#i have no tripod and exactly one good angle for lighting

[corrodedhawkins]

The Internet Is For Porn: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Author’s note: For the bestie @escapingtohawkins

Content warnings: Graphic smut (minors DNI), language, filming sex, sex toys, handcuffs, cockwarming, orgasm control, dom/sub dynamic.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” You stood in Eddie’s room, arms crossed over your chest nervously.

“C’mon, honey”, Eddie says, coming up behind you to pull you back into his chest. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear. “Don’t you want to make all of my adoring fans happy?”

You snort, “I don’t know if I would call the 20 people who pay to see your cock ‘adoring fans’.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I hit 60 subs last week.”

You turn to stare at him blankly, “Wow, you must be in the top 1% of the platform by now.”

Eddie sneers playfully and flips you the bird. “Seriously. Ever since I let is slip during a live that I had a girl, I’ve gotten so many requests to film with you. Please?” He spins you around and pouts his lip, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You knew your boyfriend had an OnlyFans account when you first met, and it had never bothered you. He enjoyed showing off, and it paid fairly well. You just didn’t know if you were comfortable doing it.

“I promise it’ll be totally safe. You’ve seen my content, I make sure my face is hidden. Nobody will ever know it’s you.” He’s right, he’s always so careful with his angles. The only thing that could identify him were his tattoos, but you didn’t have any yet.

“If you don’t like the final result we’ll trash it and forget all about it. We can also edit out anything you want. I promise. You get final approval.”

You thought it over for a moment. “Fine. But I keep the tips you make off of this one.”

Eddie practically squeals with excitement. “Deal!”

Phone in hand, he runs over to his closet to grab his ring light and tripod.

You can’t help but laugh, “You want to film it now?”

Eddie huffs as he secures his phone to the tripod. “No time like the present.”

You feel nerves flutter in your stomach. “So, how does this work exactly?”

Eddie rubs his hands over your arms soothingly. “Well, we turn the camera on and do whatever comes naturally for us.”

“Do-do we get naked now or?”

Eddie laughs, “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. Might make it easier so we’re not fumbling with clothes.”

You take a shaky breath and nod, placing a quick peck to his lips. “Alright, let’s do it.”

You both shed your clothes before Eddie grabs the remote for the camera. He lays down on his bed, pulling you on top of him. “We’ll start whenever you’re ready, okay?”

“Will you just-kiss me a little before you press record?” Eddie smiles softly and pulls you into a sweet kiss. He presses you up against him as he wraps his arms around you, and you melt into the kiss. “Go ahead”, you whisper.

Eddie grabs the remote from his side, hitting record before pulling you into another kiss. Before long, you’re grinding on each other as you kiss, tongues tangling hotly. “Sit up, baby”, Eddie whispers in your ear.

You roll off of him and sit up, looking over at Eddie as he perches on the edge of the bed. “Ropes or cuffs?” He asks as he opens his bedside table.

You think it over for a moment before deciding, “Cuffs.” He grabs them and secures the cuffs onto your wrists in front of you, checking to make sure they’re not too tight.

“Here’s what’s going to happen”, he slides himself behind you to sit against the pillows. He pulls you back into his chest, legs spreading to bracket your hips. “You’re going to sit on my cock while I touch you. If you move, I’ll stop and you won’t get to cum.” He speaks so softly you know there no way the microphone is going to pick it up.

He pulls your hair away from your shoulder to press soft kisses to your neck. You shiver as his breath fans over your skin. “I’ll leave you cuffed like this and use your mouth until I cum all over this pretty pussy.”

He chuckles at your whimper, “My subscribers would probably love that. What do you think, baby?”

“No”, you whine. “I’ll be good.”

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “I guess we’ll see.”

He grabs your hips to lift you onto his lap, slowly sliding you down onto his cock. Your head falls back onto his shoulder as you both moan. You can’t help but squirm to try to get him deeper, but Eddie’s hand clamps down on your hip right away.

“What did I just fucking say?” he thrusts up, knocking the air out of you.

“I-I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it.” You feel Eddie shift and grab something from the beside table. You hear the telltale buzzing of your vibrator, and you immediately clench around his cock.

Eddie chuckles when he feels it. “Yeah? Excited for your toy? You gotta be good or I’ll stop.” You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to stay still as he presses the vibrator up against your clit.

When you bite your lip to stifle your moan, Eddie tsks. “Don’t. Let me hear you. Let them hear you.” Your eyes flutter shut, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat. Eddie hums and switches to a higher setting on the vibrator, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

You cry out and clench down on him, thankfully stopping yourself before you rock back onto his cock. “Do you like the thought of everyone watching you get off like this?”, he asks. When you don’t answer, he sets the vibrator even higher, chuckling when you whine. “I asked you a question, pretty girl.”

“Yes”, you gasp out. Your cuffed hands are balled into fists as you desperately try not to move.

“You like that they all get to hear your pretty noises, but I’m the only one that gets to use this pretty pussy?”

You can’t help but clench down again. “Yeah”, you pant, chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. Eddie hums and presses the vibrator more firmly into your clit.

You feel the coil in your belly start to tighten, pleasure building. “Close. I’m close”, you warn. Eddie switches the vibrator up to the next highest setting. You keen, but somehow manage not to move.

“Please. Please I’m gonna cum. Can I?”you’re desperate for his permission.

Eddie presses a kiss to your shoulder, leaning in to speak into your ear. “You’ve been so good, go ahead and cum.”

The second the words leave his mouth you’re falling over the edge, pussy pulsing around his cock as you cry out. He holds the vibrator against you as you ride it out, whispering praises into your ear.

Once he feels you start to come down, he removes the toy from your clit and switches it off, throwing it to the foot of the bed. He unlocks the cuffs from your wrists and throws them alongside the vibrator.

“You ok?”, he asks as he runs his hands over your arms soothingly, placing a soft kiss to each wrist.

You let out a breathless laugh. “I’m very ok.” Eddie lifts you off of his cock, laughing as you whine from the loss. He lays you down on your back and knees his way in between you legs. “Ok to keep going?”

You wrap your arms around him, whispering a, “yeah” against his lips before closing the distance between you. Eddie kisses you leisurely, giving you time to rest after your orgasm. Once he’s sure you’ve come down, he pulls back and grabs the back of your thighs, bringing your legs up to bend against your chest.

“You think you’re ready for my cock?”, he asks as he spits into his palm, dragging the slick over his length.

You place your hands on the backs of your things, holding yourself open for him. “Yeah, please. Please fuck me.”

Eddie shuffles forward and runs the tip of his cock back and forth over your folds, up to your clit before circling your hole, never quite pushing in. You’re still so sensitive from your orgasm, and the feeling of his cock grazing your clit makes you squirm.

Before you know what’s happening, Eddie brings his hand to smack across your face, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. Your eyes well up with tears instantly. “Ah ah. You did so well for me earlier, don’t ruin it now.” You nod and sniffle as Eddie brushes a stray tear from your face.

He plunges into you without warning as you let out a sharp cry. He takes your place and grips the backs of your thighs, leaning his weight into you so you’re pinned in half under him as he sets a brutal pace.

“Fuck”, he groans. “This pussy is so good. You did so good, baby.” He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull and uses that to bring you up into a breathless kiss.

He thrusts harder as he feels you start to flutter around him. “You can cum whenever you want, sweetheart.” Your orgasm rips through you before you even register his words. You sob as Eddie fucks you through it.

Eddie moans as you cum, the feeling of you clenching around him getting him close. “Gonna cum”, he gasps. “Where do you want it?”

“In me. Please cum in me”, you beg.

Eddie throws his head back and cums, groaning as he fills you. He holds you close as he comes down, his thrusts turning into a slow rocking before they stop completely.

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair as you push a few strands away from his face. You hum when he places a kiss to your forehead and reaches for the camera remote to end the recording.

When you see him press the button on the remote, you can’t help but bark out a laugh. “I’m not gonna lie, I totally forgot the camera was on.”

Eddie laughs and goes to grab his phone from the tripod. “Looks like you’re a natural then, baby.”

He hits the record button once again as he swoops in to catch the first trickle of his cum dripping out of you. “Eddie!”, you squeal, trying to close your legs. He smacks a hand down hard on your thigh, “keep them open.”

You comply as he brings two fingers down to circle your hole before dipping in, fucking his cum back into you. The wet noises make your cheeks heat, and Eddie notices. “Don’t worry, babe. This one’s only for my personal collection.”

[yeoreos]

hate sex || jjk (m)

pairing :: jungkook x reader

genre :: 18+, fwb!au, smut, basically pwp

summary :: jungkook decides to show you how much he loves hates you.

warnings :: jungkook is in love with you, smut (corruption kink, big dick!jk, size kink, pussy slapping if you squint, oral (f. and m.), overstimulation, unprotected sex [be safe], sex in front of a mirror, denied orgasm, overstimulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, crying but it’s because jungkook is not showing any mercy on oc, hard dom!jk, somewhat brat!reader, a pinch of soft dom!jk, tattooed!jk, i think that’s it?)

wc :: 3.6k (of pure smut)

note :: first imagine ever please be kind :(( lowercase intended !!! (unedited)

“strawberry funnel cake frappuccino for y/n?”

your ears perked up at your name being called by the barista, indicating that your order is ready. you pushed past people, shocked at how packed it was despite it being a wednesday morning.

as for your situation, however, you needed that coffee. last night, the night of your date with your tinder match, didn’t happen. you realized how much time and energy you wasted looking your best for someone that didn’t even appreciate it. the rest of the night, you spent crying; not for your date, but for the makeup look you worked so hard on not to even get a reaction from anybody. but you didn’t let that stop you.

you grabbed your phone from the beige purse you had in your hands and threw the purse on your bed. from the lockscreen, you swiped left to open the camera app. from the angle it was in, the camera captured your feet. 

a few small pictures to upload to instagram wouldn’t hurt, right? and so for the next hour or two you spent in the bathroom having a photoshoot, silently thanking yourself for not throwing away the tripod that sat in the corner of your room, serving no purpose until that moment.

you took a few snaps in the bathtub with the water reaching the brim and your favorite scent littered into the water, along with a few rose petals to decorate it. this is going to be amazing. 

you sat in the bathtub, naked, careful not to let the water touch your face. with one person’s face in mind, you took the pictures, added a filter on them, and posted them onto your instagram, without a caption, because you sucked at those.

locking your phone, you sat in bed and went back to sleep, approximately around the time when the sun started rising, so of course you needed that coffee.

your best friend, Jimin, had heard all about it and had even been the first one to like and comment on your post. he commented so many times about how good you looked and how it was your date’s loss that he stood you up. it got to the point where he almost got shadow banned.

that was until he flooded your private message with more comments.

there was a specific comment, however, which caught your eye.

jeonjk97: damn babygirl

of course jungkook would comment something like that. but it didn’t fail to make you feel like you were on top of the world. 

fuck him and fuck his stupid self.

and the situation you were in was exactly that.

jungkook always had a preference when it came to girls. although he wasn’t the playboy type, he was still a boy and needed his desires to be satisfied. he preferred the innocent ones; “they have the tightest cunts” he would say.

but it was more to it than that. he knew that the innocence was fun to break down, to stain it with his touch where he knew his one-night stand would come back for more and fall to his feet, practically kissing it. he wanted to watch the way they would turn from someone so pure to someone equivalent to him in bed.

he figured that you were a virgin by the way you almost always had your nose in a book. but the first time he asked you to come over, he was shocked to see that the person you showed to everyone was nothing but a mask to hide it all. 

this was the first time you had caught jungkook’s intriguing eyes.

jungkook always reminded himself that he was only there to take, not to give, but it was getting harder and harder to do that each time you gave yourself to him. for him to use but he couldn’t. not when saw you as something more than just a quick fuck.

to make matters worse, you hated him with all of your guts, yelling out words that shouldn’t be uttered to him when the two of you weren’t in the premises of your (and sometimes his) bedroom.

“you’re a small, pretty thing, aren’t you?” he murmured to himself, standing next to your bed. you were sitting up on it, looking at him with a fire behind your eyes and a small smirk playing on your red lips. at that moment, he didn’t care about the feelings he had as all he wanted to was to take his cock out of the confines of his boxers and fuck your throat until you were gagging and choking on it, digging your nails into his thighs for leverage and a request to let you catch your breath.

“yes.” with your chest heaving up and down, the wetness between your thighs became more, the ghost of your orgasm pulling at every nerve in your body. that tingling feeling in your veins has you in a haze, wanting nothing more than just him.

he smirked, his purple hair falling over his eyes, and from the light hitting his back, it casted a shadow over them, making everything more exciting. every feeling and craving of touch for him was heightened, and you were getting tired of waiting.

“hurry the fuck up, jeon!” 

bad mistake.

immediately, he went up to you and grabbed you by the neck, pulling you so you were propped on your knees and in front of him. jungkook looked down at your lips and bit his own, thinking about the pretty sounds that would be coming out of them in a few moments.

with his free hand, he trailed his fingers down, teasingly running them down your skin to your shorts. the ghost of his fingers has your breath caught in your throat and as soon as he reaches your clothed mound, he presses his fingers down. you let out a sound near a gasp and shut your eyes immediately. a harsh slap is delivered to your pussy and you mewl out in pleasure.

“don’t raise your voice at me, understand?” his fingers toying your clothed clit was making it hard for you to voice anything back, so you nod your head instead. “words, baby.” 

oh he was evil.

“y-yes.” he smirked, satisfied with your response. he had never seen you so desperate for him in all the times he had spent with you.

he was aware of the fact that your panties had been soaked with your arousal, wetting his fingers in the process. “tell me what you want, princess.”

you swallowed air, choking on your own words for a second. you couldn’t believe what you were about to ask for. “i want- want you to fuck me...” with the way you trailed off, jungkook was sure it was more than just that, so he quirked a brow, giving you permission to speak further, “want you to fuck me like you hate me.”

something in jungkook seemed to snap because his eyes went a shade darker and an animalistic growl rumbled from deep within his throat.

all of a sudden, you were thrown onto the bed as jungkook got on his knees and tore your panties open, a loud gasp echoed throughout the room.

at first, jungkook took all the time in the world, leisurely toying with your clit and licking your opening until you turned into a moaning mess underneath his tongue, tugging on his bright locks like the floor was lava or something like that. it was only until you begged him to go faster, that he sped up the process of his tongue, assaulting your pussy. his strong grip on your thigh blocked you from distancing yourself from him and whenever you would, he suck on your clit, pulling it into his mouth and using his tongue to abuse the little nub. you grinded your hips into him, embarrassed of how good you were feeling, despite your strong negative feelings towards him on a daily basis. 

“perfect little pussy,” he mumbled against your clit, “made for me to fuck.” that was all it took for your orgasm to come crashing down on you, legs shaking, sinful sounds escaping your lips.

but that wasn’t it, he wanted to fuck you like he hated you, so he showed no mercy again when he entered two fingers into you right after your orgasm, the burning stretch making teas accumulate in the corner of your eyes. his mouth was back on your clit, still sensitive mind you, before you could protest any further. his hooded eyes stared at you, wondering how someone could look so beautiful in this situation.

it was only until your back arched off your bed as your mouth was gaped with no sound coming out, fingers holding onto dear life in his hair and pressing his face further between your thighs, that you came for the second time just by his mouth.

it wasn’t like you were against the idea, because in all honesty, you did ask for him to use you, but oh god if you knew the dangerous territory you were stepping in, you would’ve backed away a long time ago.

after you had calmed down from your high, although heart still racing, you slid down to the floor and got on your knees. jungkook wasn’t expecting this, all he wanted to do now was to fuck you until he rearranged your guts, but who was he to back down from your request of sucking his dick.

jungkook was haste to unbuckle his belt, already envisioning how you would look sucking his cock. however, he didn’t have to envision that for too long, because without any restrictions, you licked the crown of his dick, sending a shiver to go down his spine.

as for you, however, you didn’t realize how much you missed his dick until it was right in front of you and you could finally touch it. the pre-cum shined on his tip and it was waiting (im)patiently for you to give it some sort of relief. he reaches down for your hand and brings it to his dick, indicating that you do the action here. you grab it’s base and glide his tip over your mouth, smearing his arousal on your lips.

you part your lips and he allows you to have control over how much you were going to take in. when your warm mouth closes around him, he breathes out loud. you swirl your tongue over the head and taste the salty pre-cum. the feeling of his veiny cock feels so good in your mouth and you couldn’t wait for it to be shoved in your pussy. you start bobbing your head, using your hands for the parts your mouth couldn’t cover.

“oh fuck,” jungkook curses and entangles his fingers in your hair, pushing it back and holding it into a makeshift ponytail. it wasn’t until he wasn’t satisfied with how much you were taking into your mouth, that he starts bucking his hips into your mouth, going slow at first, then deciding to stay at a ruthless pace.

you opened your mouth and slacked your jaw, allowing him to use you as he pleased. jungkook curses underneath his breath when your submissiveness turns him on even more, but he’s quick to guide his cock in and out of your mouth. and truth be told, he could probably do this in his sleep with the amount of times he’s fucked your mouth. you gag around him, eyes glistening with warm tears as he continues his pace. jungkook holds your head when the feeling is too much and he becomes vocal.

letting out loud moans and groans, jungkook goes insane, almost cumming then and there.

but he couldn’t. he wanted to cum inside of your pussy.

your scalp physically hurt when he let go of your hair and slipped his dick out of your mouth, permitting you to catch a breath which he stole.

he picked you up by your waist and threw you on the bed, your head into the soft covers of your bedsheet. jungkook held you by your hips, pulling them up, so your ass was in the air and your head was in the mattress. 

he took his sweet time teasing and making you push your ass back for more, but he wouldn’t give himself to you just yet. he wanted to teach you your lesson.

and once he bottomed out, you moaned into the sheets, aware that you were drooling on them. it just felt that good. you loved it all. loved the way he was balls deep into you, loved the way he gripped your hips that it was going to leave marks, loved the way he was chanting your name like a mantra when you clenched around him, loved the way that he was the one fucking you.

as much as you would hate to admit it, jungkook was an all-rounder; perfect at everything he did whether it be sports, gaming, cooking, fashion. you name it, he could do it. including fucking you and that was your favorite part about him. that no matter how much the two of you hated (and one even loved, but that’s a conversation for another day) each other, you would always go back to each other like two opposites on a magnet. 

this view was nice, but jungkook wanted more. he wanted to see your face contort in pleasure, but at the same time, he wanted to see the way your cunt would take his cock. so, from the corner of his eye, he peeks at the mirror and considers the idea for a bit before moving around on the bed so you guys were in front of the mirror.

“w-what are you doing- mph!” jungkook enters you without even giving you a chance to complete your sentence. he brutally snaps his hips so his dick dives into your pussy, your walls doing nothing but contracting against his shaft.

jungkook bends down and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling it as your neck cranes over to see the two of you in the mirror. through your reflection, you could see the way jungkook looks back with the same hungry and lustful eyes. your eyes travelled to your position and the sight alone had you gushing for him, more wetness pooling. you look at the way your hair now looked like (and probably did) it had knots in them, your lipstick smeared across your lips and some parts of it getting on your cheek and chin, your mascara smudged over your eyes. you looked bad, but a good type of bad. it had jungkook ramming his hips into yours even more.

“look at you,” he says although that was what you were doing the whole time, “such a dirty slut. who’s making you feel this good, huh? who?!”

“y-you, oh fuck jungkook, please don’t stop, don’t stop please, i’m going to-”

“don’t you dare.” the way the words came out of jungkook’s chest has your heart rate speeding up and you could’ve sworn he got harder inside of you. 

in response, you mewl and shake beneath him, finding it hard to hold in your orgasm. with the way your vision blurred, you knew you were close, your release so close yet so far away. 

jungkook leaves open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, sucking into your skin, leaving a dark purple mouth he knew you were going to try to cover up the next day. for a little while, jungkook stills his hips, ravishing in the way your mouth is hung open and hands were shaking, trying their best to support the weight of your body. he holds that position, his lips pressing tender kisses on your neck. although you desperately want him to fuck you, another part of you wants to cherish this moment. 

so, you close your eyes in return and moan.

once he finished torturing the delicate skin of your neck, his eyes get drunk on your body, intoxicating him. at first, he watches through the mirror, watching the way your chest heaved for air. his eyes soon travelled to your back, to your ass, where he saw how deep he was buried into your cunt.

“your cunt is taking me so well, babe.”

once he sees that you were ready to take more, he pulls back and in one swift thrust, he pushed into you, a scream ripping through you. he does that again and again, causing the same reaction from you. jungkook once again stops when he’s fully inside of you, torturing you just to make you beg for him. you need him to fuck you relentlessly, so that’s exactly what you vocalize.

“please, jungkook,” your voice is nothing but a whisper, “please fuck me.”

“you should hear yourself, baby, the way you’re desperately begging for me. begging to be fucked,” he chuckles, “you already came once? or was it twice? how greedy can you be.”

“i’m you’re slut, jungkook. please fuck me.”

it was a light switch. something in him flicked and jungkook immediately started snapping his hips into you. “say that again, you little whore. who’s slut are you?”

“jungkook’s. only jungkook’s- fuck!”

he pushed his cock back before slamming into you with both of his hands on your hips. the lewd and slick sound of your pussy and your wetness leaving onto his cock echoes throughout the room and you could’ve sworn jungkook whimpered.

when that wasn’t enough, the sex god behind you takes both of your hands, pulling it behind you, setting yet another brutal pace. he can’t help but wrap his tattooed arms around your small, fragile ones. his eyes lock with yours, your throat protruding a gulp of air you had swallowed. 

“you look so pretty, your hands behind you as i’m fucking you, i wish you could see yourself. fuck,” he rumbles.

you moan at his words, because you couldn’t agree more. his hands were perfect; every inch of your body that he would touch, lick, kiss, all belonged to him. you belonged to him and jungkook was going to make sure you were aware of that by the end of the night tonight.

“moan louder,” he says while thrusting into you. “let everyone hear how much of a little slut you are for me.” he emphasizes the last word. his possessiveness was showing, but did either of you care? no.

as you give him exactly what he wants, he smiles while letting his cock fill you up, his hips hitting against yours with aggression. this all causes sparks of pleasure to coarse through your body, your veins felt like they were lit on fire, but not in the bad way. it was in a way only he could make you feel.

as you look at him through the mirror, you can’t help but find him extremely attractive. you watch the way he looks back at you with a cloudiness in his eyes and the way his pink tongue swipe across his bottom lips. jungkook keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with a different urgency every time

“please- jungkook please, i need to cum!” you were begging, not even caring how pathetic you looked and sounded.

“not until i tell you to,” the evil tone in his voice was evident and you didn’t know how longer you could hold in your release.

jungkook noticed the way tears freely fell from your eyes. something took over him, a sense of care. halting his hips, he leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to your neck. “just a little longer, yeah? you’re my good girl, and my good girl can do it. it’ll feel amazing, i promise.” you shuddered, a whole new feeling blossoming inside of you. a radiating warmth coursing throughout your body.

his hands could feel the way your body trembled and quivered underneath him with each thrust. the way he started his merciless pace had you losing yourself to the feeling of lust and desire. your face scrunches up, a feeling of your coil about to snap in your stomach.

jungkook quickly noticed and brings one of his hands which were previously wrapped around your wrists, made their way around your waist and to your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves. it wasn’t long until you were coming undone, with jungkook whispering praises and sweet nothingness into your ear.

a few moments and pumps later, jungkook feels his dick twitch inside of you. pulling out, he cums on you: your ass, your back, and your cunt.

still feeling high from your euphoria, the two of you stay in that position.

completely mesmerized in your afterglow, jungkook looks at you, you doing the same. the eye contact is far more intimate than what the two of you did just now. he never found anyone more beautiful after sex, but you? it was like a whole new perspective.

jungkook pulls his dick out a grabs a tissue from the table near your bed in order to clean you up, followed by a small, tender kiss pressed onto your temple. “you did so well,” he whispers and you feel your knees become weak. it was either due to exhaustion or because of his words.

you hoped it was not the latter.

[honeyhan-123]

The Monster In Plain Sight

Summary: Steve’s been slowly biding his time, playing the role of the perfect Captain America, but now he’s sick of playing and he’s going to take what he wants. 

Warnings: Non-con, Dark! Steve, Steve is a serial rapist, somnophilia, forced exhibitionism, breeding kink, use of the word Daddy. If any of these makes you uncomfortable please do not read. 

Word Count: 2.1k

AN: Ooop, I can’t believe I’m actually posting for the first time in nearly three months. Please be gentle <3

Also I would like to thank everyone on the dark group chat for encouraging me to keep on going with this idea. It didn’t quite turn out as dark as I thought it would but you guys gave me the incentive to keep on going so thank you <3

My Masterlist

He was hard. Achingly hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, this desperate for release but he knew he had to take his time. He had to relish in every single second he could get. He doubted he would get another chance and so he had to make this one count. 

The sleeping pills he had slipped into your wine at dinner were obviously working as you barely twitched as he slid your bedroom door open. It had almost been too easy to get his way. All he had to do was move in next door and play his usual role. No one would ever suspect The Captain America of the sinful acts that he was about to do, that he had done numerous times. 

But even as he watched you sleep, he knew something about this time was different. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Maybe it was because unlike his usual victims he had actually made contact with you. He had never been so bold before. Usually there was always a camera lens separating him from his victims. But not this time. Not with you. 

He slithered over to the vanity opposite your bed, setting up his tripod with hasty fingers. He double checked the view point, making sure that the entire bed was in frame. He knew he wouldn’t forget a moment of what was about to happen but still, he wanted the momentos. The physical reminders. He pulled the sheets back from your unconscious body and relished in the way your nipples hardened at once as they met the cool night air. 

It was only at times like this when he could stop acting. When he could truly be himself. For these brief hours he could be who he was, not who the world thought him to be. 

He slid one hand up underneath the silk nighty you wore and cupped your tit as his other hand dipped into his already open pants. It was a relief to feel the cool breeze on his hot pulsating length and even better when he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped your fingers around it. Slowly he moved your hand up and down, a low groan tumbling from his lips. Your dainty fingers felt amazing wrapped around him, far better than his own, but he longed for more. 

With a final tweak of your nipples, he let his hand slide town along your stomach and towards the lace that covered your mound. He cupped it through the scanty material, pushing the fabric into your lips as he felt you up. He couldn’t wait to be inside you, to have you wrapped around him like a vice. 

Getting you out of the nighty without jostling your body too much was a little difficult. Perhaps he should have cut it open, that would have fitted better with his plan should you awake. Ridding you of your panties was far easier and the sight that met him was beautiful. 

Sure he had camped out on your fire escape multiple times, watching as you dressed or prepared for a shower. But even then you had always been quick to recover yourself, as if you knew he was outside, watching with a hand wrapped around himself. Now however, he had you exactly as he wanted and he could take as long as he needed. 

Whipping out his phone, he made sure to capture all your best angles. He wanted your body to be immortalised forever so desperately that he even risked turning the flash on. He didn’t want to miss a single curve. When he felt as though he had enough pictures to last a lifetime, he moved onto stage two and trailed a hand up your calf. 

He kept his touch light for the most part until he reached in between your thighs. Steve couldn’t help the guttural sound that came out of his mouth as he parted your thighs, showing off the wetness that drenched your pussy lips. He had barely touched you and yet you were practically soaking the sheets. You must need it bad and who was he to refuse a woman in need? 

He wondered briefly what was going through your mind as he played with your slick. Were you dreaming of him? Of him doing these things to you? Of him making your body feel this way? 

He sure hoped so. 

He wanted you to know it was him. That he had crept in here after dark and filmed himself while he took you however he saw fit.

Deep down he knew he could never allow that to happen. That you could never know. It would be a PR nightmare and his days of taking whatever he wanted would be over. The only reconciliation in his mind was that if everything went according to plan, maybe this wouldn’t have to be a one off like all the others. Maybe he would purposely wake you up? He could make it seem like whoever had done those depraved things to your body had got away and it would only be natural that you would seek comfort with him, your supposed hero.

A melodic whimper filled his ears as he swirled a finger around your bundle of nerves, pulling him back into the moment. Even unconscious you were so reactive. So desperate. His nimble fingers faced no resistance as he pushed inside, swirling them along your inner walls. 

Steve doubted that you needed any more work up before he satisfied himself. You were just that needy. So without a moment's hesitation, he pulled his fingers from you and licked them clean. 

You tasted so sweet, just like he knew you would. A part of him wanted to bury his face between your thighs and stay like that forever but the aching in his cock reminded him of why he was really here. He needed to fuck. 

It had been far too long since his last time, a month, maybe more. He had spent so much time following your every step that he hadn’t gotten the chance to find anyone to satiate his needs. Plus, the last time he had it had been a little disappointing if he was being honest with himself. He had cummed, multiple times but instead of the usual calmness and serenity that filled him after a session, he just felt hollow and empty. 

He had known it was because she wasn’t you. Her pleas for him to stop were wrong, far too shrill for your sweet voice. He ached to hear you plead with him to stop, to hear to cry out for help. His gut twisted in the best way just imagining it but he would have to content himself with just your body tonight. 

He crawled onto the bed, spreading your thighs with his hips as he lined himself up at your entrance. He paused, just briefly to look over at the camera, giving his future self a devious smirk before casting his eyes back to your face. He didn’t want to miss any of your body’s reactions to him. 

He felt like he was coming home as he slid inside, forcing his entire length into your tight channel. Your warm velvet walls gripping him like a vice. It was nice. So nice that he just wanted to stay here, his cock buried deep inside of you for all of time. 

‘Fuck baby, you’re griping me so tight.’ He couldn’t help the words as they fell from his lips and he hoped that you would register them, at least subconsciously.  

Without any more hesitation he pulled back out, leaving just the tip before slamming all the way back home. Perhaps he wasn’t being as careful as he should have due to the circumstances but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just wanted to mark you as his and if you felt him in the morning, even better. 

His pace was punishing as he thrusted his hips wildly, his hands groping both your tits. He toyed with the pert buds as your walls fluttered around him, a soft and delicate moan falling from your lips. The sound made him grateful he had invested in the extra strength microphone for the camera. He didn’t want to miss a thing. 

‘You’re just so desperate aren’t you baby? You just need it so bad. Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna give it to you, just how you want it.’ He pushed your legs up, over his shoulders as he pushed even deeper inside of you. He could see the faint bulge of himself inside of you with every thrust and he imagined it going straight into your womb. The idea of his seed taking root inside of you did things to Steve that he had never known possible and suddenly he wanted it. He wanted it all.

He had always made sure to pull out because any child would be able to be traced back to him but the idea of you, round and full with his child… It was too good a vision to pass up. 

His cock throbbed in need. The need to feel your velvety walls squeeze him, the need to fill you to the brim. His hand dropped down to where your bodies were connected, finding your little bud with ease. He swirled his finger in your slick and relished in the corresponding moan that came out of your lips. 

‘C’mon baby, I know you wanna cum for me. I know you wanna be a good girl for me.’ His voice was throaty as he whispered into your ear, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing. He felt the familiar squeeze of velvety walls and he knew you were close. 

‘That’s it baby, be a good girl for Daddy. Cum for me baby. Cum on Daddy’s big thick cock.’ He knew his words had taken affect as almost immediately he felt the pulsating of your walls, gripping him tight as you came. The sound of your pleasure was almost drowned out by his own low groan. ‘Fuck baby, milking me so tight. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum inside you, gonna fill you with my seed. You want that don’t you? You need it.’

Steve could barely control himself as he felt his balls pull up, his seed spilling inside of you in hot spurts. He allowed your legs to fall down his shoulders as he collapsed on top of you, trying to catch his breath. 

‘Fuck baby, that was so good, so fucking good.’ His words were slurred, his heart still racing inside his chest. He felt the familiar pull in his gut as he started to harden again and he was about to start taking you again when he heard a soft mumble get caught in your throat.

He froze, still completely encased in you, unsure of what to do. If you opened your eyes you would know immediately what had happened and he probably wouldn’t get a second chance without resorting to drastic measures. 

A moment passed, and then two and your eyes still remained firmly shut and Steve let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps he shouldn’t go for round two right now. There was always tomorrow night, and the next night and the next. He could hold back for now. 

Slowly he pulled his aching cock from you, watching in awe as a little of his cum seeped from your swollen lips. He gently scooped it up before pushing his fingers back inside. He didn’t want a drop to go to waste. 

He pulled the camera off the tripod and carried back to the bed, giving your body a loving once over with the lens before putting himself back into frame as he knelt by your head. ‘Y/N L/N, twenty-first of September. Rating, ten out of ten. I will be coming back for seconds.’ With one last pan down your body, focussing on your cum soaked lips, he started getting redressed. He hated to leave you, but he knew he must. You couldn’t know that it was him doing these sinful acts with you, not if he wanted more. 

He grabbed the notebook on your bedside table and turning to a new page he began to write with his non-dominant hand. 

Thank you so much for last night baby. I can’t wait to see you again.

He placed the note on your pillow and pushed his lips against yours, sweeping his tongue around your entire mouth and drinking in your taste. It was with extreme regret that he left, but he knew he would be seeing you in a couple of hours. He would make sure he was the first person to see you in the morning. He would hold you in his arms and comfort you as you asked him for help, and he would give it to you. 

And so much more. 

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

Part Two

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Thanks for reading <3

[writing-gifts]

both sides of the viewfinder chp. 1

adult film star!bruno x afab!reader  (they are also gn)

this is 18+ content

summary:  Bruno's interested in you and you're interested in him. It's only a matter of time.

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

------

A/N: okay so this is gonna be 3 chapters. the last chapter’s smut, but there’s pretty suggestive stuff happening in the 2nd chapter

i did research for this and wanted to try to make it more on the realistic side but there's always the chance that i messed up somewhere, so if you wanna point it out go ahead. it'll be good to know for the future!

------

This wasn't your first time filming for sex work but you felt a little out of your element. The studio that recently hired you was much bigger than what you were used to and considering that you were mainly doing freelance work before, this made everything feel much more professional and serious. Their work had to be highly produced.

"--We aren’t super strict about that, but you should definitely tell me before you go anywhere."

Right now, you were being given a quick tour by one of the people you'd be working with--the Director of Photography. Jocelyn was pretty much your manager and would be giving you most of the orders.

You continue to follow behind her as she continues to show you around. But you couldn't help eyeing the high quality lights and cameras you pass as she talked though. The equipment must have been worth a lot.

Once she has finished showing you around, she leads you back to the set filled with the crew that you passed earlier.

You listen closely as she goes over the details of the film.

"This will be the room where the main scene will take place. Today we will have you operating one of the stationary cameras, but since you’ve done stuff like this before I decided to let you do it without someone breathing down your neck. Just follow my orders."

You like the woman already. "Thank you."

"The shoot will start in--" she checks her watch, "--about an hour. Today is just filming for you but you know you’ll be doubling up as a runner when necessary. We might also have you help with other tasks while you work here too."

You nod to show you understand.

She smiles, "If you have any questions don't be afraid to ask me or any of your co-workers. Try to avoid asking the director though…."

-------

You adjust the headphones on your head as you stand in front of the camera you'd be in charge of today.

Working it should be simple enough since you didn't have to actually move. You just needed to make sure it stayed in focus so they had more options when it came to angles.

About 10 minutes later, the two actors starring today show up dressed in fairly nice clothes that they wouldn't be wearing for too long. One of them seemed quite friendly with everyone. He must be pretty popular you think.

Before you can recede to your thoughts, you recognize him.

Is that Bruno Bucciarati?

You quickly confirm that it is and turn your body away from him and towards the camera, as if doing that would hide you. You weren't necessarily a stan but you did follow him on social media. And perhaps you did subscribe to his OnlyFans. And there's a good chance you paid money for some of his work.

It wasn't your fault that he was one of the few male stars you found attractive!

You shake your head. This was work. Don't get starstruck.

Luckily, it doesn't take you long to get distracted with the camera. You rarely get to operate such expensive equipment like this so you find yourself looking at all it had to offer.

While you neglect socializing with the people you would be working with from now on, someone comes up to you.

"You look so focused."

Your eyes widen from the sudden voice and you pull down your headphones as you look to the side. "Oh sorry--" When you see who it is the rest of your statement dies in your throat.

However, Bruno isn't deterred by your abrupt stop. "You must be the new camera person."

You stare a second too long before nodding.

He holds out a hand and you have to calm your shaking one before reaching out and grabbing his. His hand was really warm.

“Nice to meet you, my name's Bruno Bucciarati."

"I'm ____. I've actually seen some of your work before! You really are as handsome as in the videos."

Even though you're straight-faced, you were regretting what you just said. It was a simple compliment but what if it was too much? His looks did astound you though, there was no denying it. And you really didn't understand how he managed to pull off that haircut.

You smile to ease the tension within yourself and Bruno returns it. Whether it was genuine or out of politeness you didn't know, but it helps you relax.

"Thank you," he says.

“Okay everyone get in your damn places! We’ll be starting soon!”

Your brows raise at the director’s choice of words.

Bruno turns back to you. "Well, let's do our best to get through this."

You nod and watch him walk towards the bed where his co-star is waiting, and the director immediately starts going over what he wants the two of them to do once he’s there.

You decide to do a quick second check on your camera to make sure everything is still working properly before waiting patiently for the director to start.

------

Between some cuts and breaks, filming’s done about 6 hours later. You’d been informed about the typical work time so you weren't surprised. The porn from this studio was highly produced, with a few “amateur” looking works thrown in, so it was the norm. But this was the longest you had worked on one film. So depending on how particular the director was, you would need to be prepared to do at least several hours of filming when behind the camera.

You rub your eyes. It's only 4 pm but you're yearning for your bed. You could only imagine how tired the actors were.

Right after you turn off the camera, Jocelyn calls you over.

"You did well today and looks like you don't need any serious training. Good job!" she praises.

You guessed you passed the new hire "test". That gave you a bit of an energy boost and you can't help the smile on your face.

While you remove the camera from its tripod, you begin to retreat to your mind. And of course, your mind wanders to a certain actor.

Bruno was good at what he did. Really good. And the other actor seemed to genuinely enjoy working with him too. For a second, you wonder what it's like.

You glance up and accidentally make eye contact with a now fully clothed Bruno. The man walks towards you and even though you had watched him just have sex for multiple hours, you feel nervous.

“What’s up?” you ask when he's close enough.

"Nothing. I like to check up on newcomers, but you must have worked in this field for a while since they usually tend to have some hang ups."

"Uh yea. I've been doing stuff like this for awhile. Good work today by the way."

"Same with you. It was long but things went as smoothly as they could."

You nod in agreement and finish folding up the tripod. “They did, but honestly that one position you were in looked super uncomfortable! Is your back okay?”

The man laughs. “I'll be fine. That was pretty tame to be fair.”

“Wow, you must be super fit or flexible then...” You notice your coworkers walking off with equipment and decide its best to end the conversation so you can follow them. "Oh, I need to put away this stuff. Thanks for checking up on me though!"

Bruno smiles at you and you scurry off with the camera and the tripod.

-----

You'd been here a week so far. Each day varied with things to do and you never really knew what you'd exactly be working on until you got to the studio.

For today you had a list of various tasks but the first one was conducting a pre-shoot interview with the actors for the porn being shot in an hour.

You look through the viewfinder at the two men sitting on the couch. You were already recording but the interview hadn't started just yet.

“It’s been awhile since I've done an interview so bear with me...” you mumble while going over the questions in your head.

“No pressure ____,” Bruno says.

The man doesn't seem bothered but Prosciutto, on the other hand, isn’t as laid back.

“You should at least have a list of questions prepared,” the blonde says.

"Yep right here!" You pull out a piece of paper from your pocket. From the list you could tell this collaboration had been long requested by their fans.

“I did my best to remember it but just in case…” You place the paper on a surface out of view.

You readjust the camera on your shoulder before speaking again. “Okay, let's start with names you say.”

You focus the camera on Bruno. You wish you had a tripod, but they were insistent on having you walk around with the damn thing to make it feel more “personal”.

"I’m Bruno Bucciarati."

You then turn the camera to focus on Prosciutto.

"I’m Prosciutto."

“So I know this is the first time you both are working together. How are we feeling?”

Bruno smiles. “I'm feeling pretty good and ready to work. How about you, Prosciutto?”

“Pretty much how I do before any shoot.”

“And what's that?” you ask.

Prosciutto crosses his arms. “Mostly relaxed but looking forward to it of course.”

"That's good. I know it'll be tiring filming and from how highly requested this seems to be, the director's going to want this to be perfect. But I'm hoping you guys still have fun."

"I'm sure we will, but I still don't know why so many people wanted us to work together," Prosciutto says.

Bruno nods. "Agreed. I feel like we’ve rarely interacted until now."

"Well people like seeing attractive people together. And I've actually seen fancams of you two interacting on Twitter. It's pretty entertaining!"

“You search those up?” Bruno asks.

“No, they just show up on my timeline sometimes.”

“...So you're a fan of Bruno then?” You weren't sure why but you sense a bit of judgement coming from Prosciutto.

"A little, but let's move on." You take a peek at the paper. "So who’s receiving and who’s catching?"

You raise a brow at how the question’s phrased.

Bruno looks at Prosciutto. “Don't you think we should let the film speak for itself.”

The blonde hums in agreement. “If they need to know so badly, they can skip ahead.”

“True. I think either way would be fun to watch though,” you say.

“Definitely. You should let me know what you think later.” Bruno says.

You don't mean to smile but it's already happening. "Sure."

“You're real unprofessional flirting with the camera person in the middle of an interview,” Prosciutto chides.

“It's just some banter. Are you jealous?”

Prosciutto tsks at Bruno's statement.

You shake your head deciding not to acknowledge those comments. The editor would have to cut out that bit. The two seemed to get along well enough for work but you had a feeling they would get on each other's nerves if they stayed together too long.

“Okay so this is definitely a good question to ask next. What do you guys like about each other? Either personality or physical wise."

Prosciutto glances at Bruno before speaking. “I can admit that the man has a nice….physique.”

You grin. "You sound like I'm putting a gun to your head."

The man fixes you with a very unamused look but you continue on smiling.

"What about you Bruno?" you ask.

“Well he has an attractive face and body, of course. His stubbornness is enjoyable at times too.”

“Stubbornness?”

Prosciutto seems to have the same question as you because he looks at Bruno for his explanation.

“Yes it's a good trait to have in certain situations.” Bruno returns the blonde’s stare. “It'll also make seeing him unravel much more interesting.”

The two of them are now looking at each other very intently and you feel like you should leave the room. But you need to finish the interview.

“Nice...so this is the last question. Is there anything specific you two are looking forward to?”

Fortunately, the two of them can still hear you and respond.

Bruno hums, “I suppose it's been awhile since I've given a blowjob, so there's that.”

"...And I'm looking forward to receiving one."

You let out a chuckle, “Okay, Prosciutto I see what you're about.” You quickly skim the list of interview questions. "Well looks like that's it! You guys ready to go?”

They both give you their positive answers.

“Then let's get you guys ready for the shoot."

Bruno smiles while Prosciutto's face stays neutral.

After that statement you stop recording.

“Okay, nice job guys!” You look at the clock on the wall. “That went pretty fast. So you can go ahead and head to the set.”

Prosciutto nods and exits the room but Bruno stays behind.

“Are you going to be helping film for the shoot?” he asks.

You gently place the camera down on the table where you left the paper.

“No, I have to go out and buy some things for something being filmed later this week. And then I have to go do some other stuff around the studio…” You laugh, “They really have me running around!”

Bruno looks slightly concerned. “You’d prefer to stay behind the camera the whole time right?”

“Yep but that's okay. I already knew what I was getting into, and I get paid better pretty well for it.” You look back up at the clock. “I’ll definitely be back for the interview after filming though so I should see you then.”

Bruno nods. "Okay, good luck with your errands."

----

By the end of the day, you're exhausted. Your list of tasks wasn't hard, you just ended up moving a lot more than you planned. You even almost forgot to take your break in your hustle.

When you return to your apartment, you eat something and take a quick shower before dressing up for bed. And once you're snuggled up in your covers, you decide to check your Twitter to see if anything interesting has happened.

While scrolling through the random posts retweeted throughout the day, you happen upon a pretty suggestive picture of Bruno in lingerie. He posted it not too long ago.

Nice.

You click on his icon to check his page to see if there’s anything else new, and under his username notice the words follows you.

Your eyes widen and you double check and refresh to make sure you're not seeing things. You go into your notifications and see that he followed you a couple hours ago. You really weren't sure what to do. It would be weird if you messaged him, right?

You take a deep breath and decide to take the chance. Bruno probably got hundreds of messages so it shouldn't be a big deal.

hi, i saw that you followed me. just making sure you didn't make a mistake lol

Before you can overthink it you send the message. After that you go back to his page and like and retweet the lingerie photo, but you still need a distraction so you wouldn't obsess over a possible reply. When you're thinking of getting out of bed, a message from Bruno pops up.

You quickly open it to see the full message.

No mistakes here. I searched you up and saw that you already followed me so I wanted to follow back.

It's not the first time you've been followed by pornstars or coworkers you worked with, but it was honestly still rare. And something about it being Bruno made your heart beat faster. You momentarily think about everything you retweeted in the last hour, before sending a message back.

oh okay, thx! i'll try not to bother you too much, you probably get a lot of messages

A few seconds pass before you get another reply.

Not necessarily. I have DMs off for people I don't follow. I love my fans but they can get...rowdy. Either way, you can message me whenever you want.

Wow, what would you even talk about with Bruno outside of work related things...

oh, that makes sense. well i guess i’ll take you up on the offer ^^

You see the three dots going for a while before another message appears.

I saw you retweeted my picture.

Your heart skips a beat.

oh god, now i feel embarrassed all of a sudden!

No don’t be. I'm glad you like it.

You smile to yourself.

yea, you look really good in lingerie ...you look good in anything tbh or without anything lmao

You feel like you're about to say something really embarrassing if this conversation continues and quickly type up another message before he can respond.

i’m really tired so i’m going to get ready for bed

The three dots disappear for a moment before showing up again.

Shame, I would have liked talking more. But I understand, you looked really exhausted during the post interview.

yea i was but it’s no biggie and we can message later ❤

Okay then, sleep well ____.

good night 😴

You close out of the app after that and honestly, that went way better than you were expecting.

[phoenixblack89]

Blank Canvas

Travis is definitely one of my favourite characters the gorgeously talented Mr. Reedus has portrayed. 

TAGS: @fandomsaremykryponite @autocon23 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgirl @writingdeadangel

WARNING: Just pure filthy smut 

The incessant beeping of your alarm clock woke you as you tried in vain to stay under the covers of your bed. Your head throbbed in pain, a lecture about hangovers and the dangers of drinking by your mother echoing in your memory.

It was all Derek's fault.

You would have been quite happy to have the loft to yourself last night while your three roommates went drinking but no. He insisted that you come along to make sure Travis didn't have another 'discussion with gravity' as he liked to call them. Needless to say all of you ended up slightly more than drunk, hell Travis was literally dragged into his room out cold last night.

The only thing making you feel better was the fact he too would be horridly hungover as you at the lecture.

"Y/N? You awake?"

"Just..." You croakily replied, throwing your pillow over your shoulder.

The door creaked loudly as Travis opened it and slowly, holding his head, made his way to you and climbed under the covers.

"Can we skip today?"

"Travis sweetums, you know we can't." You groan, turning and putting your head on his chest lightly. The crush you harbored on the quieter, shyer roommate was nothing secret. Both Jones and Derek knew, Travis seemed oblivious to it however. If he knew he wouldn't do his usual hangover routine which involved him climbing into your bed to snuggle and complain about his head until the afternoon. As it was you weren't complaining. You loved feeling the heat through your body from the innocent act by him.

"Fuck it. Let's skip. We can always catch up. We'll just say we ate dodgy food again. Blame Derek's cooking." You laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist and sighed.

"Shhh my head hurts. Let's go back to sleep" He wrapped his arms around you and closed his eyes.

/*/

The slam of the door jolted you awake. Fucking noisy bastards you thought, glancing at the clock and groaning. Travis rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. Derek kicked the door open and bounced on the bed, crushing you and Travis back into the mattress.

"See you two finally fucked!" He laughed.

You and Travis both turned bright red and you shoved Derek hard to get out from under him. You stood and pointed at the door.

"Get out!"

"Hey I'm joking! Nice shorts by the way." He laughed, leaning on one elbow to look you over lustifully. You huffed and slammed the door as you entered the bathroom.

Derek was such an ass. If he didn't mind you being late on the rent occasionally you would of moved out but you knew you'd never find somewhere as awesome as the loft. Especially when it came to your art supplies. The space for your canvases was your priority. Hours and weeks and months were spent on your art and they needed special storage to ensure they didn't get ruined. Derek, thankfully, had the perfect conditions for this. Oil, acrylic, watercolour, whatever your classical and fine arts class called for you had on hand within reach. The last place you lived meant you had to rent out a storage unit and numerous pieces of art had been lost because of the shit climate and vermin. You shuddered as you showered, remembering Travis helping you clear the storage unit to move in and discovering one of your favourite pieces had been converted into a comfortable two up two down by a collection of rats. That hadn't been a pleasant sight.

Wrapping a towel around you, you exited the bathroom to a thankfully empty bedroom. The laughs of your roommates reached your ears and you smiled lightly, dressing quickly in your usual baggy clothes before throwing up your hair and sitting at your desk. You sent an email to your professor for the weeks assignment and leaned back, your head ending upside down as you looked at the large blank canvas behind you. You'd bought the thing on a complete whim. You didn't know what to do with it now you had it. And honestly, you'd forgotten you'd even bought it in the first place until the delivery men hauled it into your living room. Maybe you should just give it to Travis. He'd know what to do with it.

"Hey you."

"Hello Miss Jones. What can I do for you today?"

You knew what she was going to say as soon as she closed the door. When you gonna tell him how you feel... Blah. Blah. Blah.

"Before you say it. No. Things are good the way they are. I ain't gonna rock the boat."

"Y/N"

"Nope... Not a chance Jonesy. Ain't telling my cute, sweet, sexy as fuck, roommate I share a vast majority of art classes with I like him. Not happening."

"You should. He's a sweetie."

"I know. That's why I can't. I ain't his type anyway. He prefers thin blonds."

"Oh hunny, you have no idea what he likes." Jones smiled and patted your shoulder lightly. "Maybe you should ask for his help on that huge monster of a canvas." She smirked as she left.

Frowning, you bit your lip and considered her suggestion. Jones smirked as she passed Travis and winked back at you.

Shit. Had he heard?

"You... Erm... Need help with the... Assignment?" He stuttered, his head ducked lowly as you blushed.

"Er yea... Later... I... I... I need to look it over some more.."

He nodded and smirked as he tapped against your doorframe before spinning on his heel and leaving. As soon as you were sure he was out of sight and earshot yoh banged your head forward on the desk with a groan.

"Fuck my life."

/:/

"Lift! Careful! Careful" You huffed as you directed Travis and Derek, who were lifting the canvas into Travis's room for the project that you'd come up with. You laughed as Derek bashed his arm against the door.

"Remind me to not let you get another one this big!" Travis huffed, setting the monster down against his wall and flexing his thick fingers.

"Its not that bad! It's gonna look awesome!" You laughed quietly, tying your Y/H/C into a high ponytail and smiling as Derek left grumbling. "Come on Travis. Let's get this baby started."

"What exactly are we doing again?"

You shook your head and tugged the canvas into a more pleasant angle, last thing you wanted or needed was to injure yourself by overstretching yourself. Travis glanced over his shoulder as he picked up his paintbrush, twirling it between his fingers with a cigarette hanging from his sinful mouth. Your eyes gazed over his wide shoulders and down his back. The black vest clung to the muscles in his back and tucked into the overalls he was wearing, the sleeves tied tight around his narrow hips. His boots banged against the wood floor loudly as he tapped his foot expectantly.

"Y/N?"

"Huh?!" You startled out of your thoughts of how he'd feel under your hands as your nails dragged scarlet lines down that delicious looking back. "Oh erm... Well I was thinking maybe... Erm... A sex scene but not straight up porn. Like two lovers in an embrace kinda thing out in nature... Does that make sense?"

"Hmm... So... Summit like this?" He asked, quickly sketching a rough plan of two lovers on a scrap of paper. The lines were sharp with his haste, the angles a bit off but it was perfect. The woman's head thrown back as the man's lips kissed her neck, the hands gripping onto the males broad shoulders, her leg thrown over his hip.

You smiled widely and began sketching it on to the canvas roughly. Travis smiled, flicked his cigarette and joined you. Each of you taking one of the figures to draw. Travis's eyes lingering on your rapidly shifting hands. He loved watching you loose yourself to your creativity. It was as beautiful as the sun rise to him. The look of pure joy and concentration on your face, highlighted your beauty. The dimples in the corner of your mouth as you placed your pencil between your teeth drove him wild. He couldn't help but wonder what they'd look like as you sucked his cock. He ducked his head to the side as he felt his cock getting harder at the mere thought.

/:/

You backed away from the canvas and tilted your head to the side. Something was off with the sketch and it was bugging you no end. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was. Was it the angle? The pose? Was it something small and seemingly insignificant? Was it because you'd taken the male figure where Travis the female?

"Something is off about it... I just can't see what it is though..." Travis agreed, another cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

"Yea... I see it but I don't. Ya know. Maybe we should... Nah... That's stupid." You blushed and ran your hands over your face. Your eyes were a tad itchy and tired from the low light in the room plus the smoke. Travis chewed his lip and walked to you slowly.

"What?"

"Well... Maybe we should try the pose out. See if its because we didn't have a proper reference for it." Your eyes stayed on the floor, running over the numerous splatters of multicoloured paint that had been dipping onto it. Travis felt a lump in his throat as he shifted his weight nervously. He nodded his head upwards and slowly stalked towards you, licking his lip nervously. You shifted closer and with a glance at the canvas lifted your leg to his hip, pushing yourself closer to him. His fingers hesitated for a moment before wrapping around your thigh tightly. His lips slightly red from being chewed dropped to your neck before pulling away sharply.

"Trav?"

"Hold up. Camera. Can't hold pose and look at it at the same time."

He rushed and grabbed his camera, setting it up on a tripod and grabbed the clicker to be able to take the photo. He smiled as he reached for you and you flushed, feeling the heat from his crotch against your core as he lifted your leg back into place across his hip. His mouth once more just brushing your neck as you ran your hand through his short dark tresses. The camera flashed suddenly and you backed away as Travis quickly hooked the memory card into his computer and gave a laugh at the blurry image on the screen.

"Still looks wrong. Maybe we should lose the overalls?" He suggested quietly, swallowing audibly as the image became more focused. You nodded and blushed, slipping the boots off your feet and shrugging the dark paint splattered overalls off your hips to pool on the floor beside his bed. Your throat went dry as his gaze ran along your legs, over your plain black panties and up your stomach to the thin white cotton vest you had on. Your nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, a dusty rose colour and hard from the tingle of arousal running rampant through you.

Travis's eyes darken as he removed his own clothes down to his boxers before returning to your side once more. You shuddered as his fingertips ran up your leg to grip you up around his hip once more. His eyes drilled into yours as he lowered his head to your neck. Your eyes closed, feeling his breath ghosting over your pulse point. You felt his cock harden against your core as your nails lightly scrapped his scalp and sucked in a gasp. His lips brushed against your neck as the camera flashed. His hand tightened in the back of your neck as he trailed kisses up your neck before pulling back to look into your eyes. You bit your lip and nudged your nose against his lightly.

"Travis..."

"You... God... Y/N I like you. I've thought about you and me so much. I wanna..."

"Shut up and kiss me idiot."

You smiled at the smirk gracing his face as he did as he was told, pushing his hips into yours tighter. He grabbed your other leg and pulled you up into his arms, walking forward to his bed before dipping down onto his knees. His lips felt heavenly after so long of a wait. You nipped his lip lightly and pushed your tongue into his mouth as he gasped.

He growled and thrust against you as his hands ripped your vest from your chest and licked at your nipple. You grabbed his hair and tugged him back to your mouth as you pushed his boxers down his hips and felt the heavy, thick weight of his raging hard cock.

His lips left a trial along your neck, sucking and nipping gently as he ground his hips against yours slowly. A thrill of desire flared in your core, making your clit twitch against the cotton covering them. His fingers lightly tapped along the edge of your panties before gripping them tightly and dragging them harshly down your hips. Your hand ran up and down his length as he leaned his forehead against yours, his breaths coming out as soft groans.

"Fuck... I ain't gonna last if ya keep that up!" He moaned, feeling his orgasm rapidly approaching. With a slight growl, he grabbed your hand and pulled it off himself, slamming it down above your head and panted against your neck. "Fuck..."

"Travis... Please..." You moaned, wiggling under his weight. He smirked against your collarbone as he began kissing down your chest. He shifted his hips and aligned himself with your dripping core. In one swift thrust he buried himself inside your aching pussy as you gave a very loud moaning shriek. Your nails raked down his back as he set a hard, fast pace. His fingers digging harshly into your hips, sure to leave bruises for days.

You gave a loud moan as you felt your core tingling and fluttering around his hard cock, your pleasure sky rocketing towards the orgasmic bliss it craved.

Your release crashed over you as his fingers dug crescents into your hips as his thrusts became harder and rougher. His head leaned back as he enjoyed the sensation of your walls spasming around him, your mouth held open in a silent scream as pleasure rushed through your entire nervous system.

You pulled him towards you and crashed your lips against his as his hips began loosing their rhythm, his own release rapidly approaching. He gave a groan and pulled out, gripping himself tightly and splashing your stomach with his cum. He fell down beside you panting then chuckled.

"Fuck..."

"Yea." You replied with a breath laugh, your hand pushing your sweat soaked hair off your face and grimacing slightly at the stickiness coating you. "We should probably clean up.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It was worth it."

"Yea... Definitely. We should of done that ages ago." He said smiling, leaning up onto one elbow to look into your blissed out face, his other hand using his shirt to clean his mess from your skin. You pushed your hand through his hair and drew his lips to yours before pulling away and biting your lip with a smirk.

"Maybe we should get some more inspiration for that canvas huh?" You said flirty, wiggling an eyebrow up and down. He glanced behind him towards the canvas before laughing and diving on top of you again attacking your neck with his teeth. You gave a loud laugh.

The canvas certainly wouldn't be blank for much longer that was for sure.

[officerjennie]

DIY Porn: Bard Tested, Bard Approved

CW: Smut, bondage, gags, toys, some D/s, DIY porn

Rating: E

Summary: Dandelion and Jaskier have the brilliant idea to make their own porn when the internet fails them, so Dandelion gets tied up, gagged, and fucked. But it seems they might have gotten the roles mixed up by the end. WC: 2.7k+.

A special thanks to @jaskierswolf Bard Peddler Extraordinaire for doing their peddling job so well <3

This was a sight Jaskier would never forget.

Dandelion was kneeling in the floor for him. They’d cleared out the center of the room just for this show, having had to push much of their stuff out of the way, leaving only a floral rug for him to kneel on. Jaskier couldn’t help but lick his lips even as he tried to focus on the camera, setting up the tripod at just the right angle to capture the scene that they’d gone over several times before their night had begun.

It had been wonderful luck that the two’s kinks lined up so beautifully. But the internet, as vast and wondrous as it was, could never seem to satisfy exactly what they needed. It had been Dandelion’s idea to make their own pornography when site after site gave them nothing, or at least what it gave was subpar to what their fantasies had crafted for them - and Jaskier had jumped on the idea, more than willing to run the extra mile to see the poet tied up and gagged with his body begging for him.

And that’s exactly the pretty picture Dandelion was for him at that moment, splashed with color in the viewfinder, red silk rope running all across his body and making Jaskier’s fingers itch to get back on his skin.

But he had to wait, just as Dandelion did, because as much as he really wouldn’t mind doing this all over again he was desperate himself to see exactly how pretty they could be together.

It took some doing, figuring out the right angle. And maybe Jaskier took his time just so Dandelion had to wait longer, the poet’s cock leaking precum that dripped down onto the rug below him, jerking movements attempting to gain friction, his body occasionally spasming in that way that told Jaskier his beautiful poet was clenching around the plug stuffed up his arse.

“Going to be good for me, love?”

He was finally ready. Coming over to brush the blond curls away from Dandelion’s face, to see those beautiful blue eyes glistening with tears from want, the gag in his mouth preventing him from saying anything - and at that moment Dandelion was all the more beautiful for his silence.

It was sometimes infuriating how good Dandelion was with his words. They were both masters of their art but Dandelion - oh Dandelion could reduce Jaskier to nothing but a sputtering mess, his eloquence leaving him speechless, taking coherent thought away from him whenever the poet saw fit to do so. Jaskier loved his poet but for this he needed control, craved it, and there was no way to maintain it if Dandelion could speak.

Convenient, then, that his dear friend wanted to relinquish control so badly.

“You look beautiful like this.” Jaskier leaned across his back, pressing against his bare flesh with his still-clothed body, skimming a hand down his friend’s chest while breathing in his ear. He felt the poet shudder under his touch, felt the whine that desperately wanted to escape his lips but was held back by the gag. The robe was wondrous to feel tied around him making Jaskier’s heartbeat pick up its pace as his hand traveled down, down towards the patch of blond curls he knew waited for his fingers at the base of Dandelion’s cock - and another desperate whine tried its best to be heard.

“Tied up all pretty for me,” he breathed as his fingers found their way through the blond curls, teasing, not touching the aching cock that would have begged for his touch if it could. Dandelion jerked under him, his eyes watering further, pink splashed across his cheeks and chest, and Jaskier had never more than then wanted to know what pink tasted like. “Bet your hole is just begging for the real thing, isn’t it, dearheart? Gods but you’re going to be tight, I know you are, going to clench around me and eat me right up.”

A choked sound came from his friend and Jaskier was once again so grateful his friend couldn’t speak, knowing it was only the gag that kept Jaskier in control - and his control was already such a weak thing. He was weak for his poet, always drawn to him, consumed by him.

Jaskier licked his lips as he leaned back to admire his handiwork again. Red rope tied around him in pretty little knots that he’d spent an egregious amount of time learning to perfect. And really, he knew they weren’t perfect quite yet, could see where he’d struggled when the rope wouldn’t work with him. Some of the knots were a little too loose, some a little too tight, some not quite aligned perfectly with the others. But fuck if it hadn’t been hot to gag Dandelion and tie him up, the poet not even able to laugh as Jaskier struggled and cursed while working the rope around him.

Which is exactly why the gag had been stuffed into his mouth first, and the ropes had come next.

All in all, though it wasn’t the perfect job, Jaskier had done well. Practice had paid off, all of the books he’d poured over trying to find the best technique, the best pattern to tie his friend into. And Dandelion looked good in red; he licked his lips again, his hand running up his friend’s back between his shoulder blades, wondering what other colors would suit him.

They would have to do this again. For the video, of course. Jaskier’s eyes flickered over to the camera, checking that the red light was blinking, that it was still recording. There was no way they’d make the perfect video the first go around, but fuck was it going to be glorious to watch himself take Dandelion apart. All those times they’d fucked in front of a mirror had been fucking wonderful but memories alone could only get him so far when he was by himself.

And there was a thought that had his cock twitching in his pants. Filmed in front of a mirror, without Dandelion talking his brain senseless. Gods but he needed that.

He had to shake his head, clear his own thoughts, force himself to live one fantasy at a time. When his hand reached the long blond curls he wrapped his fingers in them, smirk on his lips as he got ready to put on a show for them, the future audience.

With a rough tug, he yanked Dandelion back, reveling in the whimper it drew from him. But before Dandelion could properly adjust his weight Jaskier was shoving him forward, forcing Dandelion to put his pretty little arse on display for him. It was impossible to form words when he slid his hands down to spread his cheeks apart, catching sight of the light blue plug that kept Dandelion worked open for him, his hole pink and slick from where he’d prepped himself before he’d even come over.

Jaskier couldn’t- he just couldn’t with this man. He had to bite back a whimper himself, knowing just how gorgeous Dandelion looked purring around his own fingers, his curls mussed up from how he’d grip his own hair, the way his whole body flushed as he gasped and drove himself wild with pleasure. Was there truly any way to ever think around this man when Jaskier knew him so well?

“Bet you want to beg me to fill you up, don’t you?” It was faux control that colored his tone, his words more breathless than they should have been, the urge to touch finally winning as his fingers found the end of the plug. Dandelion quivered around it as he took hold of it, spinning the toy inside of him, Jaskier’s hips gently rocking despite himself as he heard the muffled whimpers and moans it drew from his poet. “Want to beg me to fuck you, spill in you, fuck darling you’ll be so gorgeous leaking my cum.”

Jaskier could barely keep his eyes open at the thought, pulling the toy out just the smallest bit and pushing it ever so slowly back in. And he knew Dandelion would be writhing if he could, would be talking and moaning until Jaskier’s brain was nothing but static and the desire to please him - it was already slipping there without the aid of Dandelion’s voice, and it was infuriating in the best of ways.

There were not enough words in the lexicon to describe how Dandelion looked at that moment. Bent over and needy, wanting, leaking precum wiggling pitifully in his binds. The plug working slowly in and out of him and driving Jaskier crazy as it did, his own hips unable to stay still knowing how that tight hole would feel around him, how well he could fill it and fuck it. And he needed it desperately, to fuck his Dandelion like the poet wanted him to.

Gods but he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d wanted to tease Dandelion for a while, leave him wanting, but it didn’t feel right leaving him clenching around a plug when it should be his cock. Jaskier had meant to drive him crazy edging him, had wanted to suck his aching cock and have Dandelion sobbing from it but he wanted to fuck him, please him, be good for him.

The ties to his pants could not come undone fast enough. He didn’t bother taking off his clothes and just fished out his cock, a whimper quivering his breaths when he had it in hand, and he almost forgot the plug was in the way when he went to rub it between the poet’s ass cheeks. It could probably be played off like he’d just been wanting to tease him but Jaskier wasn’t sure, and couldn’t quite think straight, the fuzz in his mind taking the words away as he felt the other’s hot skin around his cock.

The plug had to go. It dropped heavy on the rug next to them, and Jaskier had to fight to keep himself from thrusting into him hard. Had to fight to remind himself to go slow, that this was meant to be a show, a performance - he was good at those, good at performing, but the world was slipping from him and he couldn’t quite remember why it was so important to put on a show.

When the tip of his cock popped past the ring of tight muscles, Jaskier thought he might lose control. Curses dripped between breaths as his hands shook, one clenching on Dandelion’s hip, the other soothing his friend’s back - and he’d entirely forgotten that he’d been meaning to speak filth to him, to speak in commands, because all he could do was moan and stammer out in starts and stops over how good Dandelion felt around him.

All of his control was spent pushing slowly into him. Working his way to the point where they rested fully against each other, where he felt the whole of his length being clenched rhythmically by his poet. His breaths were trembling things, small noises whimpered out here and there, his eyes hardly able to focus past the feeling of Dandelion around him. Dandelion, his Dandelion, who was doing his best to get him to fuck into him and Jaskier had ever found him the most difficult person in the world to say no to.

How could he say no then?

There was a rhythm to his thrusts at the start. Slow out, fast in, his hands hardly able to keep themselves still on Dandelion’s skin. He felt every inch he could reach, at first just because he could, but then his fingers found the spots that he knew made Dandelion tremble. The poet’s thighs had always been especially sensitive and though it was difficult to caress them in just the right way as he thrusted into him Jaskier tried.

But the heat was consuming him. His mind was hazy. His words made no sense - and really he wasn’t sure if he was speaking words at all anymore, lost in the desire to make Dandelion feel good, to be good for him, his fingertips finding the rope at the poet’s thighs and a yearning built up in him.

There was no rhythm then. Jaskier couldn’t help himself, laying against his friend’s back, hearing the muffled moans and suddenly finding his own too loud.

Dandelion was gorgeous, all tied up in red. Left wanting, left to his mercy, but Jaskier wasn’t thinking on that anymore. All thoughts of the porno they were filming had left his mind so far behind he couldn’t even remember they were doing it, his hands greedy things as they felt around Dandelion’s body, feeling the rope and wanting and yearning to know.

He was whimpering, shaking against Dandelion’s back, and Dandelion wasn’t whining anymore. Every clench of the tight muscles that were wrapped around Jaskier’s cock was purposeful, every one of them sending his thoughts scattering further until his mind was nothing but static and desperation - and the last coherent thought he had was that of course Dandelion found a way to be in control even when relinquishing it all over to him.

As his hands roamed Dandelion’s body, his fingers desperately feeling the rope, it felt wrong that his own arms and legs had such freedom. As his whines and whimpers grew higher in pitch the room felt so full of them, the air so empty of that voice that usually spoke him through to the edge and beyond, so void of those words that could so easily make him a begging mess of please and more. When he spilled into him, he cried out, babbling and fucking his seed deep inside of Dandelion - and all he wanted was to feel Dandelion’s cum inside of him, dripping out of him, down his thighs as his own cock was left untouched and aching.

Jaskier couldn’t stop shaking against him. Even after the high of his orgasm left him, even as he laid against his back, he shook, wanting, needing - he needed so much but he wasn’t sure what he needed, but Dandelion would know. As soon as that truth was known to him he was reaching out, fumbling with the gag in Dandelion’s mouth, needing to hear him speak.

“That’s it, pet,” Dandelion gasped out the moment the gag was gone, and relief washed over Jaskier the instant he heard his voice. It was safe, it was warm, it was right, and some of the shaking went away. “What a wonderful mess you’ve made the both of us, such a beautiful job you’ve done. Now, why don’t you take this rope off of me. Think you can manage that for me, darling?”

Jaskier would attempt anything in the world if it was for Dandelion at that moment. It took a while, his fingers and hands couldn’t stop trembling, but as Dandelion talked him through it Jaskier slipped further and further until he was nothing but a man in Dandelion’s lap, a mess for Dandelion to fix, to lead and guide, and to use as he wished.

“I think we might have made a bit of a mistake in our planning, darling.” Dandelion kissed the top of his head and Jaskier whimpered, already hard once more, feeling Dandelion’s aching and neglected cock pressing against his thigh. “Think we might have to try again. Would you like me to tie you up this time?”

Jaskier had never wanted anything more in his life. He needed to feel secured, held down, needed to hear Dandelion’s voice when he couldn’t make any sounds of his own, when his world would be naught but Dandelion’s voice, his command, his hands, his body.

They had gotten it very wrong their first time, but they were both more than happy to rectify that wrong - and Jaskier, after this was all over, after he was sobbing around the gag in his mouth and dripping Dandelion’s seed, desperately trying to clench and keep it all in, after Dandelion took him apart and put him back together with skilled hands and a dangerous silver tongue-

-after all of this was over, when they’d sit back and enjoy the footage played back on Jaskier’s laptop, he’d be forever grateful that the camera had been rolling the whole time.

--

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[between-two-fandoms]

Cause This Is Our Someday

Ao3 Link

Fandom: Big Time Rush

Rated: T

Word Count: 1,622

Pairing: Kendall KnightxLogan Mitchell

Tag list (ask to be added or removed):

@toomanyfandomstoolittletime @innocentbi-stander @mirrcrballbaby

Kendall enlists Katie and James's help getting him ready for a date with Logan. Self discoveries, pining and meddling little sisters prove to complicate things for Kendall, though this is what should have been a simple first date with his boyfriend.

~~~~~~~~~

Kendall loved his family, they were easily the most important thing in his life outside of hockey…. Hockey and maybe now the band. Especially Katie, his adorable albeit sometimes scary little sister. She gave up so much just so he and his boys could become a band. Sometimes… sometimes he’d forget, though she was only twelve she still had friends back in Minnesota. She had her people, however little they were.

Katie was one of the strongest twelve year olds he knew, she was his rock. She was his sounding board on a lot of things like, for example, getting ready for a date with Logan. “Too much?” Kendall asked, a hint of flush on his face as he walked out of the bathroom in a loud Hawaian polo shirt. Katie stared at him blankly from her spot perched on the top of the kitchen table.

“Way too much big brother,” Katie said between stifled laughs. A flash went off and before Kendall could make a grab for it she already had her phone tucked back into her bag. “You need to be… not so ugly,” she admitted. Kendall let out a noise of protest.

“I am not ugly,” he squeaked. Katie rolled her eyes and hopped off the table. She walked over to him and made him spin around so she could see all angles. “I’m the front man for a boy band that hit the top charts on our first tour.” Kendall said, only to get a snort in response. Katie grab his arm to get him to stop spinning.

She stared up at him and he couldn’t exactly place the expression. Katie learned how to master expressions as a young child - she was still young - but the control she had and how grown up she already was sometimes made Kendall’s heart hurt. “Your fans didn’t know you when you decided wearing a purple sequined dress shirt to homecoming was a good idea. If it wasn’t for Kelly and your stylist I’d bet Big Time Rush’s signature outfit would’ve been those stinky old jersey’s,” Katie scrunched up her nose and Kendall put his hands on his hips.

“Are you going to help me or just sit there and insult me Miss. Fashion Police?” Kendall asked, staring at her. Kate giggled and then put two fingers into her mouth and whistled. Confusion crossed his face then realization sparked in Kendall’s eyes when James rounded the corner holding jeans and a muscle t-shirt with some band logo. “Oh no, nuh uh definitely not,” Kendall vetoed, backing up from the offensive outfit.

James just stared at Kendall pointedly. “Dude, you’re easily the guy with the most muscle. Logan likes staring at them,” he added, a smirk on his face. Kendall glared at James and Katie in betrayal.

“How do you know he likes staring at my arms?” Kendall asked, crossing them against his chest defensively. Katie cackled, the laughter loud and whole. He was glad the two of them were having fun laughing at his expense. All he wanted was fashion advice, next time maybe he’d go to the Jennifers instead.

Katie shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You’re in the front so you can’t tell, but why do you think Logan’s been tripping over his feet during practice recently?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes Kendall couldn’t quite bring himself to trust. Katie liked getting her sticky fingers involved into his love life, she had a history of sabotaging his dates if she didn’t like the girl. Granted, in the long run she’d always be right but that's besides the point.

“Kendoll, come on!” James insisted, his eyes sparkling as he took a step closer. Kendall dropped one of his arms, keeping the other securely wrapped around his chest. “You’d look so smoking in this fit, these are from that awesome jean store in the mall - Denim On Denim?” He asked. James smirked a little bit, the corner of his lips curling up into a smile. “Plus like… if Logan doesn’t like the shirt on you I’m sure he’d like the shirt even more when it’s off you.” Kendall’s face flushed bright red and he snapped his hand out and snatched the shirt from James.

“Okay okay enough. You guys are the absolute worse,” Kendall complained, though there was no earnesty to it. James and Katie snickered behind him as he ducked back into the bathroom to change the date outfit. “Logan and I are going to keep things PG13 tonight,” he said through the bathroom door emphasizing the term. He was acesexual, not that the other two knew that yet but… god Logan was so understanding when he came out. Kendall tried to explain how he felt about the whole Sex thing, that he could take it or leave it, that it wasn’t the most important thing in the world to him and Logan just held him through it, hugging him.

Once he won the short lived battle with the muscle shirt and pulled it over his head Kendall took a few seconds to appreciate the look in the mirror himself - he hated to admit it but they were right. He did look ridiculously good in a muscle shirt. Kendall brushed his fingers through his air in a halfhearted attempt to get it to stay down. He wasn’t worried too much about his hair, it would give Logan an excuse to play with it.

James cat called him when Kendall finally left the bathroom in the chosen outfit for date night. “You’re looking fly as hell Knight,” James said, a hint of jealousy in his voice. “Logan’s gonna love it,” for some reason Kendall detected some sort of… wistfulness… in James’ voice when he spoke. Almost something with a bittersweet taste to it. Before Kendall could ask what was wrong James whisked him into the family room for pre-date pictures. Carlos was waiting for them with a camera on a tripod all set up and Kendall’s ears flushed pink.

“Awe, he’s embarrassed,” Katie teased lightheartedly. Kendall stuck his tongue out at her, she stuck her tongue out back. “Kendork, you’re going to kill it,” she promised. Anxiety bubbled up underneath Kendall’s skin as his brain worked through all the way things could go wrong during his date with Logan. “James he’s doing the Thing again,” Katie complained, walking over to dig into the pantry for a bag of popcorn.

“Yeah I can see that,” James said unhelpfully. Kendall had begun pacing, nervously walking back and forth as he ran a hole into the carpet in the living room. “Hey Kendall, buddy you need to look at me,” James reached out hesitantly, but Kendall didn’t flinch away from his hand. James put his hand on Kendall’s shoulder and squeezed it. Kendall stopped pacing, his eyes were still a little unfocused but his breathing got slower. “Logan is so gone for you there’s literally zero competition,” James continued, keeping his hand on Kendall’s shoulder, a grounding force. “It’s painfully obvious you guys feel for each other,” he said… there was that hint of bittersweet again. Kendall let out a quiet whine and reached out for James, pulling him in for a hug.

“Simp,” Katie coughed into her popcorn. James glared at her to get her to shut up then turned his attention back to Kendall. Kendall was already feeling a lot better than he did before. He always felt safe around James. They always knew what they felt to each other, they always… they could always go to each other for help… for anything.

“Kendall?” Some asked quietly from behind them. It took Kendall a few seconds to place the voice then the name slid into place and he took a deep breath. Logan, his mind supplied. He hugged James for a few more seconds, holding him close to his heart, then Kendall pulled away. For a brief millisecond an expression of hurt flickered across James’s face but then his smile was back. It was so quick Kendall swore he imagined it happening. “Wow, you look… you look really good,” Logan said, his voice soft and warm. Kendall smiled bashfully at Logan, stepping into his outstretched arms. Kendall accepted the hug, letting Logan pull him in as he pressed his face into Logan’s shoulder.

“See?” Katie asked teasingly, chucking a handful of popcorn at Kendall. “I told you he’d like it! But oh no you didn’t believe me,” she singsonged, skipping around the room. Logan chuckled at the interaction and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Kendall’s head. Kendall pulled out of Logan’s chest looking a bit more flushed than normal, a boyish smile on his face. He reached down to interlock their fingers together. They let Carlos snap a few pictures of them before Logan insisted they’d miss it, whatever it was Logan was taking Kendall too. James had disappeared somewhere in the madness - Kendall made a mental note to check on him later. Surely it was nothing one of his infamous pep talks couldn’t fix.

“Ready?” Kendall asked, a nervous tremor to his voice. Logan smiled at Kendall and squeezed his hand.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Logan promised. He tugged Kendall a bit closer to steal a chaste kiss on the lips. “You really do look amazing Kendall,” he whispered, nuzzling into the nape of Kendall’s neck. Katie let out a noise of disgust then left the room, complaining about PDA in common areas or something. “Come on, I promise you’re going to love this,” Logan said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. Kendall nodded and kissed Logan’s shoulder as he let Logan tug him out of the apartment and to wherever life was taking them next.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [9]

Warnings: non-consent sex (fingering, toy play, dildo, butt plug); violence

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself trapped.

Note: Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

You were shaking. Your veins flowed with fire and yet the basement was frigid. You watched Steve’s broad shoulders as he bent over the plastic drawers. You could hear him sifting around though you couldn’t see through what exactly. He stood straight and you trembled.

He turned as he extended the legs of the tripod. He was deliberate as he spread them and pulled out a small camera. He secured it and looked to your as his finger hovered over the button.

“Do you mind if I record this?” He taunted. You grunted and he pressed a button.

You tugged on the hook but only managed to swing your feet. It took you a moment to get your toes steady on the floor. As he reached into the drawer again, you bared your teeth, helpless as the restraints stretched your arms above you. 

The breath went out of you as you saw what he held. It was all too familiar. The rabbit was yours; the same purple hue. You’d found it missing a few days before but merely thought you’d moved it without thinking. He lifted the silicon as he admired the length and neared.

“How--” Your voice fizzled as his eyes flared and you clasped your lips shut.

“It’s a good start,” He taunted. “But nothing compared to the real thing.”

He hit the small button hidden by the small arm. The toy began to buzz and he poked it against your cheek so that your teeth chattered. He dragged it down your neck and chest. He held it there and jabbed you with it sharply.

“I’m trying to figure out if that’s fear… or something else,” He smirked. “Your heart is racing.”

You opened your mouth and tasted the blood along your lip. You closed your mouth again and thought better of talking. Your cheek was still throbbing.

The dildo tickled you as he pushed it lower. He pressed it to your stomach and traced along the waist of your pants. You gulped back a breath as he inched onward. He stopped again, just along your vee. He came closer and grabbed the back of your head. 

He forced the toy between your legs roughly and pushed it against your cunt. He clicked the button again and it buzzed faster. Once more and you could feel it clearly through your pants. He pulled your head back and his blue eyes bore into you.

“You like to play innocent, don’t you?” He sneered. “But you’ve been hiding this…” He pushed harder and you winced. “Whew, listen to that heart go.”

Your thighs squeezed around his hand and shook. He began to move the rabbit against you and you felt your panties getting damp. You closed your eyes in shame and he released your head only to smack it.

“Look at me,” He hissed. Your eyes snapped open and he grabbed your chin, adding to the tenderness in your jaw.

“Steve,” You rasped as you tried to wiggle away from him.

“Shut up.” He snarled. “The only thing I want to hear from that mouth is you cumming.”

You whined and sealed your lips. The ripples spread from the toy into you. The waves spread from your core and along your spine. Your shoes slipped on the floor and your breath picked up. His hand wrapped around your neck again and he leaned in so that his nose touched yours as he rubbed you faster.

“Let me hear it,” He said. “I can see it--”

“Ahhh,” The small gasp burst from your lips. 

You tried to swallow it back but he didn’t let up. Your eyes watered as you gulped like a fish and the long moan escaped you. It rose to a fever pitch and you bared your teeth as the carnal cry was torn from your body. Your back arched without thinking and your thighs clenched around his hand as you came.

He snickered and ripped his hand from between your legs. He shoved you so you swung from the hook and shut the toy off. He tucked it in his front pocket, it barely kept from tipping out. He rounded you again, like a hawk. You hung your head and measured your breaths.

“Just like every other pest on this planet, you don’t realise how much you owe me.” He stopped in front of you again. “You owe me your life and that’s what I’m gonna have.”

He grabbed the front of your blouse. He tore it easily, the frills shred in half as it split to the hem. He snapped the right strap of your bra and then the left. He ripped it from you as the hooks popped out of the back and dropped it at your feet. The fabric of your shirt draped loosely from your shoulders and exposed your chest.

He tweaked your nipple and made another circle around you. He pressed himself to your back and reached around to undo your fly. He shoved his hand down your pants and felt along the cotton of your underwear. He tutted and drew his hand away. He grabbed the sides of your trousers and tore them down.

“You’re wet.” He remarked. “But you stand there and act like I’m such a bad guy.”

“Stop,” You begged weakly.

He untangled your pants from your ankles and threw them aside with your wedged shoes. He bunched the side of your panties in his hand and turned you to face him.

“What was that? You giving me orders?” He challenged. You shook your head in fear. “Despite all the trouble you’ve caused, I’m still the captain. You listen to me.” He wrenched your panties down and let them fall along your legs. “The only words you will speak are ‘yes, Captain’.” He turned you away from him and slapped your ass. It stung and you groaned through your teeth. “Nothing else. Understood?”

You shuddered and he smacked you again. This time it sent a pang up to your shoulders. You whimpered as your eyes dampened.

“That’s when you answer me, bitch.”

“Yes… Captain,” You said, hissing through the pain.

“Louder,” He slapped you again.

“Yes! Captain!” You called out as your legs quivered beneath you.

“Better,” He rubbed your sore flesh. “You’ll have lots of time to practice.”

He spun you back to him and took the toy from his pocket. He waved it before you and watched it intently.

“You use this a lot?” He asked. “I replaced the batteries, don’t you worry.”

You looked to the ceiling, your wrists ached from the cuffs.

“You seem the lonely type. Repressed.” He brushed the toy against your thighs and you closed your legs. “Off chasing your little fairy tales.” He pinched you. “Open those fucking legs.”

You parted your legs and he pushed the silicon against your cunt. He waited, silently.

“Yes, Captain,” You breathed.

“Good,” He purred and clicked the button. The toy pulsed against you and quickly rekindled the flickering flame. “Back then, before all this, women like you never made it far. They all just ended up in the exact place they were running away from; a horde of children tugging at their skirts.”

You were quiet as you kept your eyes above you.

“They say those weren’t the good ole days. Say we were wrong,” He clicked the button again. “But they don’t know. They can’t.” He dragged the toy along your folds, lingering on your clit before repeating the motion. “Look at me.”

Your eyes flitted down to him. He stepped even closer and angled the toy against your entrance. He turned it so the little arm faced him. You tried to say something but your voice died as he shoved the dildo inside you. He clicked the button again and the arm pressed against your clit.

“That’s it,” He began to move the toy, slowly. “I see it. You don’t want that life. You know it’s not meant for you.” He grasped the back of your head and pressed his cheek to yours as his breath grazed your ear. “You know this is where you belong. You knew that day… you knew what you were doing.”

“No…” You gulped.

“What?” He pushed the toy to its limit. “What did you say?”

You squeaked but kept silent.

“I never want to hear that word. You got me?” He growled.

“Yes, Captain,” You forced out.

“I don’t want to break that face,” He warned. “I really don’t.”

“Yes, Captain,” You whined as he thrust the toy in and out.

“Come on,” He sped up as the vibrations had your nerves whirring. “Don’t you want the real thing?” Your pussy made slick sounds as he pounded the toy into you. “You come and I’ll let you have it.” He slammed it in hard. “Come.”

You grabbed onto the metal clasp above you and your feet arched painfully. Your legs tensed as he worked the toy inside of you, over and over. You panted desperately and tossed your head back. You squealed as you came and the pleasure rolled over you like crashing tides.

He held the toy inside of you and let it buzz as he drew back and knelt to watch you shake. His eyes focused between your legs as he slowly pulled the dildo out and rubbed his fingers through your cum. He shook his head as he stood and clicked the toy off. He pressed it to your lips.

“A good woman cleans up after herself.”

He pushed until it hurt and you opened your mouth. He shoved the rabbit to the back of your mouth, the arm pushed painfully against the roof of your mouth. You nearly choked as he jammed it in and out several times and you tasted yourself on the silicon. You gagged and he tore it out suddenly. You barely held back the wave of nausea as he admired the string of spit hanging off the toy.

“Almost there,” He keened as he stepped around you. 

He placed the rabbit atop the stack of drawers and opened another. You heard a soft metallic rustle and he turned to you with a thin metal chain. He watched the silver sparkle in the light as he came close. 

“I never knew much about this stuff but with all this time off, I had a lot of time to shop around.” He grinned. “Things I never even thought of before.”

He clipped one of the metal clamps over your nipple and you flinched. He did the other and you curled your fingers into a fist. The other end hung down your stomach and dangled in front of your pelvis. He reached down and lined up the clamp with your clit. He secured it around your swollen bud and you let out a tortured cry.

He backed up and was once more at the drawers. You shied away from the lens as the red light shone back at you. He flipped open the cap of a bottle as he returned to you and the shape in his other hand was a blur. You flinched away as he touched your ass and spread your cheeks.

The cool liquid flowed around your hole and you teetered on your toes. You tried to step away from him but only managed to stumble. He growled in warning and he rubbed around your ring with his fingertip. He slowly pushed until he was inside, just a little, and he drew his finger in and out as he carefully stretched you.

He pushed another in and you exclaimed. The burning pain intensified and he impaled you to his knuckles.

“Tight ass bitch,” He laughed darkly and pulled out.

You felt another prod in place of his fingers and you tried to turn away. He slapped your ass and tossed the lube across the floor.

“So much for being nice,” He hit the back of your head and grabbed your shoulder. “We can do it the hard way.”

He pushed and the shape slowly stretched your ring. Your breath was laboured as it only got wider and wider. You mewled pathetically and a tear trickled down your cheek. The fullness was unbearable as the plug reached its limit and your hole puckered around its stems. You wiped your face on your arm.

He circled round you and his hand went to his hips as he took you in.

“Now, the real fun starts.” He announced as his lips curved.

[hongism]

Would you rather: have yoongi make a personal sex tape with 2 of your fav kinks or have seonghwa make a personal sex tape with 2 of your fav kinks

pairing: seonghwa x female reader

genre: slice of life, smut

rating: Mature

summary: seonghwa has an idea to spice things up in the bedroom, and you simply can’t refuse him.

word count: 759

warnings: dom/sub themes, sir kink, choking, finger sucking, dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, petnames, exhibitionism, recording a sex tape

a/n: hhhhhhh i imagined bOTH yoongi and seonghwa and alfkjlfkjweiojk omg i’m cry but wowowowow i can’t even pick 2 fav kinks i have too many-

“And we’re recording, baby.” The camera releases a small beep, a red light appearing in the corner of your vision where Seonghwa stands beside it. He pops up from behind the tripod, and a broad smile stretches across his lips. You return the smile with one of your own, eyes crinkling as you look at him. “Are you ready?” He asks in a quiet tone. You respond with a slight nod. “Good girl.” Seonghwa rounds the edge of the bed, meeting you halfway as you crawl up to join him at the edge.

You stretch up for a kiss, but Seonghwa presses his index and middle fingers against your lips instead. Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side and blink up at Seonghwa. When he first suggested the idea of recording a sex tape, you figured it would be an extremely basic thing. Just a bit of foreplay, some oral sex, and then a quick fuck. That’s all. You weren’t expecting him to pull this tactic out, because you know that it’s going to lead to a long night.

“Hwa…” You exhale, and as soon as you part your lips, Seonghwa pushes his two fingers into your mouth. He curls them down, hooking them against the bottom row of your teeth.

“Be good for sir and take his fingers, angel.” You don’t need to be told twice. Seonghwa tugs you forward, so far forward that you nearly fall off the bed, and that’s when you realize that he had the camera angled in a specific way. It’s quite obvious why now. “Floor. Now.” You scramble to get on the floor as his tone becomes domineering, Seonghwa’s fingers still pressed between your lips. He relaxes his hand and lays his fingers flat against your tongue. You begin to swirl your tongue around them. Another finger slips into your mouth and stretches it further. Seonghwa pushes your head to the left, angling you more towards where the camera is aimed.

He twists around you in one swift move. You keep doing as told, swirling your tongue and lapping at his fingers as though your life depends on it. It’s a sweet and pleasant stretch in your mouth even as Seonghwa moves. He sits down on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for you to fit between them.

“Straddle my thigh, princess.” Your eyes widen like before when Seonghwa gave you a command. First the finger sucking, now thigh riding? Was this all part of his plan. “That was an order, princess.” Seonghwa slips his fingers out of your mouth, and you whine at the empty sensation that you’re left with. You do as told though, crawling up to his lap and situating your body over his right thigh. Seonghwa lets one hand trail over your body. He caressing the skin that peeks out between the fabric across your breasts. “Beautiful,” he mutters. You reach up and comb a few loose strands of black hair off his forehead.

Seonghwa drops a hand to your ass. He pushes you against his thigh, letting your core rub against his muscular leg. You release a small whine. Seonghwa reaches over to grab the camera. He keeps one hand on you, working you against his thigh, and uses to the other to point the camera at the place where your clothed core rubs against his bare leg. Your leg brushes against his cock with every thrust against his thigh. Seonghwa moans quietly at the contact, and you revel in the sound. It’s music to your ears. You push harder against him, making sure to brush your leg against his member with every thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already. I forgot how much you adore riding my thigh like a dirty slut.” You jerk against him at the words.

“You’re d-doing this on pu-purpose, aren’t you?” You huff out, breaths staggered from the effort of rubbing against him. Seonghwa chuckles, a half smirk crawling across his lips. He moves his hand from your ass to your neck. Latching his fingers around your throat, he gives a light squeeze. You whine at the pressure, heat pools in your gut, and you buck your hips against Seonghwa’s thigh. He’s taking you apart piece by piece and you’ve barely started.

“Tonight is all about you, princess. Of course I’m doing this on purpose. I know exactly what makes you tick. Exactly how to get you perfectly riled up. I’m going to wreck you, love. And we’re gonna have it all on camera. Perfect, isn’t it?”

[the1918]

‘video’

Part 1/6 in the series entitled: 

“Lynne Finds Her 2005 Bandslash Livejournal and Changes All The Names to ‘Steve’ and ‘Bucky,’ With Little to No Additional Editing and it Actually Almost Works...?”

Title: “Video” (2.4k Words)

Fandom: MCR MCU

Pairing: Frank/Gerard + voyeur!Bob Steve/Bucky + voyeur!Tony

Rating: NC-17  E (Explicit) - because we go by Ao3 ratings nowadays

Disclaimer: I don't claim to own the members of My Chemical Romance. This never happened. Thank you, Ao3, for existing so that I no longer need to make these statements.

Tags: Top Bucky, Bottom Steve, voyeurism, sex tapes, anal sex, oral sex (blowjobs and rimming), throat fucking, some possible polyamory vibes at the end (that honestly did not translate well from the original bandom text, but I’m keeping it for ~artistic purity~)

Summary: Frank's email has a video attachment.  Bucky’s text has a video.

[A/N: As the series name suggests, I copied my own My Chemical Romance fanfiction from the mid-00′s and changed all the names. For the sake of purity for this little blogging performance piece, I changed little to no additional details, refused beta, and I made almost no adjustments for characterization except where the original details made absolutely no sense. Enjoy—I know 17-year old Lynne certainly did.]

***

When Tony plops down at the desk in his workshop after a long day and opens the text from Barnes, he doesn’t exactly know what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not this.

It’s a video message. Barnes has sent videos before. Usually they contain footage of his cat—Tony thinks its name is ‘Albert’ or something equally as atrocious—or maybe hidden footage of Banner picking his nose when he thinks no one’s looking.

This is not one of those videos.

Initially, it’s nothing hugely alarming. Unusual, yes, but at first he’s just watching Steve sitting on the edge of what Tony recognizes as one of the beds in the tower—probably Barnes’ bed, if the literal rack of combat knives in the background is anything to go on—and Steve’s looking at the camera with some combination of a beet-red face and an expression like he’s trying not to smile.

Tony hears Bucky’s voice for the first time, apparently from behind the camera (phone, tablet, whatever). It’s low, scratchy, and it does not match the expression on Steve’s flushed and jittery face one bit.

“Tell Tony why you’re here, baby—“

“—You know he’s going to delete this the second he gets it—”

“—Tell him.”

Steve’s huffs and rolls his eyes, but then he’s straightening his face and actually looking at the camera. It’s kind of deadly, actually.

“I’m here because Bucky wants you to see me get fucked.”

He holds Tony’s gaze through the lens, three seconds of bright blue.

The screen goes black.

There isn’t much time for Tony to relearn how to take a proper breath.

When the image returns, it’s not just Steve on the edge of the bed anymore. It’s Steve’s bare back, long and muscular and broad across the shoulders with that unfairly small waist, and then Barnes moves back with the camera and makes sure Tony can see Steve’s full glory on his knees with his hands on the headboard.

Barnes is breathing heavy; Tony can tell. Barnes is making sure to let Tony see every inch of Steve’s skin as he begins running his own hands along it, finally coming to his ass. It’s so small that it’s almost cute, but it’s firm and round like Tony always thought it looked through Steve’s ugly chinos. Barnes suddenly grabs the left cheek roughly, and a moan catches in Steve’s throat.

At this point, Tony’s brain can finally process that he’s watching a sex tape. His cock is way ahead of him, already fighting against the fabric of his sweatpants.

Barnes spends a moment caressing the smooth curves of his husband’s hips, and then rearranges himself and the camera so Tony is staring directly at Steve from behind. His legs are spread, cock hanging between them, full and ready and taut. He can see Steve’s head resting on his forearms, burying his face in his own skin.

Barnes slides a finger down the crack of Steve’s ass, applying pressure to the rose-colored pucker he finds. Tony knows now that Steve is familiar with Brazilian waxing.

“You wouldn’t believe how tight this is, Stark.”

His hand moves to cup Steve’s balls lightly, eliciting a whimper from Steve’s and a twitch from Tony’s own dick.

“He’s so fucking good, especially like this, all spread out so you can see him.”

Tony is helpless but to agree.

At first, he doesn’t comprehend the video switching again, but he sees a flicker and the lighting change that inevitably comes with homemade pornography before he notices the slick look of Barnes’ vibranium fingers as he goes to slide one into Steve’s ass.

Steve keens, moving his hips to take more in.

“Yeah, fuck. Just like that, baby.”

Fuck it, Tony thinks. He begins palming his cock through the restriction of his pants, feeling only vaguely guilty about it at this point.

The movement of Barnes’ finger in and out of Steve is easy and wet and completely obscene. He takes a second one without any struggle, a third with a little whimpering but even more encouragement.

Steve loosens under Barnes’ ministrations. The fingers inside him are crooked to tease but not to satisfy, and Tony is starting to think that he could really fucking get into this when the scene changes—again.

Barnes is holding his own cock in his free hand, which, hey, appears to be about as thick and beefy as his Hydra lab-rat body. Tony is both jealous and wildly turned on at this discovery.

Steve’s head suddenly appears in the frame, upside down for a reason Tony can’t quite determine until he realizes he’s hanging it off the edge of the bed. He looks up at Barnes’ camera, smiles a very secret upside down smile, like he and Tony are the only people that know about it.

“He likes this. Watch.”

Like I could look away, Tony thinks as he fucking finally lets himself touch his cock without any fabric to come between.

Steve wets his own lips and Barnes moves forward, tucking himself down into Steve’s mouth. Tony has never seen it done like this in professional porn, not quite as this angle, and shit.

His mouth is vivid red and stretched beautifully around Barnes as the man holding the camera begins thrusting slow, his cock disappearing and reappearing, going a little bit deeper each time. Steve’s eyes are closed, and the sounds he’s making are enough to make Tony wonder who the one getting their rocks off here.

“He’s always asking me to fuck him like this, too. Wants me in him however he can get me. He’s such a fucking slut, Stark.”

Tony is starting to really, really like way Barnes says his name.

Barnes pulls out completely, and then goes forward again, all the fucking way, enough that Steve almost chokes, but not quite. Barnes is busy telling him what a ‘Good fucking boy’ he is while his balls brush over Steve’s face and eyes, and then the man on the bed is running a hand down to his own blushing cock and—

Homemade porn is dizzy. Barnes is not holding the camera anymore.

Tony knows this because everything he sees is pale legs apart in the air and Barnes’ mismatched hands holding them there, his head between them and sucking lightly on the tip of Steve’s cock. He’s completely nude, looking up at the lens from across the pale expanse of Steve’s rippling torso and chest (pink, pink fucking little nipples that Tony really wants to pinch). He holds the camera’s gaze when he lets Steve fall from between his lips and moves his head down to where Tony can hardly see his face.

He doesn’t really need to see it to know where he’s burying it.

“He tastes amazing, Stark, fuck.”

Steve’s hips snap up off the bed, into Barnes’ face, and Barnes just grabs his hips tight and holds him there. Fantastic wet slurping sounds are coming out of his speakers as Tony wonders if Barnes’ tongue is fucking Steve’s ass or maybe just tracing his opening with it. The thought of either makes his fist pump faster.

The sounds that are coming out of Steve’s mouth, loud this close to the camera, just motivate Barnes to be more aggressive. He does something with his tongue that Tony can’t see but it makes Steve let out a pained moan like a dying man, and his leaking cock jumps where it’s resting on his belly.

“Fuck! God, Bucky! Just fuck—“

The screen goes black for the first time since the beginning of the video. If this is the end, Tony thinks, if it’s over and he’s not going to get to see what Steve practically fucking promised him, not minutes ago, if there’s no more on the tape and Tony’s going to have to finish himself off to thoughts of what it might have looked like—

Steve’s flushed face is looking at the lens, focusing somewhere past Tony, like he might be pushing some buttons on the phone or adjusting some settings. It must be on a surface, or a tripod, Tony decides, because the frame is too still for a human hand to be shooting it. After a moment, Steve stops and walks away, over to the bed where Barnes is waiting for him, sitting up with his legs casually spread out in front of him.

Steve straddles him, his knees on either side and his arms loosely thrown around Barnes’ shoulders. They kiss, for the first time the entire video, and if Tony’s being honest, it’s one of the most intense things he’s seen yet. Their mouths move like they’re trying to consume each other whole, like they’re trying to suck the souls out of each other’s throats. Steve shivers visibly and Tony thinks it might be a bit much for him.

Barnes brings his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him in tight, so he’s splayed all across his lap and open, open for Barnes to reach down and run his fingers across his boy’s entrance lightly. Tony can see he’s already taken care of the condom when Steve starts rubbing the lube he poured into his hand onto Barnes’ cock, slow and firm in a way that makes Barnes moan and stop him, like if he goes anymore, he’ll shoot too soon.

Tony’s breath catches when finally, finally, he sees Barnes position himself for Steve to sink down onto. Steve’s head tilts back and his mouth falls, shameless and wanting as he lets Barnes into his body.

There’s a period of adjustment, where Steve looks like he’s just savoring the feel of his husband’s cock, full and thick inside him, before Barnes gets a rhythm going. He moves Steve up and down with his grip on his hips, thrusting up into him simultaneously. The light strain in his muscles is gorgeous, his arm glittering in the dim light.

Steve’s moans are all Tony can hear, loud and decadent in conjunction with the look on his face, all slack in ecstasy and eyes shut tight. He’s putting on a show, Tony can tell, but it’s too damn convincing for him to care.

Barnes slows for a second, but he keeps his hips pinned to Steve’s ass, rotating small circles inside him. He sets his chin on his lover’s shoulder and whispers into his ear hot, fucking criminal.

“Look at the camera, baby. Let Tony see your pretty face while I’m fucking you.”

And oh God, Steve kisses Barnes sweet and slow for a second before his head is turning, looking over his shoulder at the lens with most coy fucking look Tony has ever seen. He’s biting his lip and his mouth is still so fucking red and bright and everything about him, from the tight lines of his hips to the sandy blond hair dusting his thighs, takes Tony’s breath away.

Everything from then on is a blur. The video begins cutting more sporadically, and one moment Tony is looking at Steve’s body stretching around Barnes’ wide erection while Barnes holds the camera, and the next he’s watching Steve’s cock and balls bouncing against his abdomen while Barnes drives into him, hard and unforgiving.

Somewhere around, “Fuck Bucky, baby, you fuck me so good,” Tony starts to lose his grip on his own cock, hand sweaty and slippery from exertion. He’s getting close, and Barnes is swearing more often and when Steve said Tony was going to watch him get fucked, he meant get fucked.

The phone camera is settled on the mattress, moving with them, and Barnes is taking Steve from behind, chest and middle touching every inch of skin on Steve’s back. He reaches around to encircle the other man’s cock in his hand, and Steve groans obscenely.

“Stark wants to watch you come, Stevie. You want that? You want to show him how you shoot all over our nice new sheets?”

Steve’s fingers grasp the comforter tightly and Barnes’ hand slows to a steady, dragging pace. It’s the kind of pull that Tony knows is what makes slow and careful sex so intense. Steve is shaking.

“Get dirty for me, baby. Tony wants to see how dirty you can be,” and Steve comes, just like that, thick white ropes falling onto the crisp linens below. He’s swearing and begging and Barnes straightens, just staring and watching with a hand steadying the small of Steve’s back. He’s got an expression on his face like Tony isn’t the only one seeing Steve exactly like this for the first time.

And Tony’s finally letting go, the tight clench in his gut making it too hard to wait any longer. His vision swims, and for a minute he thinks he can’t see, but then he’s watching Steve look like a puddle of exhausted limbs on the bed while Barnes is fucking him within an inch of his existence, using Steve’s body and becoming this growly, animal thing.

Tony can tell when Barnes comes by the expression on Steve’s face, this self-satisfied smile that tugs on his swollen lips. Barnes collapses on top of him, kissing his back franticly and licking the sweat from it. He’s manic, grabbing Steve’s hair a little roughly and twisting his head to meet his lips, both of them a complete hot mess.

Never in his life has Tony seen anything more mercilessly beautiful.

The video cuts once more. Tony’s hand and pants are covered in his own come, and he’s finally starting to get his breathing under control. This time, the camera is on the night stand. He’s looking at the two figures lying twisted together on the bed in the nearly dark room, and he can make out the slow rise and fall of their chests and the sound of soft, moist kisses. This part, he feels like maybe he should look away. Like maybe it’s not meant for him to see.

Steve’s voice is the one that speaks first.

“Are you really going to send it to Tony?”

“I thought you wanted to?”

“I do! I do, I just—I want to know that you’re okay with him seeing me—us. Together like that.”

“He’s Stark, Stevie. Tony.”

“I know. “

There’s a long moment then, and it’s just silence. It’s just two men holding each other and talking without tongues, and it makes Tony feel like he’s never known fear or indifference in his life.

“Sometimes I like to share you with the people we love, Steve—“

—and Tony is closing out the video message before he has the chance to think twice.

*

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(i told you the ending did not translate well from the original)

See [Part 2] of this terrible, terrible art project

my actual steve/bucky work: [x]

[prayedtoyou]

overrated - read it on ao3

<<  when you get home, will you help me with a project?

>>  sure thing. i have to stop by the gas station on my way back, want anything?

<<  yeah, grab me some of those chocolate covered raisins that i like

>>  you got it. see you in 15

Dean had plans to go home after his three classes of the day to watch Netflix with his hand in his pants and eat pepper jack Cheez-Its until his stomach hurt, but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to cancel those plans to help out his roommate for a few hours. Dean doesn’t often interrupt plans with himself, especially on a day where he doesn’t have any homework and he doesn’t have to show up for a shift at the salvage yard, but Cas is someone Dean doesn’t mind giving up a  few luxuries for.

Dean met Cas in their Design 101 class during freshman year. It was nothing more than a foundation class, one that Dean and Cas had to take in pursuit of their BFA degrees in film and television, and photography, respectively. Dean expected to jack off to the course by flirting with the fellow classmates while still paying just enough attention to pass the class and turn in projects and assignments on time, but when Cas started sitting next to him in the third week of the semester and heckled him about listening to the professor and taking better notes, Dean really started to buckle down and take it a little more seriously.

They’ve been friends ever since. They had late night study sessions during their first year when they were only an elevator ride away from each other’s dorm rooms. Their first college summer was mostly spent at the Biggerson’s just off SCAD’s campus where Cas served tables; Dean would come in to bother him, drink coffee, and take advantage of the free WiFi. They found an apartment they could barely afford just south of the metro area and moved in a week before the new school year started. They still have that same apartment.

This was to Charlie’s disappointment, at first. She had suggested moving in together before Cas had and Dean had been on the fence about it. He loved Charlie, they got along, she understood his nerdy references, they had similar taste in women--but he had been holding out for another photography major to make his move. She quickly forgave him when she met and later moved in with her girlfriend, Dorothy.

There was just something about Cas that set him apart from Dean’s other friends. It might have to do with how passionate Cas was about his classes and major; since sixth grade, he’s known that he would grow up to be a photographer for National Geographic so he could travel the world and take pictures of all his favorite creatures. Or it might have to do with his sense of humor--a little dark and always just flirtatious enough to make Dean wonder just how serious he is and whether or not he should laugh or take him up on his offers.

More than likely, though, it has to do with how attractive he is, how his smile is so bright it puts the sun to shame, how his laugh makes Dean’s heart swell up like a helium balloon, how he’s intelligent and eloquent, but also absolutely clueless about a lot of stuff Dean considers to be required life knowledge. Does most of that knowledge revolve around Star Wars, Back to the Future, and Indiana Jones movie references? Yes, but that’s beside the point.

And that’s what led Dean to living with the guy for going on three years, to spending entire days dedicated to showing Cas his favorite movies and shows, to picking up dark chocolate Raisinets on his way home from school, to walking into their apartment and calling out Cas’s name just like Ricky Ricardo.

Cas shouts back from the opposite side of the apartment where their bedrooms are. Dean finds Cas in his room, furniture pushed away from one wall and replaced with Cas’s favorite reading chair from the living room (that old, forest-green armchair that Cas found at an antique store on the Savannah River that Dean verbally hated, but secretly used when Cas wasn’t around because it’s about the most comfortable thing in the world), and a camera set up on a tripod facing the chair. Cas is wearing that white button down that looks especially good against the tan he got over the summer, the one that matches Dean’s after they spent several long days on Tybee Island right before their senior year started.

“So, what’s the project?” Dean asks, handing over the box of Raisinets. He curses at himself for forgetting to get a snack of his own while he was out.

Cas takes the box with a smile. “Thanks, Dean. This one is based on touch and what emotions it brings out in us, but we can’t have more than one subject in the shot. So, I need you to put this on.” Cas reaches out and drops a small black object into Dean’s palm.

It’s… a tube of lipstick.

“Uh, Cas? I thought we’ve established that I’m not really much of a model.”

Cas rolls his eyes, no doubt remembering the arguments they had on the river walk during their second year when Cas tried to shoot Dean for an assignment that ended up with them deciding that Dean would stick with filming and Cas would recruit performing arts majors to be his models. “I know, I'm not taking pictures of you, you’re taking pictures of me. I already have the camera focused and everything, you just need to put that on, give me a few kisses, and snap some pictures.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits. “K-kisses?”

“Yeah. I’m using lipstick kisses to represent my past relationships and how I feel about them touching me. Just cheek and forehead kisses. We’re not going to be Frenching or anything.”

“Oh.” Dean looks down at the lipstick, caught somewhere between disappointment and relief, wondering if it would be better or worse if these kisses were meant for Cas’s lips instead of the rest of his face. Would it even be right of him to take Cas up on this offer when he already fantasizes about putting kisses all over Cas’s skin? Would it be wrong for their first kisses to be over some project? “I don’t know how I feel about this, Cas.”

“About what, kissing me? They’re not even real kisses, you just have to pucker up like you're kissing your mom.”

Dean chews on his lip. Would it be so bad to take advantage of the situation and indulge in something he’s wanted since their second semester together? Shouldn’t he be a good friend and roommate and help Cas with his project, no matter the requirements?

Cas must see the uncertainty in Dean’s expression because he continues with, “Come on, Dean, we’re graduating next semester, we’re practically professionals. Are you really going to be embarrassed about a little lipstick when you could be filming HBO sex scenes a year from now?”

Dean looks back up at Cas. If he’s going to insist, who is Dean to tell him no? “Alright, asshole, I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Cas smiles wide and, damn, Dean would wear lipstick every day if it meant Cas would look at him like that. “Okay, there’s a mirror behind you. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just put some on and lay it on me.”

Dean turns to find Cas’s mirror hung up with his portfolio. Photos are hung, tacked, and taped up from vacations, day trips, school projects, and family holidays. Dean is up there a few times: laughing on the opposite side of the table from Cas at Biggerson’s, a selfie of the two of them under the unflattering flash of a smartphone in a dark movie theater, the only good shot Cas got of Dean that day on the river walk, Dean asleep on the couch with a book folded up in his arms like a teddy bear.

Dean didn’t even know Cas took that last one.

He puts on the lipstick, ignoring the photos of himself. It’s definitely not as easy as he thought it would be--staying inside the lines was something he’s improved upon since childhood, but crayons are a lot different from makeup. He manages to swipe the color onto his face, grimacing at the taste of it.

When he looks back at Cas, all he gets is a blank stare and a slight nod. Feeling less than confident with deep red lips, Dean steps up to the plate.

“Where do you want it?”

Dean can hear the click of Cas’s throat as he swallows. He raises a hand, pointing to the knob of his left cheekbone.

“Here.”

Dean steps just a little closer. Cas is about his height, maybe an inch shorter, but it’s not even noticeable when Dean tilts Cas’s face up with a finger and thumb gently pinching his chin. He leans in and--smells Cas’s shampoo, notices the pores on his nose, finds trimmed whiskers along his cheeks--presses his lips right where Cas wanted them.

With the lipstick, Dean can’t taste Cas’s skin, but he can smell the face wash where his nose is sticking into Cas’s temple. Like pomegranates.

When he pulls away, he knows he’s blushing, but he has no way of hiding it, so he just smiles and says, “That’s a good color for you.”

Cas, a little pink himself, scoffs. “Just take the picture, Taylor Swift.”

Cas takes his seat, Dean steps behind the camera. He clicks the shutter button a few times, watching Cas’s face on the screen. He’s leaning his face up and slightly away, lips parted, eyes cast toward the door instead of the lense. It’s a great angle to show off that jawline of his.

Dean was never destined to be a model, but Cas looks just as good in photos as he does in real life. He knows exactly how to position himself, which light to use, how his face should look. He could model, if he ever wanted. Dean asked him if he would star in a short film Dean had to film, but Cas just laughed and said if he wanted to act he would have gone into performing arts.

“That should be enough,” Cas notes, and Dean realizes that he had taken way too many photos while thinking about Cas’s face. He backs away from the camera. “I’ll need a fresh layer for each kiss, so apply some more lipstick.”

Dean does as he’s told and goes back to Cas to kiss him again. This time it’s just above Cas’s right eyebrow. They go on like this a handful more times, until Cas has lipstick stains across his entire face. Each time feels like the first, and Dean has a harder and harder time removing his lips from Cas’s skin as they progress through the photos. Cas doesn’t seem to be as phased--he sits right down and assumes his pose. In each and every picture, Cas mostly just looks sad.

“Why do you look like that?” Dean finally asks after the sixth kiss, snapping pictures.

Cas unfurrows his brow and looks up from the floor. “Like what?”

“Like your dog just died.”

Cas cracks a small smile. “These kisses represent each of my exes and how I felt about my relationships with them.”

“They were all that bad?”

“They certainly weren’t good. After being cheated on, left for someone else, and dumped over text, I don’t exactly have fond memories of most of these people.”

“I remember when that dickhead Balth slept with that web designer. You didn’t leave the house for a week.”

“You took me to the Atlanta Aquarium and pointed at all the ugliest fish and said they looked like him.”

“And I was right. ”

When Cas smiles broadly, Dean sneaks in another picture. The shutter of the lense gives him away, but Cas doesn’t mention it.

“Remember when I watched 500 Days of Summer eight times in two days?” Cas asks. “That’s because Hannah kept telling me she didn’t want a relationship and ended up leaving me for someone who she got engaged to after five months.”

Dean chuckles low under his breath. “Yeah, I remember. I had to force you into the shower and then we went out for burgers.”

“And when Gadreel drunk texted me all the things he hated about me--”

“We toilet papered his frat house and went to a baseball game the next day. We got so sunburnt.”

Cas laughs at the memory and Dean captures it with the camera. He looks so much better like this, happy and covered in kisses from someone who actually cares about him. He deserves to be this happy for the rest of his life.

Cas sobers up and looks at Dean. His expression is soft, something closer to adoration than anything else. Dean wonders if he’s just amused  by the makeup.

“You were always there for me, Dean.”

Since Dean can’t take a compliment to save his life, he shrugs it off. “I was just trying to be a good friend. You did the same for me when Lisa and I broke up.”

They go quiet for a moment. Dean reflects back on the two weeks after their break up. Dean was drinking daily, taking whiskey in a travel mug to his classes, going to bars at night, falling asleep on the couch with a bottle in his hands. It took Cas several tries to get him out of his rut, first by asking Dean what was wrong, then by requesting that he eat something solid, and finally by whacking him with his rolled up yoga mat until Dean cleaned himself up and changed into some fresh clothes.

Dean had grumbled about it for a few days, but it was just what he needed. He couldn’t mope around forever and fall into a pit of alcoholism just because his year-long girlfriend finally got fed up with his shit. Cas spent extra time with him that month, changing his schedule and cancelling plans to hang out or do homework in the same room as him, occasionally reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder or knocking their feet together to remind him that he wasn’t alone. It helped tremendously.

The worst part wasn’t losing Lisa, it was coming to terms with everything he had been trying to deny since he was seventeen. His attraction to men was something he first noticed when a new kid came to his high school and he fell for the linebacker build and honey-sweet Cajun accent. But after dating women exclusively his whole life, the last thing he wanted was for Cas to feel like some sort of experiment.

“What happened? With Lisa. You never told me.”

Cas catches his eye, but Dean directs his gaze away quickly, suddenly finding the curves of the camera very interesting.

“I, um… I wasn’t very good to her. I was kind of using her to get past a crush I had on someone, but it didn’t go away and she said she couldn’t keep living like that. Like she was competing to be my girlfriend. I don’t blame her one bit, she was right to leave me. I just thought, if it was just a crush, it wouldn’t be a problem once I was with someone else, but when I couldn’t stop liking them…”

Dean chances a look at Cas, who looks just as sad as he had in those pictures. His eyes are wide and it almost looks comical with all the lipstick kisses on his face.

“I realized it was more than just some crush,” Dean finishes lamely.

Every part of him wants to tell Cas. But what would be the point? The two of them will graduate and Cas will become the next most famous National Geographic photographer and Dean will be looking for work as a camera holder on low budget movies and shows that may or may not be cancelled halfway through filming. He could always turn to porn as a last resort, but he'll never make it as far as Cas and he’ll never make it with Cas.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship. They worked well together, whether it was study sessions or getting back at exes or picking out mismatching furniture at second-hand stores. He worried about losing his friend. Now he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows he’s going to lose Cas one way or another, and it will hurt less if they don’t get involved with each other any more than they already are.

Cas takes a deep breath, processing the information. He searches the room. His eyes land back on the camera.

“I have one more shot to get.”

Dean blinks. It’s what he expected. It wouldn’t matter if Dean subtly tried to imply how in love he is with Cas or if he bluntly told him, he would always get the cold shoulder. It’s for the best, he tries to convince himself. Any other way would just end in a bigger heartbreak than necessary.

He turns back to the mirror. He finds the photo of him and Cas in the movie theater again. He can’t remember what movie they saw, but their faces are nearly touching and Dean’s arm is around Cas and he wishes more than anything that he’d taken the chance to kiss him back then. Because, what’s the quote? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Does it count when Dean is, technically, in love, but just hasn’t voiced it yet?

With a new coat of lipstick, he faces Cas again. He’s standing in the middle of the room, right next to the camera, ready for his last kiss. Dean musters up all his fake confidence and closes the distance between them, standing just a little closer than he had before.

“And this time?” Dean asks.

Cas looks hesitant. Maybe he’s finally realizing that he should have chosen someone else to kiss him over and over again. Someone who he wouldn’t have to awkwardly live with afterwards. Someone who wouldn’t have made a straightforward project into something uncomfortable.

His hand comes up to his face. He points a single finger to his bottom lip.

“Here.”

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He hunts for any sort of lie in Cas’s eyes, any indication that he didn’t want it, that he wanted to take it back. But Cas just looks right back at him, waiting, patient.

Dean fits the corner of Cas’s jaw into the center of his palm, runs his thumb across Cas’s cheek. A lipstick kiss smears under the pad of his finger, wiping into nothing but a blur, just like the memory of whichever lover that one was meant to be.

When their lips meet, Dean forgets about every single reason he didn’t let himself have this before. Everything in his head melts away until there’s just Cas and mouth and hands and Cas and Cas and Cas.

Cas doesn’t hold back. He grips Dean’s waist like a life raft in the middle of the ocean, opens his mouth and moans when Dean slips his tongue in. He takes everything Dean gives him. He moves his head aside when Dean trails his mouth along his jaw and down his neck, kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin. Dean pulls him closer, desperate to feel as much of Cas as he possibly can.

Dean feels like he’s shaking, or maybe vibrating, with need. Everything is tilting, moving, wavering around him. The lights could blow and he wouldn't even notice, he’s too wrapped up, too confused about which way is left or right.

Their mouths come together again and the world straightens out on its axis. They slow down, brushing their lips together the way pages of a book slide against one another. They take their time. They learn the way they move with each other.

Eventually, they part. Not to gasp for breath, but to rest their foreheads together; to align their hearts. Between them, Dean can smell Cas’s toothpaste and taste the lipstick.

“We should do projects together more often,” Dean concludes humorlessly.

“I think we should skip the projects and just make out,” Cas counters.

Dean pulls back to laugh quietly at Cas, but then sees his face. Cas is covered in lipstick, all around his mouth, his chin, across his jaw, down his neck. The makeup follows the patterns of Dean’s kisses, right down to where he had sucked Cas’s earlobe into his mouth.

He lets loose, practically wheezing at the state of Cas’s face. Dean’s must look similar, because Cas erupts into laughter too and they both sink into each other, bodies convulsing in their arms.

“Come on, come on. One more picture,” Cas begs, pulling out of Dean’s grasp and positioning himself on the chair. He couldn't wipe that smile off his face if he tried, and it looks like he isn’t putting in any effort at all to push it away.

Dean presses the shutter button three times, hoping at least one of them is a good shot, before diving around the camera to pull Cas into his embrace again.

The lipstick ends up on chests, wrist, bed sheets, and hips, but they don’t mind. They might even keep the tube for another time.

tags below the cut!

@sweatercas | @queenvee08 | @fierydeans | | @scamp-00 | @cottondean | @hallowedbecastiel | @wanderingcas | Please let me know if you’d like to be added to/taken off the list!

[starlit-serenade]

Photoshoot

📸 Summary: As a growing small photographer with friends in . . . places, you managed to get an hour long photoshoot with ONEUS's dancer, Yeo Hwanwoong. A dancer who you have admired from a distance for a long time.

📸 Word Count: 1,847 words

📸 Pairing: Reader x Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong) / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader, Photographer!Reader; Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong);

📸 Rated: E / Warnings: None / Genre: GenderNeutral!Reader; Fluff (?); Platonic (?);

You gaze out the window of the bus, phone in hand as you ride to the RBW building, carrying your camera equipment in a large, heavy briefcase.

You've never taken any photography with any RBW artists before. Actually, you've never taken any photography for any K-Pop idols before. You've helped out with some drama and magazine photoshoots, with actors and small dancers, and have even published some nature photography and photography of back-up dancers, but you'd never worked with any actual music artists before.

Through a friend you have, that works at RBW, you managed to get permission to do a small photoshoot with the main dancer of ONEUS, Yeo Hwanwoong.

And Hwanwoong is a dancer you've admired for a while. His dancing is amazing to watch. He has a sort of intense yet graceful style, and is always on point. His confidence and his elegance are both things you are excited to see and hopefully photograph today. Ever since you started photographing dancers, you'd daydreamed about photographing Yeo Hwanwoong.

You have five minutes of walking left to do after the bus, so with your bag of equipment in hand, you make your way down the sidewalk, humming some songs to yourself.

You walk into the building. Your friend is standing in the lobby, smiling. He walks over to you, gives you a tight hug, gives you a visitor's badge, and leads you down the hall.

"You're a bit early. Are you excited?" he asks, ushering you into the elevator. "You get to photograph Yeo Hwanwoong!"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I am excited. Thank you for helping me with this opportunity. But I swear, it's just a photoshoot. It's not any different from the other dancers I've photographed. It's not like I'm partnering with RBW long-term or anything."

"Except for that he's an idol," he says, grinning from ear to ear. The elevator stops, rings, and the doors open into the next hallway. You follow him out of the hallway.

"Well, now you're scaring me," you say. "Is he nice or not?"

Your friend stops at a door on the left, a semi-transparent door. "Oh, he's a sweetheart. Nothing less than kind and friendly." He pushes the door open and ushers you inside. "Maybe in the future, you could partner with RBW and do more photoshoots with the members. You can start setting up your stuff now," he says, checking his phone. "Yeo Hwanwoong should be here within the next ten minutes."

You nod, setting down your equipment. Your friend winks at you.

"Good luck," he says, before leaving, closing the door as he goes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down. You're both nervous and excited. You're nervouscited. 

You stand near your camera, which set on a tripod. You're adjusting the lighting of the room.. You keep glancing around the space in front of you and at the camera next to you, trying to imagine what gorgeous shots you might get today.

You hear a click behind you, the door opening and then closing. You quickly turn around to face the door in surprise, and you recognize him instantly.

Yeo Hwanwoong is standing there, his hands behind his back with a bright smile on his face. He's wearing a loose white button-up shirt and black jeans. the way his hair is done makes him look a bit like a prince.

You quickly stand up straight and bow in greeting. "Hello, Mr. Yeo. I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

"Oh, you don't need to be formal with me," he says. You nod. "You can just call me Hwanwoong. And uh, I know who you are."

You knit your brows and tilt your head curiously. "You do?"

"Well, when they told me you wanted to do a photoshoot with me, I was curious. So I looked you up," he explains. "I really admire your work. And I don't mean the work that's published in magazines. I mean your work. You can really feel the emotions and intentions in them."

You blink in surprise, a bit flustered. You're still beyond shocked that Yeo Hwanwoong of ONEUS looked at your photography, as well as really looked into your photos and analyzed them. Your online portfolio. Your photoshoots. You can feel your cheeks heating up, and you clear your throat.

"That's very kind of you to say, Mr. Yeo." You nod your head respectfully. You're sure that your voice is shaking from excitement. "Shall we get to the photoshoot?"

Hwanwoong nods and chuckles gently. "Right. You asked me to prepare a dance routine, am I correct?"

You nod. "Yes. I've done some dance photography and I really love it. I think photography can capture a lot more than just the dance, especially with really passionate dancers. Which is why I wanted to photograph you.  Sorry, that sounded cheesy."

"No, it's fine," Hwanwoong says, grinning. "I've seen your photos, I think I know what you mean.

You nod. "Yeah. Um. I'll be taking photos from all sorts of angles and you will have to go through the routine several times. Please let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"Of course," he says. "I've done photoshoots before."

You nod. "Right. Uh. Yeah." You're nervous. This is your first time photographing an idol, so you don't know exactly how to handle this.

"Don't be so nervous," he says. "Imagine we're friends. You don't have to be so formal. I know that, as an idol, I can be intimidating. But I'm not scary, I promise." He smiles brightly, and you can feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. You nod and look away.

You and Hwanwoong have been taking photos for a good twenty-five minutes. After you took some initial photos of him, standing in a starting position, you had him start his routine. You would be lying if you didn't get all fuzzy and shy and flustered whenever he makes eye contact with the camera or winks at you playfully after making a flirtatious joke.

"Where would you like me to look?" Hwanwoong asks. "Eyes closed? Eyes forward? The camera? Your pretty face?"

He winks, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. You look away and clear your throat.

"Let's start with eyes forward, if that's okay," you mumble. "And we can move on to you looking at the camera later. If that's alright with you."

As the accompanying music plays in the background, Hwanwoong dances elegantly. You take photos from several angles. When he goes through the routine once, you take photos from a lower angle. And when he goes through a second time, you take them from the side. You make sure to capture his elegant movements, the way his arms stretch out and his wrists are bent.

"Great," you say, clicking through the photos to review them quickly. "Let me quickly adjust the lighting, and then I'll have you looking at the camera. Does that sound good?"

"Sounds great!" He smiles brightly, and you can feel the corners of your lips raising. His smile is so contagious.aq

You walk over to the lamp and adjust its position, moving it to the side and angling it so it'll be shining right on the spot where Hwanwoong will cross over, a place where he will be in a pose that you need to capture in a specific light. You know it'll be stunning.

As you start adjusting your camera a bit, clicking through some of the previous photos to figure out what did and didn't work, you can feel a pair of eyes watching you. You ignore it, Hwanwoong staring at you. Perhaps he's just curious about photography.

You move to kneel down and point your camera at Hwanwoong. He's still staring at you, though his eyes are distant, almost like he's staring through you. He has a soft smile on his face. Not a creepy one. More like a daydreamy smile. He looks more like a Disney prince than you could have imagined.

You nod to him to signal that you're ready for him to start his routine, but he simply slowly blinks.

"Mr. Yeo?" you ask. Hwanwoong nods softly, but doesn't say anything. You clear your throat and speak louder.

"Mr. Yeo, can you please either focus on the dance or the camera and not at me?" you say. Hwanwoong blinks, broken from his trance and smiles that annoyingly adorable smile that you'd spent all morning trying to ignore.

"Of course," he says, resuming his original position. "Ready?" he asks. You give him a thumbs up, and he gives you a quick wink before starting the routine.

You snap photos throughout. His intense gaze, staring into the camera, makes you feel a bit flustered. You try to focus hard on taking photos, Hwanwoong's powerful stare is distracting, causing you to miss a couple great shots.

After he stops, you smile.

"That was great," you say, nodding. "Could you please go through it one more time, exactly as you just did? I need to retake some photos."

"Sure!" he says, smiling brightly. You're very shocked by the switch between his powerful, intense self when he's performing, and his pleasant, cheerful attitude otherwise. He goes from an elegant tiger to a flower petal in the blink of an eye.

After a few more minutes, your time starts to come to a close. Hwanwoong offers to help you pack up your stuff--there isn't much, but he's sweet.

"Thank you for being willing to do this shoot," you say after the end. "I'm really grateful for this opportunity. I will have these photos edited, and I'll be in conversation with the company for publishing stuff."

"Great!" Hwanwoong says. "Thank you for reaching out. It was an honor to work with you, and I had a great time."

You nod and head for the doorway when Hwanwoong calls out.

"Hey, Y/L/N?" he asks. You stop and raise an eyebrow curiously. Hwanwoong walks over and grins nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. "I would love to do another photoshoot with you at some point in the future. Would you be willing to possibly . . . exchange phone numbers?"

You swear you almost faint on the spot. Exchanging phone numbers? With Yeo Hwanwoong? From ONEUS?

"I--uh--well, I--yes!" you stutter nervously. "I mean--yes! Of course!"

Hwanwoong grins mischievously and laughs a bit. He must have noticed he got you a bit flustered and surprised, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches for his back pocket and takes out his phone. "Great! I can tell you my number first, or you can tell me yours."

[runpogorun]

Gravity

To fill my Marvel Fluff Bingo square, Astronomer AU. No warnings apply, rated G, Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson, 2759 words. Read it here or over on AO3.

Matt makes his way slowly into the room. The first thing he finds is the couch in the middle, presumably facing the TV, so Matt circles it slowly, his cane tapping lightly between the heavy thud of upholstery on his left and the hollow chink of wooden skirting board. The cane makes a higher tink as it collides with a metal structure and Matt reaches out with his hand, searching, and confirms a metal cabinet. He continues sweeping his cane across the hardwood floor, wary of any rugs, as his hands skate the surface of the cabinet finding photo frames, three clustered plant pots. He sends some loose sheets of paper skating off the surface and freezes, trying to track their direction of flight. 

“Don’t worry about it!” Foggy calls from the kitchen. “I’ll get them.” 

Matt turns his head over his shoulder, towards Foggy, and grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Comes with the territory.”

Foggy tsks quietly. “It’s not a problem. They’re just bills. You said whisky, right?”

Matt nods, “Yes, thanks,” and resumes his exploration. There’s an open doorway just past the cabinet, and Matt pauses, head tilted. “This the bathroom?”

“Yup.”

Matt moves his cane again, and it twangs in his hand with another metal vibration. But this doesn’t feel as heavy as the cabinet. He frowns, and reaches forward as he hears Foggy come up behind him.

“Oh, that’s a little more fragile, but feel free to… feel away.”

Intriguing. Matt stretches through space and finds smooth, painted metal with his fingertips. The metal is curved into a tube, and as his fingers move along it they find an encircling ridge. The object gives under his touch, and he finds the pivot point, the tripod suspending it. He tucks his cane under his arm and takes a step forward, using both hands to get a better idea of its dimensions.

Matt turns his head back in Foggy’s direction. “Is a telescope actually useful in New York City?”

Foggy makes a considering noise. “It’s alright. Not as good as, say, the Socorro Desert. But I can still see things.”

“Does your apartment have roof access?”

“Not the apartment itself, but the super lets me use the service stairs. 

“Nice.”

“Yeah.”

Matt files that away, drops his hands and turns towards Foggy. “Shall we sit?”

“Sure.” Foggy moves towards the couch. “Did you find the couch? It’s over here.” He pats the cushion with an open palm, a firm thump of orienting sound.

Matt smiles at him. “Yes, thanks.” There’s a coffee table as well that Foggy forgot to mention, but he expected that. He folds up his cane and drops it on the coffee table and sits down next to Foggy before accepting his drink. “So, what sort of things do you like to look at? You’re not a creeper, are you?” He takes a sip, revelling as always in the first burn.

Foggy laughs loudly at that. “No. I’m an astronomer.”

Matt tilts his head. “You said you were a teacher.”

“I am. I teach Observational Astronomy and Cosmology at NYU.”

Matt laughs. “And here I was, thinking you were a dance teacher.” Foggy had held the class in his palm, everyone drawn to him, like he had the strongest gravitational pull in the room. It had only taken three classes for Matt to succumb, and accept an invitation for a drink.

“That’s just a hobby. I like to boogie. And it’s a good way to meet people,” Foggy says, nudging Matt with his elbow.  

Matt raises his glass, and Foggy clinks them together. “Slainte. So, do you do this often?” He takes a sip.

“Meet people?”

“Bring strange men back to your apartment.”

Foggy laughs at that. “Strangers are friends we haven’t yet met. But, honestly? No. I don’t.”

Matt considers that. He, in contrast, does do this often, but usually only once or twice with the same person. Matt’s a comet, shooting in and out, plenty of noise and fuss but little substance.

“How about you,” Foggy asks.

“Me?” Matt mentally scans through all the men and women he’s dated in recent history. This may not be the moment to share that information.

“How do you make your crust?”

“Oh.” Matt leans back against the couch cushions and stretches an arm along the seat back, towards Foggy. “I’m a lawyer,” he says, mouth quirking in a slight smile, and waits for the inevitable praise. People are always impressed.

“Oh cool. I nearly did Law,” Foggy says. People often say this - it’s one of those throwaway lines. But then he adds, “I was aiming for Columbia but then… I took an intro to Astronomy class over the summer after high school and I sort of… fell into the stars.”

Matt tilts his head. “Tell me about it.”

Foggy hums, consideringly. “I’d always been interested, you know?” he says. “But I hadn’t really thought that it could be my job. I thought it would be fun to take the class, that it would be interesting. So I did.”

“Always a solid choice, choosing the interesting.”

“It was residential, close to an observatory. One morning we got up in the middle of the night, and towards dawn I saw the Orion Nebula. It’s near Orion’s Belt.  And it was so beautiful, and unknown. I wanted more. I couldn’t stop thinking of what else must be out there. 

“I mean, we do know a lot now, especially when a probe like Juno fires back information, but also a lot of it we can’t exactly know. No one knows what it’s like to stand on the surface of Eros, not really. Or what the Helix Nebula looks like from the inside. We can model it, sure, but we can’t know. I was hungry to find out what I could. I was hooked.” Foggy stops, abruptly, and Matt can hear him sip his drink.

Matt is struck by the emotion in Foggy’s voice, growing with every word. “That’s a great story,” he says. “Not everyone finds their passion, or follows it.

Foggy takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “Yeah. You know, I don’t usually tell people all that, right out of the blocks.”

“I guess I should feel honoured,” Matt says.

“You should, my friend,” Foggy says, the humour back in his voice.

Matt angles his head towards the telescope in the corner. “And that. Do you use it often?”

“Uh yeah, I do, actually.” Matt can hear Foggy shifting against the cushions, like he’s embarrassed again, caught out. “I mean, it’s no match for the Keck telescopes, but it still lets me look. I like looking.”

“Why don’t you show me?” Matt suggests. “I mean, if it’s a good night for it.”

Foggy holds his breath for a moment, then lets out a puff of laughter. “Sure. Why not.” 

It takes a minute to get sorted. Matt snaps out his cane, stashes the whisky bottle under his free arm and holds the glasses in that hand. Foggy is gentle, almost reverent, with the telescope as he folds up the tripod. They head out the apartment door, Foggy and telescope leading, Matt and whisky following, and up the stairwell to the roof. 

The summer air is still warm, but cooler than the oppressive heat of the day. “Over here,” Foggy says. There’s a table and a couple of chairs set up to one side, and Matt settles down to listen as Foggy fusses over the equipment.

“You do do this often.”

“Mmm. It’s nice up here. Quiet.”

Matt listens to the sound of cars rushing in the street below. It’s muffled, sure, and you can’t ever escape cars in New York City. But Foggy’s right. It is peaceful.

“What do you see?”

“There’s still some light in the sky from the sun, but Mars is close and bright. And Venus. Not that I need the telescope for them.”

“You don’t?”

“Not to find them. They’re just like bright stars. But it’s not really dark enough yet. I’ll wait a bit.” The other chair creaks as Foggy sinks into it. “Tell me about your law practice, Matt. Are you a corporate hotshot?”

“Not so much.” Matt shrugs. “It’s just me and my partner Kirsten, and our paralegal Karen. I mostly do what Kirsten says.”

“Partner?”

“Business partner,” Matt says, smiling at Foggy. “Best friend from law school.” 

“What kind of work do you do?”

“Small stuff, mostly. Tenancy disputes, work visas, that kind of thing. Most of our clients come from here in the Kitchen.”

“Sticking up for the little guy!” Foggy cries. “Show me some skin.” Matt holds up his palm and Foggy high fives him. “That’s what I wanted to do.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, like I said, it was the stars. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d learned in that in astronomy class. And I’m good at Math, so that helps. I ended up switching from Philosophy to Physics before the year started. And then I went on to get my doctorate at UC Davis. My parents were devastated when they realised I wasn’t going to drive a Bentley” he says, laughing.

Matt laughs with him. “Academia isn’t really a way to make money, is it?”

“It’s really, really not. Not like law. Mom wanted me to be a butcher but that was never going to happen, so at least I could have done something which would have made me rich. Such a disappointment.”

Matt laughs at that. “You sound like me. I’ll never be rich.”

“Your family counting on you for the bucks, too?”

Matt sobers. “Uh, not exactly.” He needs to get off this topic, now. “How far into the galaxy do you usually look?”

“The radiotelescope guys look right back in time, as far as we can look. But I kind of like our neighbourhood - our solar system. Each planet in our solar system is a whole world. Well, obviously they literally are worlds. They’re suspended, hanging in the enormous void of space. They look so serene, from Earth, as they hurtle through the endless blackness, but they’re dynamic and complex. Did you know that the Great Red Spot on Jupiter is so large that two Earths could fit side by side inside it? It’s an enormous storm that’s been raging for at least 150 years, probably much longer.”

Matt shakes his head. “I don’t know much about any of it.”

“We’re all so far from each other, and together at the same time. Once you leave our solar system it’s 25 trillion miles to the next one.”

“The next galaxy?”

“The next solar system. Our galaxy is fifty-two thousand light years across.”

Matt shakes his head. It’s too big a number to make sense.

“We’re bound by gravity to the rest of our solar system. There are so many stars and planets out beyond the Kuiper Belt,” Foggy continues, “And we’ll never be able to reach them. We can’t even see most of what we know is out there, we just have to make an educated guess at it, work it out from the clues.”

Matt half-smiles to himself, and takes a sip of his drink. “Seeing and knowing are two different things.”

“Uh, yeah, of course, I didn’t mean to--” 

Matt cuts him off with the wave of his hand. “So you took the class, and fell in love with astronomy?”

“Oh no, that happened much earlier. Growing up in the city I never saw that many stars, you know? When I was eleven I went away on summer camp to this place upstate. We stayed in these little cabins in the woods by a lake, just outside a small town. It was weird - so quiet, but sometimes you’d hear a wild animal. And at night, the stars! I didn’t know the sky could be like that. Like grains of sand scattered across a velvet blanket. I’d sneak out in the middle of the night when the sky was truly dark, and the entire sky was covered with stars. The trees were only visible as the places where the stars weren’t. 

“I discovered later that Aboriginal people in Australia, who live in the desert where obviously it’s really dark and the sky is very clear, have constellations that are the darker areas between the stars. The reverse of us who live with more light pollution. All people look up at the stars. We all wonder.”

Foggy suddenly sounds like he’s come back to himself, remembered where he was. “I’m sorry, I’m doing all the talking and this is probably really boring.”

“No,” Matt says quietly. “It’s not. I’ve never heard a description like this before. I-” He cuts himself off, unsure how to carry on without making himself sound wistful, and smiles. “I like it. I like listening to your voice.”

Foggy makes a quiet, pleased sound. “That’s a great line. I feel like I should be saying things with gravitas, or beautiful things. She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars,” he quotes.

“Now that’s pretty,” Matt says.

“It’s Neil Gaiman. And he’s right, about the stars and planets dancing, caught in each other’s gravity.”

Matt smiles. “So then, tell me,” he prompts, gesturing upwards. “What’s there to see tonight? You said Venus?”

“Let’s see.” Foggy stands and goes again to the telescope. Matt hears the quiet scrape of metal as Foggy adjusts the focus. “There’s Jupiter. It’s high and bright right now. And Venus and Mars.” 

Foggy’s quiet, and Matt considers how far away his focus is. It’s hard for Matt to have a clear impression of anything beyond the reach of his hands - when he’s not touching something it could be anywhere, just out of reach or miles away. But Foggy looks at planets thousands of miles away, places he can never touch but he knows.

“Sometimes it’s better not to use the telescope at all,” Foggy says. “The Leonids meteor shower is going to arrive in a couple of months, and that’s better observed with the naked eye.”

“What are meteor showers like?”

“Fireworks. Bright, white hot stripes painting the sky. Streaking across the heavens.”

“But no boom.” Matt places his empty glass on the small table next to the bottle, and his glasses alongside.

“Good point! And several nights in a row. I’m looking forward to it.” Foggy sounds like he’s turned back to the telescope. 

Matt stands, the whisky now making him loose-limbed and easy, and walks slowly towards Foggy. His hand is slightly extended, reaching for the tune Foggy’s humming under his breath - it’s Drops of Jupiter. He clears his throat. “And what do you see, closer to home?” His voice is low and husky.

Foggy jumps and turns and his arm bumps Matt’s hand. “Oh! Um. Well.” Matt hears him take a quick breath, as Matt brings his hand to rest on Foggy’s shoulder. “I can see at least one beautiful thing.”

“That’s very cheesy,” Matt says, sliding his hand up to Foggy’s neck, then further to cup his cheek. He fans his thumb across to Foggy’s mouth, finding a goatee, and feels Foggy lean in to match him. “But I like it,” he breathes.

Foggy makes a small noise of pleasure for the brief moment that his warm, soft lips are pressed against Matt’s own. Matt brings his other hand to Foggy’s face, sliding both hands back and finding that Foggy’s hair is pulled back into a low pony.

“I didn’t think long hair would be allowed, Professor?” Matt asks.

Foggy huffs a laugh. “It’s Doctor to you, and anything goes these days.” He rests his forehead against Matt’s. “I like you,” he says, breathless.

“Really,” Matt says, one eyebrow lifted.

“I promise I’m usually better at… Words. And things.”

“What sort of things.”

“Oh, I can totally show you. But I feel obligated at this point to tell you that my super has a CCTV camera on this rooftop, and he is probably watching us right now because that’s the kind of guy he is. So, maybe we could take this back downstairs? If I’ve wooed you enough with the stars.”

“I could stand to hear more,” Matt says. “But yes, let’s go inside, and continue the story there.” And Matt follows Foggy again, drawn along by his gravity. He wonders what happens to a comet that gets caught in a gravitational field it can’t escape, wonders if he’s going to find out.

[bibliocratic]

jm prompts you say? hmm how about martin hiding an injury and jon freaking out and fussing over him, but with a happy ending?

post-160, jonmartin,hurt/comfort and fluff in some apocalypse-blighted Scottish forest--

Martin realises that he's made a mistake in a sort of chronological tripodal structure of regret.

Primarily, it consists of the dazzling moment when Jon – striding ahead, jaw set and trying to work out where they should have started to go up-hill from the out-of-date ordinance survey map clenched in his hands – suddenly stopped with all the forewarning of a stubbed toe. Holding a hand up to signal that there might be something up ahead in the foliage. Martin, committedly focused on regular breathing and maintaining his ongoing argument with his oesophagus about whether he's going to be sick or not, didn't dodge. Bashing the whole front of his body against Jon's backpack, the arm he's kept so industriously curled up against his chest knocked hard. He thinks he might have made a bitten-off shriek. That shining testament to his mistakes was compounded by his follow-up action, which was to collapse like a felled tree, almost taking Jon down with him, paying fervent and painful homage to the undergrowth with his face.

Mostly he knows that he's really fucked up when he wakes up a few minutes later. Still lying on the ground, and apparently the tent sans-ground sheet has been abruptly set up around him like he's some sort of pop-up installation. The contents of the forest floor have made union with his now knotted hair, and it snags and tugs as he sits up. He can taste grit and dirt in his mouth and there's a stinging dampness on his upper lip. He blinks, coming to terms slowly, and it's then that he realises, just from a brief glance, that Jon is absolutely fuming.

The backpack has been upended without much dignity, its innards rifled through viciously, a platoon of bandages and medicines hastily assembled and called to order off to one side. Jon is hunched, squatted over the spoilers of his ravagings, his fingers gripping two packets of co-codamol that they snaffled from a gutted Lloyds pharmacy near Glasgow, looking for all the world like he's trying to read their instructions like rune-stones.

“J'n?” Martin mumbles blearily, and Jon looks over with all the focus of sunlight caught in glass. Once he's apparently satisfied that Martin isn't in any immediate danger, his glower returns like a storm front.

He should have told him, Martin knows. He should have, he should have. It had been so fast, and it had hurt but it had been manageable and they'd escaped so quickly, he would have told him eventually, he would have.

“Jon, will you,” he says, struggling to stand and failing rather dramatically at it. His apologies form a queue in his throat. “Will you just, Jon, come over here...”

Jon makes a harsh cutting gesture that rather obviously means shut up. He makes it again when Martin makes a token protest, and then – watching Martin's strenuous attempts to rise – forms another gesture and very clearly mouths the word sit.

Jon doesn't talk much these days. Not after Jonah Magnus stole his words from his throat. He avoids anything that might be read as an instruction, a command, a question, which exhaustively limits most of his conversation. He doesn't need to say anything now, not at the moment because usefully he's being really fucking obvious. Stony-faced and cloaked in the miasma of his prickling temper.

Martin flinches when Jon slams something. Jon stops immediately, has the decency to look shamefaced, if mulish, cooling his gestures into perfunctory and quiet actions that can't be read as threatening. He's letting his upset out like a bled radiator and Martin doesn't know what to do.

He passes Martin a water bottle and two small oval tablets expectantly, but quickly realises his own stupidity and takes them back with a frustrated huff. Finally, finally, Jon stops pacing, stops moving, going to his knees and edging closer to where Martin's sitting to help him take the medicine. His rough dry-skinned hand set like a brace at Martin's neck as he carefully tips the water back against his lips for Martin to drink. After he's swallowed, his hand lingers, and after Martin's sheepish thank you, it tentatively moves to thread into the outgrowth of hair at the nape of his neck.

“I'm sorry,” Martin says miserably, his arm now transitioning from smarting to a rather concerted throbbing, and he means it. “I – we needed to keep walking, and there was nowhere safe to stop yet and I know it was – I know I should have....”

Jon's hand has a tremor like a trapped nerve. Martin angles his head to look up at him, and there's messy tracks in the grubby dirt on his cheeks.

“I'm sorry,” Martin repeats, and Jon's head makes port against his own for a second.

“I thought...” comes a raspy, scraping voice, and Jon moves back to study him with wet eyes, and his face twisted in something pained. “I didn't know....”

He doesn't finish the sentence. He sucks in a steadying breathe that doesn't really help before he motions with his hand at the materials he's assembled like a medicinal hunter-gatherer. Martin understands exactly what he's not saying.

“We can't just leave it?” Martin asks, already knowing the answer with dread making a kernel in his stomach. Jon presses his lips tight and shakes his head and looks as though he'd rather do anything else but this.

To his credit, Jon's as professional and mercifully quick as can be expected. He cuts Martin's now swollen, bruise-bright arm out of his sleeve, padding the feverish skin with wadding and gauze without jostling it. He looks right at Martin and exaggeratedly demonstrates that it might be a good idea for Martin to copy his breathing, a deep in-and-out that Martin shakily joins in harmony with. Jon squeezes the unencumbered hand that's curling into a claw against Martin's upper thigh before letting go.

Martin's breathing staggers and slips over into ragged whimpering cry when Jon sets the splint snugly against the injured bone, tries to bury his wet, gasping face into Jon's neck as the stick is tied in place with shoelaces and strips of ripped-up t-shirt at the elbow and wrist. Jon is shushing him, running his hands up and down his back once it's done, his voice plugged up with apologises and despairing, Martin sniffling and hiccuping through the after-shocks.

Martin begins to get drowsy after that, the codeine clearly sneaking into his system and blanketing him in a blissful muted haze, like someone's turned the sound down on the world. Jon takes his meek acceptance of further care as permission to fuss, and briskly rises to the occasion. He brushes out the leaves and small sticks from Martin's hair with a precise and focused intensity until the tangles meet with his internal satisfaction. Soaks a wash-cloth with the dregs of water from the bottle, cleaning away the dirt and small spots of blood from the minor scratches on Martin's face. A measured, stroking left-right motion that leaves Martin blinking heavily, content to half-mindedly watch a host of flickering expressions cross the pathways of Jon's face.

When Jon's done, he looks solemnly over his handiwork like he's overseeing some great project, sealing the act with a dry kiss against Martin's cheek.

“C'mere,” Martin slurs dozily, and Jon enfolds against him like two seas merging, careful not to knock his arm. The ground beneath them is chill, will turn frosty as it dips into nightfall, and they can't stay here, they've got miles to go before the nearest town, they're fast losing light.

Martin tries to say this, or he thinks he does, but Jon shushes him again and kisses the space between left eyebrow and hairline, over the cuts on his cheek that have long stopped smarting.

Jon doesn't tell him to rest. To close his eyes. Jon doesn't tell him to do anything any more, doesn't trust himself with it. But his body is still knelt down as a bedrock, and Martin thinks he might be rocking them both ever so faintly, his fingers trailing ouroboros maps into the weft of his newly combed hair. Martin takes it as permission enough.  

[marvelous-writer]

Revenge With A Side Of Avenging

Summary: In which Peter is kidnapped and wakes up tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, struggling to remember exactly how he got there.

Word Count: 2,207

Genre: whump, emotional hurt/comfort

Link to read on AO3

A/N: Day one of @whumptober2020

The first thing Peter registers is pain, a horrible pounding at the back of his head, radiating to his eyes and all the way down his neck. It feels almost as if the throbbing is in sync with his heartbeat.

Peter lets out a groan as he goes to reach up to touch his head, but he finds that he’s unable to lift his arms. He opens his heavy eyes, blinking away the stubborn blurriness he’s met with, only to find that he’s wrapped in thick rope, bound to an extremely uncomfortable chair.

That doesn’t make any sense... how did he get wrapped up in rope?

He sluggishly blinks as he lifts his head, only managing to limply roll it on his shoulder. He’s in a large dark space, the only amount of light coming from the small windows surrounding the place. There are a few stacked boxes surrounding him, looking a little like a warehouse of sorts.

What’s he doing in a warehouse?

The last memory he can recall is walking off stage with the decathlon team after they won the final round against Cal Tech... and that journalist walking up to him and wanting to ask a few questions on their win... but something ended up hitting Peter on the back of his head when they stepped out in the hallway.

Oh, right—the reporter knocked him out.

But why would someone knock out and kidnap a high schooler from a decathlon competition, of all places? Unless it has something to do with Tony or knowing that Peter is Spider-Man.

That’s not good. Peter distantly thinks, panic freely flowing through him at the sudden realization.

May and Tony were both in the audience, so they have to know he’s missing by now, right? They have to. They were going to go to that new Italian place down the street from the Tower after the competition. Peter wanted to get some cannoli for dessert, too.

Mmh... cannoli, stuffed with chocolate and vanilla, topped with deliciously fluffy whipped cream.

No no no. He can’t be thinking about food at a time like this. He has to focus on getting out of this place, wherever the heck he is.

Peter closes his eyes, trying to listen for any sounds that could give him a clue as to where he is, but he’s met with an unsettling silence. He can’t smell any traces of salt in the air, so he can’t be near the Hudson. So... maybe he’s someplace upstate? Hopefully that means the team will be able to find him faster.

Maybe he could try to get out of these ropes? Surely whoever took him would have used something a lot stronger than rope if they knew he’s Spider-Man. So maybe they didn’t know that little detail.

Peter weakly pulls at the ropes, wincing as they painfully dig into his arms. This isn’t right. He should be able to break out of these easily. Either he got hit on the head way harder than he thought... or they drugged him. That would explain why he can’t think straight at the moment.

Peter drops his head forward in defeat as he lets his impossibly heavy eyes slip shut—he’s so tired.

Tony will find him. He’s probably out there right now with the team looking for him, and May—she’s probably at home, freaking out about where Peter is. They have to know he’s missing.

For now, maybe Peter can get a little more sleep since it looks like he’s not going anywhere. Maybe all his super-metabolism needs is a little jumpstart to get rid of whatever sleepy drug he was injected with.

Tony’s coming. Peter hazily thinks to himself, feeling the last remains of consciousness slipping away from him.

It’s the last thought he has before darkness consumes him.

….

Awareness comes back to Peter all at once, as well as a painful stinging on his face from someone slapping him. He opens his eyes with a gasp as all of his senses come back on all at once, lights and sounds attacking him from every angle. He slams his eyes shut with a pained groan, letting his chin drop to his chest.

“Ah, welcome to the land of the living, Mr. Parker.”

Peter jumps at the sudden voice, as much as the ropes around him will allow. He weakly lifts his head, squinting against the harsh LED lighting, suddenly realizing that there are way more lights than there were before he passed out. There are at least three tripod work lights surrounding him, all facing him.

“Well aren’t you going to say hello to our captivated audience?”

A figure moves out of the darkness to stand in front of one of the lights, blocking a little bit of the light, but not allowing Peter to get a good look at them. The figure gestures to something to his right, and that’s when Peter sees it—a video camera hooked up to a tripod.

This can’t be good.

Peter licks his dry lips. “W-Where am I? Who are you?” He asks, hating how raspy his voice comes out.

The figure laughs. “So many questions and so little answers. I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Peter.”

A cold shiver races down his spine hearing his name. The figure steps away from the light, their shoes clicking against the concrete floors and echoing throughout the space.

“Why did you take me?” Peter asks.

“One word,” The voice says close to his left, causing Peter to flinch. “Revenge.”

Revenge? Peter thinks. Revenge against who? Spider-Man?

The figure’s shoes click against the floor again as they slowly approach Peter, until they’re standing in front of him, blocking the light from him. Peter looks up into the face of his captor, only to see a somewhat familiar face. The man is short, unruly brown hair with glasses perched on his nose. Peter’s seen this man somewhere before… but he just can’t remember who he is.

“I’ve been keeping my eye on you for awhile now, Peter. You’re smart—you won your Decathlon team a slot into the finals. I was very impressed at you hitting that buzzer and answering correctly every time. You’re the top of all your classes, with one of the highest GPAs in your entire school as a sophomore. I can see why Stark hired you to be his personal intern.” The man tells him, flashing a pearly white smile. “But let me tell you one thing about Tony Stark. When he finds interest in something, he’ll play with it for a while… boast and brag about it, until he gets bored with it and throws it away.”

So this guy’s clearly out to get Tony. Tony’s made a lot of enemies in the past, so there’s no telling what this guy’s problem is. Judging by the guy’s expensive looking suit and tie apparel, this guy seems like he means business. And not the good kind.

“For years, I’ve spent my life trying to get back what I lost. My career, my reputation, but it’s too late. Stark ruined me! He took everything from me!” The man suddenly yells, causing Peter to violently flinch as his voice booms off the walls. The man turns away from Peter and walks back to the camera, grabbing it and something off of a nearby table before walking back to him. He stops next to Peter and holds the camera out with both of them in frame, probably live recording. “You took everything from me Stark… so now I’m going to take everything from you.”

The sudden press of cold metal against the side of Peter’s head has him freezing, the air caught in his throat. He’s been in this position far too many times by now to know it’s a gun—but it’s somehow more scary this time around.

“I’m giving you until midnight, Stark. I want you to meet me at the Cold Storage Facility in Albany—just you, none of your fancy suits, no Avengers and no police. If you fail to meet my demands, the kid gets it.” The man says into the camera before abruptly turning it off. He turns to Peter, pressing the gun further against his temple. “And if you try anything funny, I’ll shoot you.”

When the gun drops from his head, Peter lets out a shaky breath, keeping his eyes on the man as he goes back to the table across the room, tossing the camera on it.

“What do you want from Mr. Stark?” Peter asks.

“I just want to have a little chat with him face-to-face,” The man answers with a grin as he grabs something off the table and walks back to him. “I’ll have him right where I want him—alone, weaponless, desperate, and completely vulnerable.”

It’s a trap. Peter knows Tony would do anything for him but he’s not stupid like this guy think he is. The team will be waiting nearby for the right time to strike and take this nut-job down.

The man bends down next to Peter and puts something underneath the chair he’s tied to, flipping something with a faint beep.

A bomb.

There’s an actual bomb underneath him that could go off at any second.

The man stands up and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small roll of duct tape. “Just so you don’t ruin all the fun.” He says with a grin before he rips a piece off and shoves it on Peter’s mouth despite his weak protests. “You have approximately three hours until this bomb detonates, unless I come back and turn it off. So you better hope the next person who comes in here is me, or else it’s curtains for you.”

The man bends down and grabs a thin string, which is probably attached to the device, and walks across the space to an open door and ties it to the knob. Without another word, he slips outside and closes the door behind himself.

The warehouse is engulfed in a tense silence, the only sound being from the ticking bomb underneath Peter, taunting him with the very real and terrifying threat of going off at any second from just the slightest tug of that string of someone were to fully open the door.

…

Peter doesn’t know how long he sits there, listening to the sound of the ticking, trying to carefully wiggle his way out of the ropes. He can feel them going a little slack around him until he hears a noise outside. Peter freezes, tear-filled eyes widening as he stares at the door the sting is attached to. There’s another noise, sounding almost like someone walking on gravel.

“...has to be here. Sam, Clint, on my mark…” A familiar voice says from outside the door.

It’s Steve.

Before Peter has a chance to feel any kind of relief, fear shoots through him when he sees the door handle begin to twist.

“MMMH! MMMH!” Peter tries to yell around the tape.

When the door suddenly swings open, Peter’s stomach drops when he hears the string snap off and the bomb lets out a shrill chorus of beeps. He sees Clint run inside with Steve right behind him and before Peter registers what’s happening, Clint grabs him and throws them away, just as Steve drops his shield on top of the bomb, taking the brunt of the explosion.

Peter’s ears are ringing horribly as he lies on the ground, distantly aware of the hands on him, untying him from the chair. He opens his eyes as someone helps him sit up and carefully take the tape off his mouth, only to see Steve kneeling in front of him.

“S-Steve? T-Tony—he...he’s going to—”

“I know. We caught the guy that did this to you. Tony’s safe. He’s back at the compound.” Steve tells him in a gentle voice, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Relief crashes into Peter like a tidal wave, flowing through every vein in his body. He closes his eyes as more tears spill out and throws himself at Steve, wrapping his arms around the soldier as a sob escapes from his lips.

Steve wraps his arms around him in return, rubbing a hand up and down Peter’s quivering back. “You’re alright, Peter. You’re safe now… you’re safe.”

…

It’s dark outside when Peter walks down the Quinjet’s ramp with Steve close at his side, stepping on the landing pad at the compound. Peter hasn’t been able to stop shaking since they took off in the jet, making it a little difficult to walk with how wobbly his legs are.

Peter looks up from the ground and his eyes settle on Tony, who’s already jogging over to meet them. Before he knows it, arms are wrapping around him, the familiar and calming scent of motor oil and cologne meeting his nose.

Tony.

A sob escapes Peter’s lips as he clutches the back of Tony’s shirt in his hands, feeling a hand at the back of his head. “T-Tony…” Peter cries.

Tony only hugs him tighter, his chin resting at the top of Peter’s head. “I’m right here, kiddo. You’re safe… I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

[x-ratedkpop]

Picture Perfect [Kim Jongin]

➳ Sugar Daddy!AU || Model!AU || Photographer!AU ➳ Scenario || Smut || Rated: M ➳ Pairing: Kim Jongin x Reader ➳ Summary: As an aspiring photographer, you become the sugar baby to the Adonis model, Kim Jongin. ➳ Word Count: 2.3k ➳ Warnings: daddy kink, erotic photography, masturbation, unprotected sex ➳ requested

The camera snaps, flash illuminating his golden skin in a delicious warm tone as the low bass music echoes around the room. The book in his hands interests him more than the quiet buzzing of staff from behind the veil of darkness, eyes flitting across the words before he changes the pages. Another click, another flash. Jongin turns his eyes towards the camera, rolling onto his side and showing off his toned body; his eyes stare straight into the camera, right into your eyes on the other side of the lens.

A shiver runs down your spine because you know what this look entails.

The sheets tangle with his body, pillows cradling his head as you find the perfect angle – the perfect shot; but you know that these photos will never do him justice, never truly capture the beauty of Jongin exactly. He’s like the moon shining on a clear night sky, you can take a photo but it’s only an image of the magnificent sight before you. Click, Jongin arches his back, moving position and parting his plump lips as he watches you work. Click, the book covers the bottom half of his face, almond-shaped eyes dancing with the thoughts that run in his head as you changed the tone of the lighting.

He made a good choice getting you this job, giving you the opportunity to do what you loved and he got the added perk of watching you work – being the object that you capture.

There’s a call for a break, the lights being turned on and you take a moment to let your sight adjust to the intrusion of brightness that overtakes the room. You let out the deep breath that you didn’t realise you were holding while you watch Jongin sit up and smile at you; stylists and make-up artists rush to his side, all eager to touch up his appearance but Jongin waves a hand dismissively, not caring about his messy hair or how his nose might be too shiny. He wants to congratulate you, tell you he’s proud of you because he’s never been so enamoured by someone until he saw you at work.

Ignoring those around him, Jongin gently grips your chin between his fingers and brings your gaze to his. “Do you know how proud Daddy is of you, baby girl?” You blush, cheeks heating up as he speaks so casually, without fear of those around you. “What? Can I not tell my baby how happy she made me, letting me watch her work and having her in control?”

“Bu-but,” your eyes move to the stylist watching the interaction from her seat, “people are staring.” Jongin shrugs, moving his hand to caress your cheek; you instinctively turn your face into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily and feeling safer. You compose yourself, eyes shining brightly as a warm smile spreads over your lips, “thank you Daddy, I have everything I’ve ever wanted because you are so good to me.”

He loves hearing you say those words, the way your lips look when you say them captivates him, the way you sigh it, moan it – you seriously have no clue about the effect you have over him. You’ve had Jongin wrapped around your little finger from the moment he saw you, the relationship being nothing more than a mutual partnership in the beginning but over the years, it deepened to something close to what Jongin would call love.

You were fresh out of college and struggling to pay off student loans, working as an assistant at one of Jongin’s photoshoots and he took to you like a moth to a flame. He needed someone to take to the Gucci cruise that year and offered to pay you for your assistance; you were reluctant at first, Jongin was not only seven years your senior, Gucci’s ambassador and a national treasure but he was also an Adonis. Nearing thirty didn’t take away any ounce of the sex appeal that Jongin held in his youth, it added to it; he had women of all ages vying for his attention and there he was, asking you to be his date.

Though, one date turned to three and next thing you knew, Jongin had paid off your student loans and taken you around the world.

“Be a good girl for Daddy,” he whispers in your ear, smirk playing on his lips as he thinks about new things to try in the bedroom, “and bring your camera home tonight. Don’t leave it at the office, I want us to have some fun with it.” Your eyes widen, Jongin winking before heading towards the changing room as the director calls for the final set.

Ideas run through your mind as to what Jongin could possibly want to do tonight and you find yourself getting excited by what you come up with.

A private photoshoot.

The words sound so sinful as they fall off his lips; Jongin smirks at the idea, pleased with himself as he sees your stunned expression. He wants to reward you for your hard work today, he wants you to capture him in ways that only your eyes can see and most of all, Jongin wants to snap shots of you two doing the naughty things that he was imaging while lying on that bed this afternoon.

“Daddy,” you lick you lips, unable to look away as Jongin undresses, “what if I lose them? I don’t want someone else seeing you like this.” You pout, unpacking your gear and getting set up regardless.

His body is sculpted to perfection, his proportions make anyone envious. His thick brown locks messily falling in his chocolate brown eyes, strong nose, plump lips and a sharp jawline makes you wonder if Jongin was created by Gods. He’s proud of his body, keeping himself fit but not bulky gives Jongin a lean figure, golden skin pulled taut over toned muscles; long legs with strong thighs, a cute, tight ass and you swallow thickly as your eyes fall onto his cock.

Jongin isn’t overly long, you would think that he was just over average but his girth and how he used his hips makes sex with him an experience every single time. The head is a pretty pink, matching the shade of his lips and a pearl of precum leaks from the slit; you feel your mouth water, normally Jongin would have you kneel before him, sucking him before he returns the favour but tonight, he has something else in mind.

“You’re in charge,” he watches you check the lighting, making sure you’ll have the right exposure and that the flash isn’t too bright.

You nod, pointing to the bed and instructing Jongin to lie down, “stroke yourself for me, please Daddy.” Even though he tells you to be in charge, you know that Jongin truly runs the show tonight but you’ll do anything to make him happy.

With cock in hand, Jongin begins to stroke himself slowly, getting into character and feeling the rush of excitement in his veins as you move a little closer. You snap a few close ups, his eyes fluttering closed with lashes splayed on his cheeks, parted lips with pearly white teeth showing, his two moles and tense stomach and finally, his hand stroking his firm cock; the shutter of the lens, the thought of you staring at these when he’s away on long shoots and hearing nothing other than your movements make Jongin shiver.

His sugar babies haven’t lasted long in the past but you, you’re one he intends to keep. So obedient, so beautiful, you are perfect in ways Jongin can’t even begin to explain but this confirms that he doesn’t want to let his baby girl go.

He can spoil you, give you the nicest of everything you ever ask for and take you on around the world but you’ve never once faked it for him. You’ll do anything he asks, not out of obligation but because you truly feel something for him; something you can’t say aloud but Jongin knows it because he feels it too.

You feel the heat in your loins as Jongin’s breathing grows heavier, his orgasm approaching as you continue your private shoot. You whine, lowering your camera as you rub your thighs together for friction, suddenly upset that your Daddy is paying more attention to his own desire rather than you. “Play with me~” You catch his attention and get the exact look you want.

His eyes are dark, hooded and wanting as he stops what he’s doing to sit up and indicate for you to go over to him. You quickly place the camera on the tripod, grabbing the wireless remote and rushing to stand between his spread legs that are now hanging over the side of the bed. “You want Daddy to play with you, princess?” His voice is husky, thick with desire as large hands rest on your waist. “Did you feel a little left out?” You pout, nodding your head and the image of you causes Jongin to groan.

He slowly begins to undress you, taking care in placing your clothes neatly beside him before removing the next item. He takes a moment to admire you in the lingerie that he chose for you this morning, the lacy pink set matching the cute pout still prominent on your lips; he pulls you closer, kissing the top of your breasts before kissing your lips. You straddle his hips, Jongin gently prying the shutter remote from your hands as you tightly wind your legs and arms around him.

You grind on him, feeling him so close to where you want him but frustratingly separated by the thin material of your panties. Heated kisses, tongues dancing as hands touch every inch of uncovered skin; Jongin makes your temperature rise to the point that the warm air around you is cool on your sensitive skin.

He wants to indulge in you, suffering through a day of not touching you to keep up professional appearances is something Jongin isn’t used to; he’s always been able to kiss you, touch you, be however he wants with you in public but he got you this job, he knew how much you wanted this opportunity even if he could provide you with a comfortable life and he wasn’t going to risk it.

His fingers glide down your ribs, over your hips and between your thighs, rubbing against your clothed clit; you moan, rolling your head back and letting Jongin suckle upon the unblemished skin of your neck. “Daddy,” he feels the words against his lips as they leave your throat, “I want you inside me.” With little effort, Jongin rips your panties and chuckles as you startle from the way the material is torn from your body.

“Don’t worry,” he gazes down at your exposed sex, eager to welcome him as he lines his cock up with your entrance, “I’ll buy you another set tomorrow, a treat for my baby girl.”

You sigh, the stretch feeling so good after such a busy, stressful day. “You spoil me, Daddy. You are so good to me, I’m so lucky to have you.” He groans, controlling your hips and keeping a steady pace as his lips reattach to your skin, littering you with pink marks and relishing in how well you take him. No matter how much he fucks you, no matter how soft or rough he can be, you always take him perfectly.

Being so close to his release earlier, Jongin knows he’s not going to last long so he thumbs your clit, focusing more on your pleasure rather than the speed. You writhe against him, the word daddy falling off your bitten lips like a sweet mantra as you feel the pressure build inside you; his breath hot against your skin, hair tickling your cheeks as you rest your head on his shoulder and whine as it gets closer.

“Say my name, baby girl,” you whimper it softly, your hips moving on their own as you desperately race for release, “no, say Daddy’s real name.”

You would be shocked by his request if you weren’t so focused on your orgasm. “Please, Jongin, let me cum.” You beg, enjoying the growl that rumbles through his chest as his hands hold your hips tightly and he begins to fuck you the way you enjoy.

Mercilessly.

As much as you love it when Jongin pampers you, how he shows his affection for you through small gifts and actions, you love when he fucks you so hard that it leaves you bruised, the feel of him imprinted on your skin for days to come.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips stuttering as he cums, holding your hips down and feeling your walls milk him dry as you whisper his name repeatedly.

Looking up at your blissed-out face, Jongin feels around for the remote and the sound of the shutter causes your eyes to open slowly; he’s always wanted to be on the other end, taking your picture and admiring your beauty through the lens and now he can. He slides out slowly before helping you rest on the large, soft pillows; he moves you into the position he wants before heading for the camera, your eyes glazed over but watching.

One arm is stretched out, head surrounded by pillows while the other arm is resting over your breasts; one of your legs is tucked over the other and your eyes are trained on Jongin. He snaps a photo, looking at it with a smile before lifting the camera to his eyes once more; he tries different angles, instructing you to look at him the whole time and he loves every moment.

“Perfect,” he whispers to himself proudly, looking through them with a satisfied grin, “so fucking perfect.”