonna stand over there?” You unclipped your bra and lazily dropped it on the floor putting on a show for him as you lifted a hand pointing a finger motioning him to come closer. A low groan escaped from his mouth at the sight of your exposed breasts as he strolled towards you unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his body drinking in your almost naked form with lustful eyes. You subconsciously licked your lips marveling his taut muscles. He tilted your chin up as you gazed in his brown eyes with parted lips.

“God you’re gonna be the death of me” he mumbles in a husky voice.

“That was the plan all the time, I can then take over your mob” you giggle playfully.

“You minx” he knelt down to capture your red tinted lips passionately tongues clashing against each other as you ran your fingers across his abdomen, nails scraping his skin. He gently pushes you down on the mattress as you shift back in the middle of the bed. He spreads your legs to accommodate himself as he crawls up to be at level to your face pressing a soft kiss to your swollen lips. Goosebumps covered your skin as you felt his bulge brushing on your thighs. You tilted your head to the side as he took the opportunity to suck marks on the nape of your neck. One hand squeezing your ass the other palming your breast as he placed butterfly kisses all over your skin.

“So pretty” he mumbles, pressing kisses between the valley of your breasts,you shuddered when he flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud.

“Oh” you gasped when he wrapped his mouth around your breast sucking the nipple between his teeth, kneading the other fingers pinching and tugging on it. After paying equal attention to the other one too before continuing his journey south. Your stomach flutters as his lips trail down your rib cage, navel the cold gold chain dangling down his neck feeling ticklish against your hot skin. He placed a soft kiss over your soaked panties and you felt that your body was set to fire as you gasped lightly chest heaving up and down. A smirk forms on his face as he moves to kiss your inner thighs ignoring the place where you needed him the most.

“Please” you let out a quiet whimper

“Please what darling?” he whispers with a husky voice. 

“Touch me” 

“I’m touching you love” he lightly chuckles, you whined in protest. “You gotta be more specific with your demands, love, what do you need?” he coos.

“I-I need you, your mouth” you breathed out. 

“See that wasn’t so hard” he practically rips off your thong and throws the shredded fabric away letting out a low growl at the sight of your glistening cunt. He hooked his arms to your thighs, the rings on his fingers felt cold against your skin. He licks a long stripe up your folds sending jolts of pleasure up your body making you squirm in his hold.

“So sweet” he mumbles against your heat. You let out a soft gasp, your hands threading into his soft brown curls as he swirled his tongue through your folds.

You cry out when his tongue flicks your swollen clit giving his hair a harsh tug he groans into your heat. He continued to suck on your clit between his lips pushing a thick digit inside you. Your body arched bucking your hips into his mouth he had to place a hand on your lower stomach to keep you in place. He then adds another finger pumping it in and out of you his teeth grazing your sensitive bud soothing it after with his tongue immediately. 

“Fuck!” You moaned feeling euphoric eyes fluttering shut as he devoured you. Your body tensed up when he added another finger to your heat, your one hand was pulling his hair painfully and the other squeezing your breast rolling your nipple between your fingers. He curled his fingers hitting your spot sending you over the edge.

“C’mon love, let it go want you to cum all over my fingers” he moaned into your heat the vibrations leading you to tumble down the edge as you came undone around his fingers. He helped you ride your high still sucking on your clit, your legs trembled as he lapped up all your juices. He pulled away after sometime his chin glistening with your arousal. 

He got rid of his dress pants along with his boxers and then crawled over to you. You gazed into his warm brown eyes still in your post orgasmic haze as you pulled him down to capture his lips with an urgent need. You tasted yourself on his lips as he deepened the kiss grinding his hips into yours. 

A soft gasp escaped your lips when you felt the tip of his member brushed against your entrance. He gripped his member giving it a few pumps before lining up against your core. You placed a hand flat on his stomach signalling him to stop. He knitted his brow in confusion when you flipped him over to be on top him sitting on the back of your knee straddling his waist. 

“I wanna ride you” you whisper in a sultry voice and his lips curl up to a smirk.

“Then go ahead, darling” he shuffles back a little resting himself comfortably against the headboard. You brought your hand to your mouth and gave it lick before grabbing his member using it for lubrication, slowly pumping his length and lining it up to your weeping core. Your breath hitched when you felt his tip slide through your entrance stretching your walls in a nice way. You slowly sank down on his length feeling so full of him. You stayed like that, your walls warm and snug squeezing him like a vice. Tom groaned when you clenched around him. 

“Oh god Y/N please move or I'm not gonna last for another minute” you leaned down to kiss him starting to move your hips slowly adjusting to his thick shaft.

“Shit” He hissed as you lifted yourself hand gripping on his thighs for leverage to go a little faster, the soft sound of your skin slapping against each other filled the room. Your stomach clenched as you paced up and down his cock, each time filling you up to the hilt. His hands held your hips, fingers digging in your skin groans rumbled in Tom’s throat as he clenched his jaw. He gazed at you with hooded eyes smitten by the way your back arches towards him and your tits bounce with every thrust.

You started to feel a little exhausted, a thin sheen of sweat lining your bodies as you slowed down your pace. Tom’s hands slid down to your ass, spreading your cheeks as he took control, thrusting up into you. You jolted forward moaning out loud, grasping on to his shoulders tightly for support. 

“Just because you're on the top don't think you're in control darling” he says cheekily you let out a light chuckle at his comment before whimpering when his cock hit your sweet spot.

He lifted his knees, planting the heels of his feet into the mattress for leverage as he began to fuck you roughly. He grunted, feeling your walls clench around his cock with every thrust of his hips. You leaned down to kiss him sloppily he reciprocates by slipping his tongue into your mouth swirling it inside your mouth. You moaned into the kiss as you felt a tight knot build inside your stomach.

“Tom” you moan breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as your hands slide down his shoulder to his chest nails scratching his skin.

“Gonna cum again for me love?” Tom murmured against your lips as he spanked your ass lightly. You nodded your head vigorously starting to roll your hips desperately. He brought his thumb to your swollen clit and rubbed circles as the coil inside you snapped and you screamed out your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. Tom wasn’t too far either as he continued rutting his hips and soon he was spilling inside you.

“Fuck.” He moaned as his face screwed up in pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing as he emptied his seed into your tight pussy, not letting go of his grip on your body. You collapsed onto his chest panting both of you catching your breath, your walls still pulsating around his cock, deeply buried inside you. He caressed your back gently, your chest pressed to his, head resting over his heart as you listened to his steady heartbeat while your fingers fiddled with the chain around his neck. He took your hand and kissed on your knuckles gently brushing his thumb over them lovingly.

“I really like you” he finally spoke out

“What?” you frowned, still a bit dizzy.

“I think I have fallen in love with you Y/N” he confesses softly as you straighten yourself to look him in the eyes.

“Are you asking me out when you are literally balls deep inside me?” you snicker raising your eyebrows.

“I’m serious Y/N” he cradles your face with both of his hands “the moment I saw you I knew you are the one I have been waiting for all my life. A strong, independent and fearless woman who doesn’t need anyone, you are a hell of a queen, Y/N. I want this queen to be only mine, together we can rule the world love. I don’t want this to be a one night thing I want to make love to you every night, kiss every inch of your body and appreciate you, adore you” he rants

“The last part sounded a little creepy though” you chuckled “Well I do like you too my king let’s just take things slow and see where it goes maybe?”

“Sure my queen” he smiles as you kiss him softly.

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