#i should stop drawing him just to not make high expectations for his design in movie itself

[anessthetic]

cw: blood

.

i’ve peaked a comedy

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Tell Me You Believe Me

Summary: The path through proves to be more tangled in assumptions and righteous pride than either imagined. Neither wants to walk away, but belief has been challenged, and trust weakened by rumors. One wrong turn, one misplaced comment, and they will never find their way back home… back to each other.

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Angst; Some fluff; Language; Mentions of sex work(nothing graphic); Canon divergence; Descriptions of high emotional distress; Possible triggers

Betas: @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Word Count: 4,667

Author’s Note: This part also took a little inspiration from the song Redemption by The Strange Familiar.

Part Three

A stab of terror pierces her heart, and a wave of bile churns in her gut. “Dean, wait…,” she screams, but no sound passes her lips, “please don’t walk out on me again,” strangled by the clutch of emotion. She stumbles, blindly reaching for him, tears streaking down her face. Entire body trembling, she grasps the back of the couch, nerve endings raw and alight, flesh beaded with sweat.

He makes it to the end of the porch before his knees finally give, and he has to lean against the pillar to stay upright. “Fuck!” he shouts into the darkness, but the word barely comes out in a whisper, chest tight with fear. This can’t be the way their story ends.

His throat convulses in an attempt to keep the acridness from his stomach from rising any further. Sharp short breaths, lungs aching, feeling brittle with the effort. Hot tears evaporate in the cold wind, skin itching beneath the crusty trail left behind. Unable to will his body to stop shaking, a shrill buzz in his ears greying out all thought. 

Flesh splitting with the force of the first punch to the cabin’s wall, he rears back and strikes again… and again, lungs raggedly swelling as he’s finally able to draw in deep angry breaths. With one final blow, he steps back. Fingers flexing against the pain, he flicks his hand to dispel some of the blood before wiping his knuckles against a jean-clad thigh. 

She’s right. He did this. He tore their lives apart, and evidently, for no good reason. The ever-present danger of supernatural beings still seeking her out, and he’d left her without backup. The life she’s currently living, while seemingly luxurious, is almost as dangerous. 

Fuck. FUCK!

Scrubbing his uninjured hand down his face, he filters through their conversation, trying to unscramble his thoughts and calm himself.

‘I didn’t want to leave.’ ‘I certainly wasn’t happier without you.’ ‘I’m not doing what you think I am.’ 

If she’s not doing that, then what the hell is she doing? 

All he wanted was a chance to talk. See if she was doing okay. Yet, he managed to screw that up too, but then he’s not surprised. Eventually, he taints everything good that enters his orbit. “Son of a BITCH!” This time, the punch is to the air, head thrown back, teeth grinding as he scowls at the starry sky. “Just once… one good thing. Is it really too much to have?” Of course, he doesn’t expect a response. There never is. 

With the next hit, he leaves his fist pressed against the rough facade, the cool wood helping to soothe the throbbing ache of his battered hand. Hanging his head, he wrestles with the instinct to shove all the emotions back down and squirrel them away in their designated compartments. He needs to feel them, let the happiness and joy she shared with him rise to the surface, and dilute the misery and rage.

They were happy. As happy as they could be with the brutalities that plagued their lives. Eyes closed, he inhales sharply through his nose, fighting his insecurities with thoughts of better times. Time spent at the lake, conversations about their life once they got out, the scrunch of her brow as she worked on a piece, her smile, the way she snuggled into him, ear pressed over his heart as she fell asleep. Those are the things he should be fighting for.

Lost in the desolate silence, the image of the enraged and devastated woman that he walked out on, again, skewers his vision. In the space of a heartbeat, his chest tightens then swells. She said she loves him, present tense. Maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for him yet. “That’s it.” Leaning into the pain, he pushes off the wall. “I’m not walking away this time.”

He knows he has a lot to atone for. Even though it goes against everything he believes about relationships and the hunting life and that all that has happened supports his reasoning, he still wants a second chance. A chance at redemption—if she allows him to have it.

Even if she doesn’t, they have to push through and find a resolution. Maybe even absolution. He won’t let her continue to be weighed down by the carnage he created. With a heavy sigh, he turns to face the door and takes the first step toward what will either be his eternal damnation or blessed salvation.

A deck of cards tossed into a hurricane. Emotions carried on the wind, drowned in the waves only to be lifted from the depths to be flung and shredded, scattered in the wake of devastation. There’s no sorting or shuffling them into a neat stack—no winning hand. Instead of calmly dealing with the situation and finding a way to forgiveness, she threw everything at him like a game of 52-card pick-up. Anger had never served her well before, and it may just be her end this time if she can’t get it back under control.

He finds her bent over, hands clutching the back of the couch, toes of her boots tear-stained. He didn’t think there was anything left of his heart to break, but then a low continuous whine reaches his ears, and her name is agonizingly wrenched from his chest.

She takes a stumbling step, “D- Dean?”

The visible trembling of her body crushes the last of his uncertainty, and he rushes forward. “I’m here.” Reaching for her, he deplores, “I’m here. I’m not leaving. I’m not walking away this time.” 

The punch to his chest is a jolt, “You kic- kicked me out of our home.” the slap to his cheek stings. He doesn’t move to stop her, taking every blow she lands just like he told himself he would when he returned to the bunker all those months ago, hoping to find her still there. When she angrily cries, “Called me a liability,” raw emotion threatens to choke him.  

Snatching her hands as she shoves him, he holds them against his chest and laments, “I didn’t mean anything I said that night. Not a goddamn word.”

A hitch of breath, body wedging closer, fingers twisting, pulling the fabric of his shirt taut across his shoulders, then the almost inaudible “I did” slices through him like a Hellhound’s claws.

“Son of a b-“ Body shaking with a new surge of emotion, tears precariously clinging to his lashes spill over to drip down his face. Holding her, the phantom ache in his arms dissipates, and the persistent tension in his chest eases. 

She sucks in a ragged breath, hands pushing at him, and he loosens his hold. The sadness in her eyes is painful, disconcerting, almost unbearable. “W- why’d you come back?”

Moving to brush the tears from her cheek, she flinches away, eyes narrowing. Before he can answer, she grabs his hand with a shake of her head.

“You’re bleeding.”

Fucking idiot. Why does he do this to himself?

“It’s nothing.” He doesn’t care about the painful swelling. He just wants to fix them. He’ll fix his hand later. But his dismissal is ignored.

“Let’s get this taken care of.” She pulls him along behind her as she heads to the bathroom, frustrated that he chose violence to himself to deal with the situation, but a sense of delight blooms with the thought that this is a wound she can fix. Stitching his tattered flesh will be easy as pie compared to mending the fragmented pieces of their relationship. Removing the first aid kit and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from beneath the sink, she orders, “Sit on the toilet, hand over the sink.”

Dean flips the toilet lid down before doing as instructed. A deep breath seemingly calms her, but her first touch is almost timid, and he wonders what’s going through her head. The last couple of hours has been an overload of emotions for both of them. He’d bet Baby that she’s upset with him about the state of his hand and how it got that way. Still, the warmth of her skin pressed against his softens the edges of residual anxiety, kindling the possibility that they can get back on track with a calmer discussion—that they’ll figure it out… together.

The strong, steady pulse beneath her fingertips would typically have a soothing effect on her but only serves to remind her of better days—days that seem like a lifetime ago. A life that he impulsively tossed aside. A life they foolishly let wither away amidst guilt and uncertainty. This can’t be how it all ends. 

No. Together they can figure this out. There’s a chance to salvage their relationship. Until she screwed it up, they were talking, peeling back the layers of regret and despair that dulled the brightness of their devotion.

The love is still there, expressed in the recounting of a memory, comfort taken in a hug, small gestures of kindness, a familiar smile. Even if it’s dimmed, currently buried in the rubble of today’s destruction, it’s there. Reminders of the happiness they should be fighting for, and they were happy, even amidst the horror of what being hunters entails. Maybe they can be again… once they find that sliver of light to guide their way. 

First, a little triage is in order.

“You decided to pick a fight with a log.” She’s all too familiar with his coping mechanisms. There are reasons he likes the punchy part of hunting. The shrug and tilt of his head confirm her statement. “You know they call it hardwood for a reason.” Glaring at him, “Don’t,” to immediately forestall the joke hovering behind the cheeky grin and wiggle of eyebrows.

“What?”  

Clicking her tongue at his not-so-innocent smile, she returns her attention to his hand. Not sure whether to laugh at the endearing man and how well she knows him or to cry over how much she’s missed his playful banter. “So predictable,” she mutters, shaking her head.  

“Predictably adorable?” he teases, the beginning of a chuckle quickly turning to a shocked grunt as she roughly tugs his hand beneath the stream of water. Remembering how gentle and careful she used to be when tending to his wounds, he studies her, debating whether her roughness is due to remaining anger or apprehension of not having done this in a while. At least he’s assuming it’s been a while since she’s had to attend to any type of flesh wound for someone. 

Despite the surge of optimism only moments ago, the dregs of the bitter, emotional cocktail she’s been served today muddle in her thoughts, and she’s a little harsher with her ministrations to his injury. Prodding at the open wounds, a sharp huff of breath wafts through the ends of her hair. Jaw clenching, his pulse spikes under her touch as she bends his wrist and vigorously wiggles each of his fingers.

“Nothing appears broken. You’re going to need some stitches, though. Grab me one of the cloths over there, please.” She points to the rack of towels across from him. As he reaches for a hand towel, she pours a stream of alcohol over the torn flesh. 

“HEY!” Her grip on his wrist tightens when he tries to jerk it away. “A warning would have been nice,” he scowls.

“Would it have made it hurt any less?” Biting back the unexpected satisfaction of causing him pain, she tucks her chin and focuses on gently patting the area dry, wondering if the pain of a shattered heart hurts any less when you see the blow coming.

He could swear there was a little upturn of her lips, like she was taking pleasure in hurting him. She had always apologized for the slightest sting, wincing emphatically with each jolt of pain, but that was before. 

The heat he radiates feels like it’s branding her skin. With the wounds cleaned and disinfected, she unceremoniously drops his hand. Sorting through the kit, she finds the suture needle and thread. “Been a while since I’ve done this,” she absently muses while threading the needle.

“You were always the best out of the three of us. I trust ya.” The needle is jabbed into his flesh, and he grunts, “Fuck.”

“Stop being such a baby.” The little jolt of pleasure at his discomfort makes her wonder if she had too good of an example to follow in regard to suppressing her emotions, and they are now finding another conduit of expression.

This time he knows he’s not imagining the slight curl of her lips. With steady hands, she makes quick work of the tiny stitches, which further implies that she’s intentionally trying to induce pain and not nervous about the task. The needle harshly pierces his skin again, and he clamps his mouth shut on any comments.

After trimming the last suture, she begins to deftly wrap his hand. “Been practicing?” he asks curiously. She’d always struggled to get the bandages tight enough to stay in place with hand wounds.

“One of my clients was a boxer. I asked him to show me how he taped his hands.” Remaining focused on her task, she can only imagine the look on his face but is confident of his thoughts. He gives a noncommittal grunt, and she needlessly yanks the gauze tighter before forcefully taping the end in place.

“Never took you for a sadist,” he states. He knows it’s an exaggeration but protectively cradles his injured hand against his chest nonetheless.

“No, just a whore.” 

OH! There it is. 

The enraged accusation permeates the air of the tiny space they’re sharing, making it difficult to breathe. Decidedly, she’s not quite ready to let that go.  Tossing the remainder of the gauze roll and tape back into the kit, she flees the room.

Cursing under his breath, he scrambles to follow, “Y/N-” catching up with her in the living room.

Rounding on him, tears once again threatening to break free, she cries,  “Do you truly believe-”

He quickly cuts her off. “Just tell me what you are doing.”

“Art,” she yells, “you jackass!” and huffs through a momentary hesitation. Indignation at his assumption still resonating, but the long-held desire to share her good fortune with him has the words spilling from her in a rush. 

“I had some mixed media pieces in a boutique. Cooper bought one for his wife. She loved it so much that they contacted me through the owner and commissioned me to paint a mural in their nursery. When they found out I was living out of a motel, they offered to let me move into their home while I was working on the piece. They had a party one night and showed some of their guests.”

Her voice is shaky but harsh, features running the gamut of outrage, sadness, and relieved happiness—another gut punch at how clueless he’d been to the consequences of his actions. 

“Afterward, I received several more commissions. The other things were just perks—meeting with the clients, assessing the locations for quotes, and networking at events. Cooper and Natalie are a lovely, generous couple. They were only trying to help me.”

I. Am An. Asshole

He silently chastises himself, dropping his head in shame. Of course, she is using her artistic talent to make money. Hadn’t he told her earlier that he thought she could do that? Pride surges forward, and for a brief moment, he’s genuinely happy—she has the life he always wanted for her—but the delight is quickly replaced by heartache. She has the life he always wanted for her—money, a place to call home, the cabin is hers, new friends that seemingly care about her, and she’s doing something she loves—why would she ever want to return to the horrors and hopelessness of hunting? Why would she want to come back to him? Swallowing heavily around the lump forming in his throat, he focuses back on her.

“I thought you knew.” Dean shakes his head, and her eyes widen with shock. “You didn’t know, but you assumed that I… that…” throwing her hands in the air, she hisses, “fuck you!” Spinning away, she stomps toward the table, snatching up the bottle of whiskey and taking a healthy swig. Surprised the bottle doesn’t shatter when she slams it back on the table, she swipes the back of her hand over her mouth, then angrily shouts, “Why would you think that? I couldn’t... I wouldn’t.” 

He lamely tries to defend his assumption. “You mentioned how good the pay was and then started talking about all that fancy shit.”

“So, what?” she chides, “You thought the only thing I could get paid well for was spreading my legs as a high-end hooker?”

“No.” Rubbing a hand down his face, he grunts, “Hey, you ran with it.” In an attempt at bravado, he squares his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why?” 

There’s no need to elaborate. She knows what he’s asking and shifts her stance.

“I don’t know.” It’s not a plausible answer. Shaking her head, she paces in front of him. “I waited for you. Waited hours for you to come back. Sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door, willing you to appear. When you didn’t…” 

Stopping to face him, she fists a hand, tapping, then rubbing it against her breastbone. “I- I think I resented what happened more than I realized or wanted to admit, and seeing you, talking to you… all the emotions started to break free.” She spreads her hands wide in front of her, trying to express the enormity of her feelings. “The exigency to make you feel the way I felt that night won out.” Eyes riddled with guilt beg him to understand. “I’m so sorry. I made the same promise to have your back, and I left you. I told you I loved you, and I left you to- to deal with it all on your own. I broke every promise I ever made to you.”

Eyes misting over, the pain threatens to consume her like holy oil fire, but right now, she needs him to understand that she is as culpable as him, if not more so, for creating the situation they are currently in. That despite the misery and hostility, she wants a chance at redemption.

“I- I thought that not arguing and leaving would make things easier for you, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. I struggled every day to come to terms with what I’d done. Yeah, I understood… you were scared. I know how that feels.” Shaking a finger at him, she humorlessly laughs. “Your unmitigated desire to constantly sacrifice yourself has made me one with that feeling.”

Pausing, she studies his features, gauges his body language, searches his eyes, and finding the vulnerability behind his defenses, drops her remaining armor. Every drop of sincerity in her soul breathed into the words, “I forgave you before you even stepped out of the room,” for him to hear. 

“When you didn’t call, I realized how badly I’d fucked up, and then I took too long to try and fix it because I didn’t know how. The guilt grew the longer I waited, and I convinced myself you would never want to see me again, that you were better off without me. I’ve blamed myself every day for leaving you to deal with… everything. I don’t expect your forgivene-” 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Gripping her hand in his, he presses it against the vein in his neck. Dean’s heart is pounding like a jackhammer, surprise registers in her expression at feeling the intensity of his pulse, and he hopes she hears the truth around the sorrow in his words. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted all of that for you. I wanted you to be happy and safe.” 

He can’t help the slight snicker at the arch of her brow. “Yeah, okay, so maybe you weren’t safer, but I believed you would be. I wanted you to…” his voice wavers, and he squeezes her hand before continuing, “to have everything I could never give you.” Tucking his chin, he shifts her hand to kiss her knuckles and then lets it go, backing away. “I’m happy for you.” 

She doesn’t let him get far. Grasping the front of his shirt, she holds on, knowing her happiness, her life, hangs in the balance. Lips trembling, she sobs, “I know you probably won’t, but please believe me when I say you are all I’ve ever needed. Ever wanted. Nothing, none of it, matters without you. Every time something good happened to me, you were the first person I thought of telling. The only person I wanted to share it with.” 

Taking a step closer, she captures his gaze. If her eyes are indeed the windows to her soul, she wants to ensure he sees everything—the ache in her heart, the truth in her words, the smoldering ashes of her love waiting to be reignited by his spark. “You are the only one who can chase away the visions that haunt me, make me laugh when I think I never will again, make me feel seen. I’m not happy, Dean, not truly. So, I’m asking… No. I’m begging,” fingers fisting tighter into his shirt, she cups his cheek with her other hand, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Stop,” he croaks. Placing his hands over hers, he briefly closes his eyes, swallowing the fear. “Just… stop.” 

She tucks her chin and tries to slip from his grasp. Locking his arm around her, he crooks a finger beneath her chin, urging her to look at him. When their eyes finally meet, he shakes his head. “I’m the one that should be begging for forgiveness because what I did, what I assumed, is unforgivable.” Shushing her when she tries to speak, he maneuvers them closer to the chair and gently pushes her to sit. Brushing a finger over her cheek, he stares down at her, words trapped in his throat.

Warm fingers wrap around his, “Dean?” the concern etched on her face makes him realize that he’s been silent far too long. 

“I love you so much and am so sorry for hurting you. I was terrified of losing you to some horrible death. Hell, I still am.” Crouching in front of her, he steadies himself with his hands on her knees. Holding her gaze, he earnestly states, “I know that doesn’t excuse how I acted or what I said. You’re right. I kicked you out of your home. It was a shitty thing to do, and-”

“Yeah, it was. And so was my leaving. Dean-” Her hands cover his, trembling fingers squeezing around his palms.

Small. She sounds so small… and scared. Pain holds her smile captive, and sorrow shrouds the sparkle in her eyes. He cuts her off, cradling her face in his hands. “No. It’s my turn now.” Her laugh emerges as a sob, but she gives him a nod, and he thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. 

“When I came back, and you were gone, I was sucker punched with just how badly I’d fucked it all up. I panicked. It felt like I’d died… again. I should have called. I wanted to call. Hell, I wanted to hunt you down and beg for your forgiveness right then, but I convinced myself that what I wanted, what I felt, didn’t matter. That you probably hated me anyway, and as much as it hurt, it was for the best.” 

Dropping his hands to gently grasp hers, he brings them to his chest, “I am so sorry for all of it,” flattening them beneath his as he kneels between her legs. “And I am so damn proud of you. Of everything you’ve accomplished. I’ll get it if you don’t want to give it up. You shouldn’t. Fuck, I shouldn’t even be asking you to.” 

He tries to pull away, but her fingers curl into his t-shirt, body tense as she shakes her head. “Fine,” he mutters, her grip remaining firm as if she senses that he’s drawing strength from her, and a tear slips from the corner of his eye. 

“Not gonna lie, it- It’ll suck if you decide not to, but I will understand.” He’s unsure how much more he can get out before completely losing it, so he rushes through his next words. “I know these are just words, but you have to believe I will never stop trying to make it up to you. You’re the light that illuminates all the dark corners, my light at the end of the tunnel. Hope that there is something better for us out there. I don’t want to do this without you anymore. I’m sorry for everything. Can you forgive me enough to come back home?” 

There’s so much more he wants to say, probably should say, but he figures that he’s said the most important things and prays that it’s enough.

Y/N contemplates the man in front of her, blinking when the brimming tears held back by her lashes spill over to race down her cheeks. The watery distortion can’t hide the truth in his eyes, the sincerity in his tone. Brushing a thumb over his brow, she trails her fingers down his cheek, fingertips disrupting the trail of salty droplets. “I told you I forgave you before you even walked out the bedroom door. It’s not a lie. I didn’t say it to make you feel better.” Resting her palm against his neck, her thumb strokes along his jaw. “I think we each carry enough guilt in this to negate the other’s.” He leans into her touch, but his gaze never falters. 

She knows there’s much more to be said­, trust to be earned back, decisions to be made about their future, but there will be time for that later. 

“Dean, you are my home.” She anxiously tugs on his t-shirt, then surges forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and sobs into his neck. “I’m never leaving it again.”

Feeling like he’s standing on shifting sand, he clings to her, afraid the emotions will bury him alive. Needing her closer, he twists to sit on the floor, pulling her into his lap. He fights to find solid ground, a stepping stone on a path forward, searching for footing, falling into his safety net of humor. He kisses the top of her head, smiling through his tears, “So, does this mean it’s a rumor that you've moved on? That you no longer love me?”

“Yes!” She chokes out, laughing despite the ache in her chest. Sitting back, she frames his face in her hands. “Forget anything you’ve heard to that effect. I gave you my whole heart and never got it back. Not one tiny piece. It’s always been yours and always will be.” 

For the first time in almost a year, Dean breathes freely, heart beating unrestrained, chest no longer feeling like it’s being crushed under the weight of a golem. 

Smile relaxed, tongue wetting his lips, he leans in, but she pulls back, forcefully smacking his chest, and warns, “Don’t ever call me sweetheart like that again. If you do, I’ll give your cassettes a hunter’s funeral.”

Shock, then a nervous laugh, but he knows he’ll do anything to keep her from leaving again. “Deal,” he passionately agrees, sealing it with a kiss.

The mischievous glint in her eyes when she sits back piques his curiosity, and his smile grows as he lifts a brow in question.

“I feel like we should get Jody a fruit basket or something.”

His burst of laughter unleashes a fit of giggles from her, each releasing an inner sigh as tears of happiness now stain their cheeks. Rumors dispelled, defenses reduced to dust, hearts beating in sync once again, safe in the arms of the other.

Love Me Some Pie

@123passwort // @akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deans-baby-momma // @deaneverafter // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @globetrotter28 // @iamsapphine // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justagirlinafandomworld // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @lyarr24 // @michellethetvaddict // @mimaria420 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @mvdeanw // @princessmisery666 // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

SONAMY ongoing evolution

I've been playing Sonic frontiers and I watched Sonic prime and I read the IDW comics... Omg where's do I start???

Sonic frontiers is just a work of art in general, but the sonamy inside is just beautifully portrayed, I can say that Ian Flynn totally ships them 😌😌. I'm just so utterly happy how things had changed even if it took so many years

Sonic changed a lot his perception of Amy! 🥲🥲🥲 Also the detail of the umbrella line, remember that sonic was created in Japan, say fellow anime fans what does usually means when two characters share an umbrella? What does it mean when students in Japan draw an umbrella in the blackboard with two names written under it? It is clear that Ian Flynn totally knows the meaning and the MUSIC! Seriously those scenarios with Amy and that music felt like it came right out of a shojo anime😖😖😖💗💗

But also the feels... THE FUCKING FEELS!! The way Amy is kind of too calm with her situation but Sonic is just so worried and you could tell how worried he was even if he tried to play it cool... His expressions girl... Look at him with his cute ears dropped 🥲🥲🥲 Guys this game fed us good stuff... We shippers finally got what we had always wanted.

Next topic: Sonic Prime.

So I'm a bit conflicted, cause i only liked one of Amy's different designs and that was Thorn Rose, I'm obsessed with her hair but dude Rusty Rose? That could have been better... Also why Rusty Rose and not Metal Rose? Cyborg Rose? Badnik Rose? Mecha Rose? Robot Rose? Rusty sounds a bit degrading... It is because she was made like that by the Egg council? Pff also her robot appearance is just so ugly! What with that eye? But I love the dark concept and I love her SASS 🤣🤣🤣🤣Anyway my problem with Rusty Amy and Sonic is that it feels like the situation is not treated nearly as serious as Nine situation and boy ok you are a hurt loner with bully victim issues but Amy is basically dead, like there's no flesh or organs in her, she literally has a Birdy as a source of life and what is the outcome of that? Is there another outcome different from Gamma's fate in sonic adventure? Because the second Amy gets back her emotions she will want to release the bird... But more importantly... I can't wait to see Shadow react to her... This is the girl that reminded him of Maria, i really shouldn't but I really have high expectations for what kind of interaction will they have, we really need to see Shadow and Amy interact more let's be honest. As for the other Roses, there's no much to say about Black Rose but with Thorn we got good stuff too:

But I have to say one thing... Ok I know Amy is a strong power character but... It's a bit ridiculous that she could fight off characters like Rouge and Knuckles THAT EASY is just...🙃🙃🙃 Well i loved the part when he tries to reason with her all like: you liked me... A bit? Remember? And she is just so irritated and done with him already 🤣🤣🤣 but then... We also got this:

Actually touch her cheek you COWARD!!😤😤 Also when he was about to smash her and but stopped because he has a flashback of his Amy 😭😭😭, it's curious that Thorn Rose seems to be more impactful in Sonic than Rusty Rose which is ok but is odd plot speaking, after all Rusty is the one in the worst condition and is the one hunting him down, I'll just wait for next season and see what happens

And last but not the least I Shall say something about THIS!!

This illustration hit me right in the kokoro, date with hands holding and Sakura petals... is pure shojo manga energy!! I'm so blessed 😭😭💗💗

And of course the important reminder that Amy is a POWER CHARACTER and that's why she and knuckles make a good POWER SIBLINGS team as I stated in their own post about them... And dear Silver fucking gave her a COLOSSAL hammer 😂😂😂do not mess with the pink hedgehog buddy, and of course Sonic knows exactly how awesome she is as it should be, seriously she is really getting better and better, i really hope we'll see her in the next movie

[rielzero]

Nymrod ''A Silver-y coated Fool''

Backstory Blurb;

Nymrod was a High Half Elf Silver Dragonic Bloodline Sorcerer who tried to become a fashion designer despite his family's high demands and expectations. He particularly disliked his innate magic as he had the tendency to freeze things when he got nervous.

As a result of his unstable powers and clumsiness, no one would take him as an apprentice so he had to teach himself how to sew. Struggling with what to do with his misfortunes, he briefly joined a band of friends on a few adventures, realizing he really disliked contributing to conflict and fighting. During a tour to Elturel, he got really drunk and passed out.. Only to awaken when Elturel was pulled into Avernus. The sudden shift of planes for some reason changed him into a Dainty, soft looking Tiefling, unrecognizable to himself and his friends. They swiftly abandoned him in order to flee. Left with little else to hold onto, Nymrod is who he became. Acting docile, foolish and helpless, his appearance and behavior gave him his name, a combination of ''Nymph'' and ''Nimrod'' Passed around several devils as a pretty pet to look at. Hiding his intelligence and using his charm to remain unharmed. When Nymrod was about to be sold to one particularly cruel Devil in exchange of dozens of soul coins, Raphael ended up coming to his rescue. The Cambion recognized Nymrod's facade, becoming the only safe space were Nym's intelligence was genuinely recognized. Nym is very indifferent about the conflict surrounding Avernus as he had to prioritize his own survival. Due being abandoned by his only friends in his time of need, he stopped caring for those who do not value him. Since then he has gotten used to his body, still feeling somewhat strange about it. Some inconsistencies might exist in the blurb, but he is an OC, casual oc. He wouldn't exist in the same universe as the videogame per sé, so no tadpole or mindflayer business. He's not an adventurer, so not very experienced in combat- avoids it.

Idk I like the idea of ''very evil half devil has soft spot for a very unlucky dude'' cuz I enjoy fluff as much as I enjoy angst.

*people in the house of hope literally being tortured, screaming in the background* Nymrod: Hmm. I feel inspired.. *sketches outfit ideas* Raphael: *sips from a glass of brandy* The songs they sing in the morning are the most spirited. Nymrod: Oh, should I add some more skulls in this pattern??

I don't think Nymrod is evil, but rather- indifferent? He had no room to care for others, being isolated for so long. He no longer has that passively active empathy he used to before Avernus. Too much shit happened..

Might write some fic later, idk. I don't feel confident in writing Raphael to be honest, but I want to describe Nym's story a bit more. I don't really intend on drawing it actively as I have other projects.

Nym would get along with Haarlep pretty well, sassy bitching.

Some other things about Nymrod.

-Freezing things when nervous still happens, but given that they're in hell- it just turns into water right away half of the time. ''Did you have an oopsie?'' Haarlep would probably joke around that Nym is a bedwetter.. -He sometimes sheds the scales, but they regrow on the exact same locations. Skin gets a little overly sensitive during this time. -He purrs! Isn't sure why, but it happens. -As a Half Elf, his hair was much darker, he used to wear very dark clothing, but after settling in his new form he prefers light colors. Mostly pink. -As a Fierna Tiefling and sorcerer, Nym's charm spell happens mostly subconsciously, it's gotten him out of trouble many times. -He sold his previous name to a Fey who was wandering in the Hells while he was still held captive as a caged pet. The fey gave him a blessing that makes him naturally lucky out of pity in exchange. He doesn't remember his old name or previous personality much, but he does remember his life before Avernus. He has no attachment to his old life. -Nym had no close friends or relatives when he was abandoned by his family. His only friends were the adventuring group, or so he thought.. -He is clingy, bit of a damsel. Would still throw ice at someone as a last resort. Not great at aim though. Would probably die in 2 hits. -Plays with his tail absentmindedly when he's bored, still unfamiliar with the limb at times. -Tailwag when he's excited. -He really really really likes how his body looks after the change, but it did take some getting used to. -His horns have very sensitive nerve endings. -Insecure in the bedroom, but only because he's inexperienced. His only previous sexual encounters were while drunk, has an alcohol problem but isn't addicted. He just doesn't know when to stop drinking. When given the chance he will drink until he passes out. -Whenever possible, he will make or design clothes for Raphael and Haarlep. Has his own little atelier room to work on these things. -Throws little pouty tantrums when his clothing or work gets stained. -Crybaby, very easily overstimulated. Cries when stressed. -Smarter than he makes himself out to be, loves puzzles. Has solved very intricate and difficult puzzles on a whim before. -Raphael exclusively calls him ''Nimphy'' when greeting him. -Settled for being spoiled or treated as a pet pretty easily, has kept the collar with his name on it since he first got it. He feels safer while wearing it. I might draw responses to specific questions about Nymrod actually. Feel free to flood my inbox lol, if you want me to draw this oc in specific situations..

[i-consume-content]

THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS: PILOT

A Promising Premise with a Playful Plot

SPOILERS AHEAD

I’ll be upfront: I don’t like clowns. I’m not afraid of them, but something about them makes me… uncomfortable. Overly joyous, bright and flashy, and more effective at drawing in a crowd of those goblins we call “children” than a box of Capri-Sun. The Amazing Digital Circus (which will henceforth be referred to in this article as TADC) plays with the vibes I get from clowns perfectly, goblin children and all.

Quick plot synopsis! We find ourselves inside the titular Amazing Digital Circus, a virtual world in which a wacky cast of characters have been trapped for an unknown amount of time. The story follows Pomni, the newcomer, as she tries to escape the circus and get back to the real world without losing her mind. After meeting the other suckers trapped in this world (and then running away from one of them), Pomni finds an exit door free-standing in the middle of the tent. After running through a Backrooms-like facility, her efforts turn out to be all for naught, since the ringmaster Caine hasn’t even finished building the exit. Whoopsies! Yeah, a bunch of other stuff happens, but the B-plot isn’t really as interesting as Pomni’s journey.

I’m going to start the actual review part of this article with the art and animation. The love and care put into making the characters feel alive is not to be overlooked, and it’s clear that the team behind TADC took care in making sure the animation was the best it could be. The characters are expressive in the way they walk, run, and use their hands. Each design is unique and fun, with none of them being standout great and none lagging behind. My personal favorite design is Caine, who is as wonderfully ridiculous as the circus he runs. An honorable mention to Gangle, whose ribbon body leads to some genuinely funny goofs and gaffs in the show. I think the only character design I have problems with is Zooble, a mishmash of multicolored parts of many styles. It’s a neat idea in concept, and Gooseworx’s previous works prove abstract designs can be pulled off well, but Zooble is way too cluttered for my tastes.

Something I really enjoy about TADC is how well it pulls off sound. Music production and voice acting are my hobbies and sound work is my job, so it's always nice to see a show or movie pull off sound well. Goofy character movements are often accentuated by bouncy and cartoony sound effects, and the overall mixing and mastering of the episode is high-quality. At no point did it feel like any character was too loud or too quiet, too bland or too overeffected. I like the subtle changes in reverb as the camera switches to a new point of view, a thing that in hindsight seems obvious but many people may miss when making a show like this. I must also commend the voice actors and voice directors for their amazing work bringing these characters to life and giving them personality. As soon as I heard Caine in the promotional material, I realized it was a complete no-brainer to bring on Alex Rochon to use the Spamton voice from his Deltarune dubs. I also must point out Michael Kovach's work as Jax, being just obnoxious enough to make you want to hate him but not enough to stop you from absolutely loving him. The music is also fantastic, as one comes to expect from the talented hands of Gooseworx. It should come as no surprise that my favorite track from the pilot is Your New Home, and I seem to be far from the only one with that opinion.

Unfortunately, it's not all sunshine and rainbows with TADC. I do have one major gripe with the show, and that's the writing. The story is intriguing and entertaining, but a lot of dialogue near the beginning of the episode falls flat for me. It's a good script assisted by great VAs, but it really does feel like some of the dialogue is trying to cram in lots of information in a shorter time frame, to the point where some of it feels stilted and drags on. However, I suppose I can understand why this is the case. A pilot is a way for a show to tell the audience what it's doing, what it's about, and why you should watch. Thus, it's reasonable to put more information into a pilot than feels necessary, so that you don't need to take as long to get someone hooked.

All in all, TADC is a lovely show that I highly recommend checking out if you haven't already, and I wish the best of luck to GLITCH, Gooseworx, and the rest of the team in funding a full season of this show.

FINAL RATING:

A Breaking Point out of 10

- Rock

[mbrainspaz]

Still processing the fact that before this job I never had one where I haven't been harassed or abused in some way. I'm still not sure I believe it can last.

It's been over a decade since I started working. My very first job in college I had a coworker who would cuss me out every day at 7am because he didn't want to be there, which wasn't worth the minimum wage pay. At my first office job the boss joked I should dance on a table and coworkers debated how easy it would be to assault me. In 2021 I had a coworker who would show up and follow me around on his time off just to criticize me and call me an idiot. When I tried reporting him the boss defended him and did nothing. So many people treated me like I was stupid and incompetent to the point that they almost had me believing it. Even once I stood up for myself I had to work through 2 years of useless corporate Karens talking down to me like I was a teenage peasant instead of an expert running their whole business from the dirt up. Another coworker made a hobby out of yelling at me every chance he got and trying to stop me from doing my job because he didn't believe it was 'women's work.' Everyone knew he was bullying me and just expected me to cope. Nobody (except one part time high schooler) ever used the right damn pronouns for me. My parting Christmas bonus was the corporate boss making up false accusations in an attempt to get me fired because she effed up the budget.

Now I walk in to work 5 minutes late. There's no time clock. People smile and greet me in the hallway. The department boss gives me a cheery 'good morning!' I settle into my cubicle with the fluorescents turned off and my top end mac they got me with my coffee. An hour later my boss stops by for a chat and we exchange notes on the tasks for the day. He's always the picture of professionalism. He asks me how my horse is doing. I ask him if the latest freak storm destroyed his house. He says it missed. Nice. I spend the next 8 hours doing the 4 hours worth of work I've been given and then drawing or writing my novel. Eventually my cubicle neighbor shows up and we exchange a friendly greeting. Sometimes the gen z girls from social media swing by and ask me if I want to go get coffee. Everybody still gets my pronouns wrong but they correct themselves on the next pass, even my boss's boss who gives me slightly bad vibes. The director stops by to say hi and pet whichever dog I brought into the office with me because that's allowed here. Just before 5 someone taps my shoulder and says there's leftover cake in the break room. The pay isn't making me rich but it's enough for now. I'm not any more or less competent, skilled, manly, valuable, or intelligent now than I was at any other job I've ever had, from the sandwich shop to the last horse stable. If anything I'm applying fewer of my skills than I've ever had to use to get by. Suddenly people see me when I walk past. They want to know my name. They treat me with respect. I did nothing different to 'deserve' this. At most I crossed paths with the right contact at the right time thanks to a funny bumble profile that I designed to ward off christian men.

[kramaku]

I'll be honest, I too am a little bothered by that. A lot of people are saying it's silly (before we're even getting the official release) and I'm sure people (who hate him) are also upset that Bakugou is coming back.

Nowadays, I really feel like everyone wants everything to be top tier and written to perfection. Always having high expectations instead of enjoying something as it is.

It reminds me of people complained about the OVAs that were meant to simply be comedic. It's ridiculous.

Some people in this fanbase expect too much.

It's not like BNHA was entirely written to be something so serious. We have a kid with tape for a quirk, another with balls on his head, a guy who yells for a living, another who can manipulate fibers, etc. It doesn't even stop at quirks.

Just even how the characters' personalities are, how they're designed and how some scenes are written to be played for laughs.

I'm just real tired of people thinking every piece of media should be perfect. It should be enough that it's entertaining.

Don't like it. Leave.

You're right and I've talked a lot about how every chapter can't be a masterpiece. But messing up a "death" of the 2nd main character is a mistake not to make.

Now I'll be honest, when I first read the leaks, at the end, I stopped and thought... "is that a joke? Hell no." Because I somehow understand the hate towards this chapter (this isn't a hate post only positivity here!!). But let's resolve the love and hate Horikoshi receives this week, shall we?

Bakugou's death is sad, respectful, beautiful, but to me, its quality depended a lot on rather he would come back to life or not because we have to take the story in consideration. My Hero Academia is a story that gives hope, it's not meant to be a tragedy... so can you imagine a kid that dreamed to be the top hero and to have a happy future with his childhood friend to just die.. and that's it? Can you imagine Izuku even able to grieve and show the glimpse of a smile after Bakugou's death? To consider himself the strongest hero if he couldn't save his best friend? No. And what kind of life long rivalry ends with "can i keep up with you?"?? Theyre not even fighting side by side once?? The bromance/romance between the two is a huge pilar of the story and it ends with them not even being officially friends at least??? There's still a lot of details that sold how Bakugou definitely couldn't be off the story for good but we're not here to talk about that. His death is well written to me because of the way it comes with sacrifice and of the fact that it ends with revival. Now... is his revival well written? Well, unlike this morning when I first read the leaks, I believe that it's gonna be well written.

I understand why people are angry.. if they believe that, that's it, Bakugou's back to life and will go running again next chapter. If it happens I'll be the first to cry when I read this bullshit, I swear. Because 1st, Bakugou being back so fast feels useless. What was his death for?? If it just causes the death of a pro hero we barely saw in the story, then better not do it at all. Was it written just to make a good cliff hanger and keep people excited for the next chapter each week?? That's it????? No. I don't think so. Horikoshi isn't like that. He even dared to draw the my villain academia arc, despite how risky it was. People read hero comics for the heroes, they don't usually want dozens and dozens of chapters about the "bad guys". Yet he did it because he wanted to (and it happened to be one of the best arcs, congrats). Anyway, just to say, fans want consequences to Bakugou's death. At least Izuku going feral seeing the carnage Shigaraki did, Izuku proving once again how villains and heroes are two sides of the same coin and how the differences between the two can be very thin, so thin that Izuku could give himself to rage and act very unheroic... villainous. That could lead to talk again about morals, the good and the bad, the values of a hero- it could've opened the door to so many good stuff!! But here we are, with... nothing. Nothing because the revival act feels (currently) empty. Edgeshot is a character that had almost no screen time, has never been relevant to the story whatsoever and never even spoke to Bakugou but now he comes out of nowhere and saves him, dies for him. Like that. I'm an edgeshot fan, he's cool, I'm happy to see some actual ninja stuff from him, but rn I get why people are mad. Edgeshot basically came like "Hi! My name is plot armor! Let's pretend nothing happened so there's absolutely no consequences and none of your awesome theories will come true!"

If bakugou really stands up next chapter, izuku arrives and they just fight together, then yes this is utter crap. Every chapter between 356 to 364 would feel meaningless.

But I have trust in Horikoshi and im convinced that Edgeshot's sacrifice is just the first step of the resurrection. Jeanist still has to do an insane job, the other heroes have to hold back Shigaraki, some will probably die too, and Bakugou will surely still be very much dead when Izuku arrives so we'll get Izuku's reaction and all the good stuff that comes with it. I'm excited and trust Horikoshi on this one.

If the revival is wrote like that, well handled, then the 364th chapter is a good one. It's not the kind of chapter you can judge on its own, but unfortunately, seems like a lot of fans (now haters..?) did that today.

I'll either praise of shit on this chapter after we get next week's. On a side note, I really loved the All for One stuff, the Stars and Stripes with All Might moment, the Mirko moments, there's good stuff!! For now I'm just watching how Horikoshi plans to handle this. Patience, everyone 👍

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

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There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[chanfictions]

Chidori

18+ CONTENT! MINORS DNI!

Kakashi x Reader

Part 2

Playing with electricity, mind games, smut, smut, smut.

2.4k

It's all fun and games until your boyfriend acquires intel that you have some unfulfilled fantasies involving his chakra nature.

You and your big fucking mouth.

You knew getting drunk and shmoozing with that old pervert was a huge mistake, but inebriated you was just a treasure trove of curative ideas for the raunchy author's writer's block, and he was footing the tab. One cup of sake after another and your most titillating fantasies just rolled right off of your twisted tongue in a drunken game of Never-Have-I-Ever, Kink Edition. Little did you know that your traitorous mountain of a drinking buddy would slink off to your boyfriend later with all of the intel he had gathered from you.

You made a mental note to sic Tsunade on him later. Now, however, you had more important things to worry about, namely the chirping cracks of lightning surrounding Kakashi’s hand as you shifted nervously in your rope bindings. "Babe, shouldn't we talk about this?" You squeaked nervously as you twirled in place like a little marionette with your arms bound above your head.

"What's there to talk about, hm? Jiraiya told me just how exciting you thought it would be to play with electricity." The eerie calm in his voice as he circled you, wielding that handful of sparking doom sent lusty shivers up your spine. You were a thrill seeking fear slut, and Kakashi knew it. The danger held in his palm twisted your insides into the most delightful knots and left you dripping with excitement.

"I meant… oh, I don't know, a violet wand or something designed for use on the human body, not an assassination jutsu!" You stammered and your voice climbed in pitch. Your eyes widened the closer he got to you. The scent of ozone filled your nostrils, and all of the little hairs on your body stood on end from the static beginning to collect in the air.

"What's the matter, kitten? Don't think you can handle it?"

"Do I think I can handle a jutsu you use to literally pierce people's hearts as FOREPLAY?!" Your voice entered the soprano register as you gnawed your lip and spun around him again, tipping about on the balls of your bare feet.

A chuckle purred deep in Kakashi’s chest as he pulled his mask down with a light curl to the corner of his mouth. "That is what I asked you."

Words failed you, and all you could manage was a high pitched squeal as he ghosted the edge of that jutsu around your exposed stomach, just barely kissing your skin with static. Your breath caught in your throat as your heart leapt into your mouth.

"You haven't forgotten your safe word, have you?" He mused while continuing to circle you like a silver-haired lion.

Another squeaky yelp that sounded like a 'no' slipped from your lips as your bugged out eyes followed the sparks and you twitched away from his hand.

"What we should talk about is your racy little conversation with Master Jiraiya yesterday." Kakashi’s dark iris glinted with the reflection of those chirping bolts as he traced a less dangerous finger along your trembling jawline, tipping your chin upward. "Naughty girl, telling that old pervert about your little fantasies before even I had the privilege of hearing them." His voice was a mere gusty murmur blowing beneath the deafening crackle humming right next to your face.

"We were just talking about his unfinished book," you insisted in a shaky chitter as your eyes locked on the blue chakra leaping from his fingertips. Boy, did Kakashi know how to push your buttons. The ache between your legs had you twisting your thighs as that knot of excited fear tightened in your belly. He had barely laid a finger on you since hanging you up, and you were just fluttering for some kind of stimulation.

Another dark little laugh rolled in Kakashi’s chest. "You should really know better by now, kitten," he purred, bringing the jumping bolts ever closer to your skin, letting little shocks nip and draw goosebumps on your waist as he trailed his sparking hand ever closer to your very erect nipples, making you squirm anxiously. "Master Jiraiya and I are very good friends. He tells me everything."

You swallowed hard, breaking into a bit of a sweat. "So… um… what else did he tell you?" Your voice cracked under the strain of the pitch you were reaching while you bit your lip. Keeping your heaving chest away from his hand was growing more difficult with the little slack you had in your rope.

"Now, where's the fun in giving up my leverage?" A sly smile tilted his lips. "You might want to stop squirming before this arcs… electricity can be so unpredictable, can't it?"

A high whine hummed in your throat as your eyes flicked from that devious smile back to his hand again. He wouldn't, right? Another hard swallow had you nibbling on your lip in hopeful anticipation and wringing your bound hands. That chirping sound terrified you, as you knew it all too well from fighting alongside the silver-haired jonin. Your heart raced in the best possible way, that fear leaving you aching and wet.

"Oh, but you'd like that, wouldn't you? I can see it in your eyes," he murmured in your ear, sliding behind you and pulling your body tightly against his with his tamer hand, tracing a line from your navel up to the breast he firmly cupped. You felt that bulge of desire for you straining the fabric of his pants when you were pulled in and gave your ass a little teasing wiggle against it. He trailed his lips along your neck up to your jaw. Deft fingers rolled a hardened bud, sending tasty jolts through your body, making you arch into his touch. The chattering spark in his left hand hovered inches from your skin. "Say it."

"K-kakashi, I--" you stammered nervously. He could no doubt feel your racing pulse beneath his lips as he kissed his way along your neck.

"It's simple. Either you want it and you tell me as much, or you don't and tap out, but we both know what you're going to say." How that man managed to maintain such an aloof coolness while terrorizing you like this was just beyond you.

With your blood rushing in your ears, you bit your lip and dropped your head back against his shoulder. "Light me up," you breathed lustfully before you even realized what you were asking for.

With a knowing chuckle, Kakashi obliged. The pitch of the chirping shifted, and hot points of light licked your skin, leaving you gasping in surprise. The little lightning strikes were fiery and felt sharp like the edge of a knife being dragged over your flesh. You had expected it to really hurt, but as usual, Kakashi had twisted your head around in a delicious mind fuck, letting you think he just might fry you up until the very last moment. The sensation beautifully toed the line between pain and pleasure, sending literal shocks through your body. Arching your back, you bit your lip with an excited squeal as his hand hovered just above your nipple, peppering it with a storm of static. "Did you really think that I would touch you with an actual Chidori?" The tone of his voice sent shivers up your spine.

"It s--ah-aaah-oounded like the rreeeal one," you gasped in a breathy moan as those sparks danced around your torso. Tiny bolts pierced your skin like needles without leaving so much as a mark in their wake. The most shocking aspect of this newfound kink was the smell. It never occurred to you that electricity had any kind of defining odor, but this did, and you couldn't get enough of it.

More soft chuckles hummed behind you as Kakashi’s breath fanned your neck. His sparking hand ran circles around your breasts, sending shocks straight through your body to your throbbing clit. The sensation was amazing and left you arching into his body, swaying your hips against his own waiting lust. "Are you trying to tell me something, hm?" He punctuated the statement with a nip of your neck and began trailing his new favorite toy downward.

"W-w-aaaait a minute!!" You squeaked in surprise at a dog-whistle pitch, wiggling your hips again in an effort to avoid that hand as you had quickly realized what he was about to do with it.

"You know the word to use if you want me to stop," he murmured, more and more amused by this. "Otherwise, I'm going to find out if I can get you off without actually touching you." He slid his feet between yours, prying your legs apart and stepping lightly on the tops of your now inward turned feet to keep you rooted.

The next sound coming out of your mouth was a shrill, giggling shriek that rolled into a loud moan. Kakashi brought those sparking fingers down to your slick clit, hovering just above it and sending little lightning strikes grouped in pulsing waves directly at the most sensitive spot. The electric chakra jumped around your dripping pussy, sending all new sensations ripping through your body. The inhuman noise you were producing grew loud enough that Kakashi had to muffle your mouth with his other hand to prevent the neighbors from thinking he was murdering you.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you let out another loud wail. Pins, needles, and precise strikes of heat from the electricity coursing through you sent your muscles contracting in waves in time with the pulses leaving his fingers. Your walls fluttered around nothing, absolutely starving to be filled. The intensity was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your legs trembled as the pitch of your voice rolled chromatically skyward.

Kakashi hummed praises in your ear, kissing along your exposed neck as he kept that one hand clamped firmly over your mouth. With a sly smirk he whispered in your ear, "Let's turn things up a bit."

To say you saw stars as he did just that was an understatement. The heat and force applied by those biting strikes of sparking chakra increased, intensifying your involuntary muscle contractions. Your legs nearly gave way as the first heavy wave of the night crashed over you and stole the air from your screaming lungs. Your walls clenched desperately. The knot of heat in your belly finally burst.

"Mmm, so that does work. Good to know," he mused, turning up the power as you rode out that first release until you wailed again and bucked your hips into his hand. Cutting the chakra off for the moment, he pressed hard against your puffy clit, rubbing circles to keep you teetering on the edge of blissful insanity.

"Mmmfffff--K-kakashi, please," you begged desperately around his hand. You were throbbing, aching, pining to be filled. "N-need you, need you now--"

As swift as the bolts of lightning crackling about in his hand, Kakashi had you untied from the rope, stripped his own clothes, and pinned to the mattress just a few steps behind where you were hanging. With a bruising kiss and a hand tangled in your hair, he ground his hips against your throbbing pussy, eliciting a lewd moan from you into his mouth. Hungry, desperate, and needy for him, you snapped your legs around him, urging him to stuff you. There was no need for the usual prep with how wet that electricity had gotten you. You gasped with eyes rolling back into your head as he abruptly rutted his full length into your aching core, sending you right back into outer space, digging your nails into his shoulders and locking your legs around him.

A low growl rumbled in Kakashi’s throat as your walls attempted to crush his cock. He swallowed your moans and wails from his movements in equally ravenous kisses with one hand still tangled into your hair. As you rode out yet another blinding orgasm, he snatched one of your knees and pinned it to your chest to achieve more depth that left you teetering on the edge of blackout. It was so fucking good. You clenched around him again, finally with the satisfaction of being stuffed so full and babbled incoherently. "Fuck-- Kakashi, so fu-haaah-ah-big -- can't -- oh, gods-- I--"

Hearing you unable to string together a coherent sentence filled Kakashi with immense satisfaction as he ground deeply into your impossibly tight little hole. Picking up the pace, the force of his thrusts rocked the bed noisily into the wall, though it likely couldn't be heard over you. He smothered your rambling cries with his mouth, leaving trails of bites and hot breath down your neck before coming back for more. He groaned loudly as you bit his shoulder while fluttering around him yet again to stifle your own noise. Nail marks decorated his upper back from your desperate attempt to hold onto something as he railed you into oblivion. His breathing quickened before catching in his throat and erupting as a guttural growl when he delved into you to an impossible depth, painting your insides white.

You were nearly choking on your own saliva as you dropped your head back into the mattress beneath you, fighting to catch your breath. Kakashi buried his face into the curve of your neck, gripping you tightly and murmuring soft affections as you both slowly drifted down from that impressive high. You could hardly feel your legs from how hard your soul had been fucked out of your body. He remained there, buried in you with your leg still trapped, trailing his fingers along your cheek while you tried to remember your own name.

"That was… ridiculous," you breathed heavily, coiling your arms around his neck.

Kakashi just chuckled, trailing his lips up your neck to yours again. "Well, now that you can speak again, perhaps we can finish the conversation we started earlier," he mused, running his fingers along your side teasingly.

You were not running on full steam and just pressed yourself tightly against him. "Hmm?"

"Mmm, electricity wasn't the only thing you were talking about with Master Jiraiya…" Kakashi spoke in a husky tone and trailed off with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

You peered up at him, face beginning to flame with embarrassment and a slight hint of dread as you remembered the depth of your drunken chat with the sannin who was definitely going to get pummeled for this later.

Oh, shit.

"What's this I heard about shadow clones?"

[shurisneakers]

harmless (i)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, nonsense writing

Word count: 1.5k 

A/N: listen i just needed something to keep my mind busy and a perry the platypus!bucky and dr. doofenshmirtz!reader was the only thing i could think of. dont have any high expectations from this series, you will be sorely disappointed.

If you have any ideas for this series, lemme know!! it’d be cute to write!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Series Masterlist

Bucky Barnes, for all intents and purposes, is edgy. 

His SHIELD salary is definitely enough to afford him a simple beanie, gloves even if he’s that eager. His long hair, though a spectacle in itself, isn’t as good at keeping away the cold as he claims it to be. 

It’s a personal choice, a fashion statement even, to be roaming the streets in a long flimsy t-shirt that does nothing to accentuate his broad shoulders, and tactical pants that look a little too comfortable. 

It’s cold. He says he likes it, to appease his blond haired best friend who insisted that he wear a cardigan at least. He won’t like it in a while, but he would never admit it.

The bike ride to the other side of town for a minor mission takes longer than he expected. The wind rushing by gets his adrenaline racing. 

Official missions are long and gruelling, and oftentimes not fun. But it gives him a purpose.

It’s easy, therefore, to find him brooding when he’s not on one. 

No one wants their room to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s stress-cleaning sessions. His baking is more appreciated.

So when there’s news of a small time villain creating havoc again, it made sense that he volunteered to go sort it out. No one else wanted the job. They’d all been at it before. 

SHIELD didn’t seem particularly bothered either. 

“It’s not that serious, Barnes.”

“I’m going.”

“Just stop her from doing whatever dumb plan she has today. She seems to have a new one every week.”

“Can I-”

“This is not an assassination mission.”

“Fine. Can I-”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t know what to expect. He had an idea of how they should be. Smaller villains tended to be more aggressive, vicious to prove their point. They were here to stay.

He wears his regular gear. Enough knives to make a butcher look away in shame, and guns including, but not limited to, his biceps.

He finally pulls the bike to a stop a few metres away, leaving it out of reach in case things got too out of hand. He didn’t want to have to walk back to the Tower, and his friends, as much as they loved him, would never go out of their way to pick him up. Little shits. 

The address is a dingy, plain concrete house near an old construction site. It was flat and felt more like an afterthought than an actual building. It looked more like an abandoned Walmart than an actual villain lair. 

The only entrance is the door in the front. He counts to three, lifting his leg to kick it down.

It falls down ungracefully, loud and creaky like it was bound to the doorframe by rust. 

The only light source inside is a green light. All the way at the other end on an elevated platform is a desk and a chair facing away from him. He can’t see much other than that.

Someone’s laughter comes back loud and booming. He raises his gun, feet apart in a defensive stance. 

“I’ve been expecti-” the voice pauses mid-sentence- “Did you just kick down my door?”

He looks behind him to where the wooden piece is on the floor. He certainly did.

He can finally see you as you stand up, green light illuminating your face. You reach over to the side, pressing a few switches. 

He squints when all the lights turn on, pulling the both of you from darkness. 

“Dude!” you cry out, face twisting into what only could be described as a mix of horror and disdain. “What’d you do that for?”

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t lower his gun either.

“You’re an Avenger, just fuckin’ pick the lock or something. This is expensive!” 

He only watches as you whine, looking beyond him at your now demolished entrance. You take a few steps closer, jumping down from the elevated platform.

“Insurance isn’t going to cover this.” You drag your palm across your fist before extending it towards him. “Pay up.”

He wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“What?” he finally asked, voice gruff.

“All you superheroes go around, destroying walls and cars in the name of world peace like you own the damn thing. Not today, bitch boy. Pay up.”

He doesn’t have his wallet with him. He didn’t expect to need it.

“I’m supposed to be stopping you.” 

“You can do that once you pay for my door.” 

You sound resolute, unshaken. A little annoyed. There’s what appears to be a gun in your hand, although it’s unlike any weapon he’s seen before.

“What’s your plan?” Bucky looks at your hand. Your stare follows his. You lift the thing up and he tenses.

“I was going to freeze some jerk but now my plan is to get you cancelled on Twitter.” 

“Why?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Local superhero destroys property of tax paying citizen for no good reason.”

“I mean-” he shakes his head, discarding what you’re saying, “-why were you going to freeze someone?”

“Because I wanted to. But you’ve ruined the mood now, so that won’t happen.”

He blinks, lowering his weapon when he realises you weren’t making any attempt to move. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to mildly inconvenience that stupid fuck for being such a prick.”

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Is that the freeze ray?” Bucky asks instead, raising his gun when he realises there’s a very real chance he could end up like his best friend. 

“You got a problem with it?” You hold it up carelessly. 

“I can’t let you use that.”

“That’s all you’re going to do?” you huff, “Is this what you call an intervention? This is so boring.”

“Give me the freeze ray and no one has to get hurt.” 

“No one was going to get hurt in the first place, genius. All this does is slow him down for 5 minutes so he misses the subway.”

There’s nothing technically that evil about what you’re doing. He doesn’t even know how you ended up on SHIELD’s radar. He gets why no one was particularly driven to take this seriously.

“And for fuck’s sake put that gun away. You’re not scaring me.” 

He doesn’t oblige, even though something tugs at him, telling him that you’re speaking the truth. 

“Here, take the stupid thing.” You don’t bother waiting for his response, bending over and sliding the gun towards his feet. “I’ll find another way to get back at that dickhead.”

It hits his boot with a small thud. He looks down. Its design is ridiculously comical, like you ripped it straight out of a kid’s TV show. 

“Next time, bring some drama. Wear a cape or something.” You wave him off. “Now get out of my lair. I need to fix the door.”

“You don’t have another one of these lying around, do you?”

“Why, do your friends want one too?” The glare you give him is dangerous. He doesn’t react to it. “No, it’s limited edition. I don’t build the same thing twice.”

“You have others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” A smile grows on your face, dropping as quickly as it arrives. “SHIELD will tell you if I do. Now leave.”

Bucky looks at the freeze ray in his hand. He supposes his job is done. He was told to stop you, but you didn’t seem to have any inclination to go on with your plan.

“You can ask them if you want, they know about me.” You roll your eyes. “Go ahead, call them.”

He doesn’t want to take a chance. As odd as the situation is, it’s still novel and he isn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

He tucks your weapon under his arm, pressing his phone to his ear.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Maria’s voice is crisp as ever.

“I confiscated a... freeze ray.” He feels ridiculous even saying it. “But I’m going to bring her in to SHIELD headquarter-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But we can’t trust-”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while. She’s more or less harmless. You can take the rest of the night off, Sergeant.”

He cuts the call, not entirely at ease with the smug, expectant look on your face. 

Still, he couldn’t disobey direct orders.

“I’m gonna... go.” He mentions towards the gaping hole in the wall.

“That would be ideal, yes.” You nod, crossing your arm over your chest.

“Okay.” He hesitates, but finally takes a step backwards. He peeks over his shoulder as he leaves, but finds you swivelled away from him again. 

He steps back outside. The cold greets him again like an old friend. The weight of his weapons feels stupidly embarrassing now. 

It’s a long drive back to the Tower. He keeps replaying the entire story in his mind. He’s unsure of whether he made the right call, but no one else really seemed to care. 

He had seen weirder things. It came with the gig.

He leaves it at that.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks him when he walks into the living room.

“T’was fine,” he answers, toying with the stupid device he took from you. Maybe he would test it on Clint. He had been getting annoying lately. Breathing too much in Bucky’s general direction.

A part of him feels guilty for his carelessness towards your building. The other part is just bewildered. 

That night he looks up the cost it takes to replace a door, making a mental note to draw some money from the ATM soon.

Next part

[gildedmuse]

Lead

A ZoLaw AU Nobody Asked For

Modern AU where Zoro is out walking his neighbors/roommates new puppy - it's name is Chopper which isn't half bad since it reminds him of something you would be with a sword, but the pup itself is just way too enthusiastic about everything and keeps thinking it can try and drag him around - acting all put out about being asked when suddenly he looks up and there is The Sexiest Man He's Ever Seen, smirking smiling at him and all, "Hey there, cutie, what's your name?"

Mn? Not exactly what Zoro had been expecting, but the guy is also hot enough for him to give another try. "Zoro."

"Ahh, Zoro-ya." Sexy Stranger crotches down, and it only just occurs to Zoro that he isn't the one who caught this boy's attention at all. He gives Chopper a quick Look. First Timers luck, that's all. "Aren't you a cute one?" Scratching behind the puppy's ear, giving him a smile that really should be reserved solely for humans, and preferably in the bedroom. "Does he know any tricks? Can you sit Zoro-ya? What a good boy!"

Zoro just roles his eyes. Sitting down isn't that impressive. "Thanks, I guess."

Then looking up and smiling definitely smirking at Zoro. "Your puppy-ya seems well behaved, too."

Huh? Wait, what did he just-

By the time Zoro recovers, Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy Sassy has already strolled off down the street and... Well, damn, of course he'd have a fantastic ass.

"Don't get excited," he warms Chopper when the puppy starts barking up at him. "Most guys don't look like that. And they definitely don't stop just to pet you." No point in Chopper getting his expectations too high.

—💚—

A few days later, Zoro is just put for his morning run when, going pass the dog park, a certain someone draws his attention. It's that same dark haired jerk from the other day, the one with the smirk and the strange comment. Such a weird guy.

Zoro immediately makes a U turn back to the apartment.

Dashing in just long enough to grab Chopper, a leash and, okay, he's gonna ditch the hoodie Luffy gave him with his badass, ridiculous pirate design, going for just his blue tank top. "Oi, I'm borrowing Chopper!" and speeds back to the park.

Chopper just looking up at him from under his arm like, "Yay! It's Zoro!" Because of course in Chopper's mind, Zoro walked him that once and has fed him twice and throw a ball for him a couple times. They are pretty much inseperable soul mates.

Yay! It's walking with Zoro time! He loves this time! This isn't like most walks Chopper takes. Usually, Robin let's him walk on his own, instead of just carrying him but this is fun too -

Oh, are they gonna stop here? It looks like so much fun! Ooh, what are all those smells?? Ah!! And the little kid wants to pet him!! Chopper is so glad Zoro brought him here this place is great and hey look its that nice guy from the other day that Chopper super impressed by showing him his sitting trick. Hey, Zoro should get Chopper to show him again, bet he likes it just as much! Here, Chopper is gonna sit now, did he notice? Did he? Did-

EEEEEE!

Eee!!! THERE'S A GIANT SNOWY MOUNTAIN AND IT'S ALIVE!!! ZORO SAVE HIM!!!!! HE'S TOO YOUNG TO DIE!!!!

Zoro trying to flirt while Chopper, despite barely coming up past his ankles, is making a valiant attempt to leap straight upward and into Zoro's arms.

Zoro, Zoro, it's gonna eat him, save him! Why isn't Zoro saving him!?!? Oh my god what if Zoro can't see it!!! What if only Chopper can see it!!! Oh my god oh my god Zoro there is a snow mountain monster and it's going to eat them all and probably Robin next! ZOOOORRRROOOO!

Zoro: *deflecting Chopper from jumping up on him* Chopper, what are you barking about?

Standing just behind Law is a older Great Pyrenees, who is very much suspicious of this newcomer who has just coming bounding into his dog park and right up to his captain. He hasn't done anything, but if the little raccoon creature tries jumping on his captain like that, he would be forced to take action.

Law: *Gives Bepo a look* Bepo, no.

Bepo just sort of collapses on himself, head dropping, and you can almost where the, "sorry, captain"..

Zoro is trying to pry Chopper off his face. "What the hell!?"

And Law just calmly takes the panicked puppy. "Is this his first time at the dog park?"

"What? I don't know. Maybe? My roommate only got him like a week ago."

"He's probably just a little nervous." Setting the (heart racing, eyes wide OHMYGOD HES SACRIFICING ME TO THE MOUNTAIN!!! ZOROO!!!!!) racoon looking puppy on the ground. "Bepo, this is Chopper-ya." Bepo looking up, giving Chopper a few exploritory sniffs. "He's new. Why don't you get your toy, and help Zoro-ya look after him?"

And Bepo gives a low, gruff sound and slowly pads off to a yellow box, pulling out a squeaky penguin you that he brings back to put on front of Chopper.

Chopper: stare, heart beat about 5000 per minute

Bepo: Stare, perfectly calm

Chopper: stare, heart gonna explode

Bepo: reaches forward

Chopper: DEATH IS COMING FOR ME

Bepo: *squeaks toy*

Chopper: *Still huddled up, awaiting his fate*

Chopper: *Surely gonna die any moment* ... *What is that squeak from though?*

Chopper: .... Reaches out and nudges toy

It SQUEAKS!

It's okay, everything is okay! The mountain isn't going to eat them, Zoro! Chopper made sure it was safe and look now he has this cool toy to play with look Zoro it makes a noise isn't that awesome? Zoro look! Oh my god it does it when he chews it too! This is amazing!

Zoro: Oh, err, hey, you're really good at that.

Law: *Shrugs* It's generally part of being a vet, being decent with animals. I'll take it he's not yours, then.

No, but you can be if you want

[biggest-stupidhead]

Can I ask for an request where Levi is a soldier who is pointed to protect a royal person. Then he fell in love with her active attitude, smart brain and support to the scout

AN: This took me so long. I deleted it like three times on accident so this is as good as its going to get 😂. do let me know though if I misspelled anything I didn't skim over it sooooo YOLO.

Summary: Levi is asked to attend the summer gala with !princess reader.

Word Count: 2.8 K

Warnings: mentions of Levi's scarring, some cussing? I think? that's about it

__________

Levi's hand trembled as he ran the fine toothed comb through his damp hair. He scowled back at his own reflection, eyes avoiding the pink scars that marred his skin. It had been nearly a year since he had been discharged from the military due to his injuries. At first he had struggled to find a routine, having been in the military for more than half of his life, it was a huge loss.

His hand jerked unexpectedly and the comb pulled through a knot in his hair painfully. He clicked his tongue and dropped the comb, gripping the edges of the sink to steady himself.

How pathetic.

There was a time when he could complete these tasks with no problem. But now his body seemed to be failing him, if he stood for too long his joints protested, he struggled to hold a pen due to his lack of fingers. He also wore an eyepatch to cover his milky right eye and some of the scars that covered the right side of his face.

Normally Hange would help him get ready, they were the only person he could stomach seeing him this way. But Hange was busy, they had meetings all morning. So Levi was left on his own, and he managed as well as he could. Although it took him double the amount of time it usually took, he still did it.

He grabbed his cane on his way out of his humble apartment, the carriage was waiting for him outside. In the carriage was the last person he wished to see, Zeke Jaeger. His glasses glinted in the sunlight as the coachman held the door for Levi who sat as far away from the war chief as possible.

Zeke blew out a puff of smoke, which swirled around in the small space. Levi's lip curled into a sneer, and Zeke smirked pleased to rouse a reaction from the retired Captain.

"Big day today eh Levi?" He spoke around his cigarette and Levi rolled his eyes.

"I suppose." He agreed, eyes never leaving the man.

That was about the only words exchanged between the two, the ride was thankfully short. The carriage arrived to the castle just after noon, the coachmen opened the door for Levi and Zeke. The sunlight was bright and made Levi squint, it didn't help that the castle seemed to glow as the sun bounced off of it.

"This way old friend." Zeke instructed and Levi followed begrudgingly, Zeke led Levi through the halls and into a large ball room. The castle staff was scurrying about, carrying massive bouquets of flowers and other decorations in preparation for the summer gala. Levi had attended this very event many times over his career, but he had not intended on joining in this year. Zeke paused a few feet away from Erwin, who was standing before a young woman Levi had met a handful of times. You had aged in the past two years that he hadn't seen you, although you weren't any taller, he could see the age on your face. Much as he assumed you could see in his, you also carried yourself more confidently, shoulders back, chin up.

Erwin paused and turned to greet the two men, who both saluted him and you.

"Captain, how nice to see you." You hummed, a pleased glint in your eyes as you curtsied, much to his surprise.

"You as well Zeke." You seemed less excited to see the war chief.

"Princess, you look lovely." Zeke closed the distance between the two of you, taking your hand a bit too eagerly and bringing it to his lips. You smiled a bit tersely, but allowed it.

"Ah, and you look...as hairy as the last time we met." Your jab threw Levi off, but Erwin seemed to have expected the exchange. Zeke laughed heartily and pulled back.

"Such a sharp tongue on you princess." He chuckled and you shrugged, a smug grin on those lips of yours.

"You make it easy."

"Princess, you are aware that Levi is to accompany you to this year's gala yes?" Erwin steered the conversation in a more relevant direction and you nodded.

"Mhm, and I'm very excited to be escorted by Eldia's most eligible bachelor." Levi wasn't sure if you meant it sincerely, or if it was his turn to face the wrath of your sharp words.

"I'm sure you are." Erwin chuckled, his hand falling on the back of your tricep. You gathered your skirts and took a few steps closer to Levi.

"The last time we met, you weren't keen on dancing, I do hope that's changed." You smirked at him and Levi barely fought the flush off of his cheeks as you pushed past him.

"We can go in the drawing room and discuss logistics, the gala is a mere week away after all-" Levi tuned out whatever it was Erwin was babbling about, too focused on watching you saunter out of the room.

__

Levi spent the next week trailing behind Erwin, attending meetings and luncheons with other high ranking military members. It was boring, but nothing that he hadn't done before. The day of the gala, Hange arrived with the remaining of the 104th cadet corps. Levi felt great relief at seeing the familiar faces, Hange had eagerly came to hug him, and he pretended to hate it. Mikasa even came and gave him the briefest of embraces, Connie had been the most excited, throwing his arms around his former captain and squeezing him tightly. Armin had grinned sheepishly, and offered a small wave. Jean just nodded respectively in Levi's direction. Gabby and Falco had tagged along as well, wearing their best uniforms, decorated with their medals.

"I can't believe we get to come to the summer gala!" Connie gushed, his hazel eyes wide as he soaked in the castle in all of its glory.

"We won a war." Jean huffed, eyes sharp, hand fidgeting with his medal on his lapel.

"We lost more than we won." Mikasa murmured, her own shaky hands reaching for a scarf that was no longer wrapped around her neck. The cheery mood quickly dissipated at Mikasa's statement, Hange cleared their throat and clapped their hands in an attempt to drag everyone from their thoughts.

"Let's go meet Erwin then." They said, and Levi nodded.

"Let's." The group walked through the halls, Hange in the lead and Levi at their side, it felt like old times. The kids, well they weren't really kids anymore, were beginning to return to their annoying selves.

"-will we be able to eat the food?" Gabby asked, and Levi nearly flinched, the statement reminded him all too much of Sasha. Connie seemed less phased, he sighed and brought his arms behind his neck as they walked.

"I sure hope so."

"We're here on business." Mikasa reminded them and Jean hummed in agreement.

"We're here as representatives." Armin added, and Hange chuckled.

"Use this as an opportunity children." Hange cooed, pausing in front of the doors to the drawing room.

"Have some fun, get drunk, you've earned it." Hange then pushed the doors open, revealing the cozy drawing room, Erwin sat with his legs crossed in one of the arm chairs, a book in his lap. He closed the book and stood, his sleeve hanging limply where his arm once was.

"Cadets, erm or should I say captains." Erwin chuckled awkwardly as the kids all jumped to salute him, fists clenched over their hearts.

"Commander." They all greeted in unison.

"Sit, we have much to discuss."

__

The discussion was rather tame, a short bit of it had been relevant. Where the kids were to stand, what they were to say and how they were expected to act. The rest of the afternoon had been spent catching up and enjoying each other's company. Just a few hours before the guests were to arrive, Erwin sent the group off to find their spots.

Levi found himself waiting outside of your room, his watch gripped tightly in his fist, watching the minutes tick by. You emerged about fifteen minutes after him arriving, your dress was a deep emerald green, elegantly hugging your frame in all of the right places. You smoothed the silk gown skirts and smiled at him, the red lipstick on your lips making your teeth seem extra white.

"You look ravishing Captain." You complimented, accepting his arm before walking slowly down the hall, careful to keep his pace.

"...as do you." He choked out, a blush tickling his ears.

"Did you get all done up for me?" You pressed, hand tightening around his bicep.

"No." He answered, although he was partially lying, the truth was all he could think about as he dressed, was you. How would you be dressed? Was he to match you? Or was he expected to wear his usual military dress? He had opted for the latter, and it seemed to work well, the inky black dress coat and the gold medals that decorated his lapels seemed to compliment the emerald in your dress.

"Well, I sure hope that you will at least dance with me." You pouted, shooting him a hopeful look.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue, truthfully it was all that he could mange, he was nervous enough about joining you this evening. But you asking him to dance? He had never danced in his life, and with his legs in the state they were in now?

The two of you stopped, overlooking the ball room which was already filled with guests, milling about with flutes of champagne. You snuck a glance at Levi, who was looking down at the crowd with a bored glaze over his eyes.

"Ready?" You asked, squeezing his bicep once and he nodded, chin held high as the two of you slowly made your way down the staircase. Levi's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces, which he found in their designated spots. He knew that the king had asked him to accompany his daughter largely as a political move, not for protection as he had in the past. But old habits die hard, he double checked exits and kept an eye out for shady people, it was easier than looking at you after all. Not because you were ugly, rather the opposite, you were stunning and that intimidated him.

After at least forty five minutes of socializing, the dancing began and you tugged impatiently on his arm, which you had yet to let go of.

"Please Levi, just this once." You whispered so only he could hear, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at your closeness.

"Princess." He said sternly, although his voice did shake a tad, and you grinned, knowing that you had nearly convinced him.

"Captain." You countered, taking a step towards the dance floor.

"Just one." he said after a moment's hesitation before falling back in step with you.

"Just one." You affirmed with a wicked grin as you led him into the mass of bodies.

Levi felt his pulse race, his anxiety was roaring he had absolutely no clue how to dance, especially with his legs in the state that they were. You seemed to sense this, carefully taking his hand and resting it on your hip as you stepped ever so closely to him. Your chest was pressed against his, and he was sure that you could feel the pounding of his heart as it threatened to escape his ribcage.

"You just follow my lead." You whispered as he brought his other hand to rest naturally in the palm of yours. He nodded, eyes wandering down to glance at his feet, which were partially concealed by your skirts.

"It goes something like this, step-" You took a step towards him and he took one back.

"Then to the left," You instructed softly and he obliged, the two of you moving slightly out of sync.

"Then forwards again." You nodded as he stepped forwards and you stepped back, skirt swaying.

"Then to the right," You chuckled as his brows remained fixed in a tight knot as he tried to focus.

"Then we do it again." You seemed satisfied, and he nodded it was simple enough, although he could already feel the strain of the activity in his joints.

"Easy." He huffed, taking the lead and you giggled and fell into step with him.

"Tell me Levi, when you went across the ocean and fought those men, who were you fighting for?" The question caught him off guard and he nearly forgot the next step.

"That's an odd question." Levi shot you a mean look and you shrugged.

"I want to know what pushed Humanities strongest to be so strong." You answered, unfazed by his sour look.

"I fight for the people." He replied curtly and you sighed.

"That's a boring answer, I want to know what really drives you." You pressed and Levi frowned.

"Its the truth."

"Then tell me a lie." You raised a brow, challenging him and he screwed his nose up in distaste.

"Why would you want me to lie to you?" He asked out of genuine curiosity, no one had ever given him such a request.

"To spice some things up I guess." You hummed nonchalantly and squeezed your hand that held his.

"Then I would tell you I fought that war for you." He regretted the words, but you seemed to be pleased by them.

"Aw so you did think of me while we were apart." You cooed and Levi nearly broke away from you, but he only gripped your hand harder.

"You were the last thing on my mind." he huffed and you let out a throaty laugh. A lie, he thought of you often.

"You really are funny." You let your head fall affectionately into the crook of his neck and he swallowed thickly, as your scent washed over him.

"I didn't mean to be."

"I know, that's what makes it funny." Your breath tickled his neck as you spoke, you seemed to be in no hurry to pull away.

"Hmph." He hummed stupidly, unable to form words with you so close.

The song ended and you lifted your head, one of those wide grins sprawled across your lips.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" You whispered cheekily and he scoffed as the two of you exited the dance floor. You both found a seat at one of the tables set on the outskirts of the room, taking a break to drink and enjoy each others company.

Levi rubbed his knee under the table, the dance had truly taken a toll on him and he barely suppressed a groan. You noticed, shooting him a concerned look.

"Does it bother you often?" You asked, dragging your chair closer to his. He rolled his eye and pulled his hand slowly away from his leg.

"No."

"You're lying, just tell me the truth."

"I thought you wanted me to lie to you." He snapped back and you scoffed.

"Not about this." You reasoned and he sighed deeply.

"Yes, it hurts like a bitch." He turned to face you, his knee knocking yours and you frowned.

"You should've told me, I wouldn't have made you dance."

"I-" He paused, catching himself before the words left his mouth. But after one look at your open and concerned face he couldn't not say what he had been wanting to say.

"I wanted to." He admitted and your eyes widened a fraction.

"You...really wanted to?" Your words were raw and clearly Levi had caught you, the witty young princess off guard.

"I did."

"Would you do it again?"

"Yes."

"Hm." A smug look crossed your face and Levi scowled at you, not liking the way you seemed to be plotting something unbeknownst to him.

"What?" He snapped and you let out a short burst of laughter.

"I knew that you weren't lying when you said that you thought about me." You teased and he growled lowly under his breath.

"Maybe that was your last dance with me."

"Easy now, let's not be hasty, we have the whole night after all darling." You patted his shoulder, standing slowly and walking around the back of his chair to squeeze his shoulders before slipping off into the crowd.

He hoped that you meant it, that you would come back even if he could not dance with you again. He hoped that you had thought of him too, that his fighting had all been worth it. To spend the rest of his life by your side, even if he was just your guard or even a political ploy. He would do it for you, and he would do so happily.

[sombreboy]

Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I doing well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just to be his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would've made sure of it."

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

[secondhand-trash]

Put a Ring on It

A/N: I started it with the intention of writing a thirst post but it ended up being 1.7k of pure fluff lmao

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

Description: Miya Atsumu had a thing for wearing rings.

Word count: 1772

-

Miya Atsumu had a thing for wearing rings.

Maybe it was how he thought that they made his hands looked bigger, or how the accents never failed to draw even more attention to his slender fingers. Likely, it was just the way how most teenage boys went through a phase of wanting to look stylish and edgy without really bothering to look into having an actual style of their own, resulting in him halting a baggy t-shirt, cargo pants and an unnecessary amount of rings as the peak of men’s fashion. You had your own thoughts on how he was so determined to slip a ring or two into whatever he was wearing whenever he was out of his uniform. You made fun of his sense of fashion none stop, pointing to his bleached hair that has faded from the gold it was supposed to be into a sharp yellow and cheap chunky jewelry as the main culprit.

“You look like a delinquent who smokes cheap cigarettes in parks after school.”

You sniggered when he let out an offended ‘huh’. His chunky silver rings that had obnoxiously prominent carvings on the side brushed dug into the gap between your fingers as he squeezed your hand tighter when he snapped towards your direction. Your free hand, the one that wasn’t in a lock hold by his ring clad one, reached out to brush away his side-swooped bangs. His hair was fried from the boxed bleach he used regularly but as a side perk, the dryness did add to the volume of his hair.

He stood there still as you carefully pushed his hair back, his upper body leaning towards your direction just a little so you didn’t have to struggle to reach him despite his initial protests. You were messing with his hair and he was looking at you, only at you, with his fingers still linked with yours even though you always complained about his rings making it hard for you to hold his hand.

You finally pulled back and your gaze dropped from his bangs to his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when you met his eyes and they were full of you.

You cursed your weak heart for its sudden moment of swooning when he stood back up straight and his ring scratched against the inside of your finger.

You sighed, “You are so lucky you have a nice face so that people will be too caught up to notice how you dressed.”

Atsumu pretended he couldn’t hear the second half of the sentence and decided to focus on how you said he had a nice face instead.

But then you graduated from high school and he slowly started dressing less like a disastrous teenage boy and more like a proper adult. That athlete money did him well and he was finally able to dress the way he wanted to dress without having to turn into a questionable direction because of monetary limits. The baggy pants were gone from his closet, replaced with pants that actually fit his body and elevate things instead of holding back the visual upper hand he was supposed to have because of his physiques. He finally stopped bleaching his own hair after your many years of nagging but you nearly lost your composure when he showed up in front of your door to pick you up with his new hair for the first time.

“I got the stylist to trim my bangs for me,” he said as he ran his hand through the curl sitting at the side of his forehead and you gulped when you realised that his hair was soft enough for fingers to go through them with ease now, “I’m still trying to get used to not having things over my eye.”

“Oh?” you replied, your voice breathy as you tried to calm down your sea of thoughts at the sight of your boyfriend’s new look. 

You were aware that he was good looking, but everything that he was not born with used to be questionable so it balanced things out. Now he was wearing tight-fitted jeans that made his legs look even more toned as if it was even possible, with a white t-shirt that was tugged in loosely. He had a blazer on too, probably because you made him take you somewhere nice in celebration of his first VLeague cheque, but at this point you were almost certain he had that thing on just to drive you insane. 

And his hair, his god damn windswept fluffy no longer bright yellow hair.

“Do you think I should grow it longer?” he asked as he rubbed the tip of his bangs between the pads of his finger. The silver that sat at the bottom of his digits contrasted starkly with the pale gold and it finally dawned upon you that he stopped wearing the cheap rings you used to make fun of him for a while ago. 

Oh dear, now he was actually hot.

“No,” you blurted out, “it looks nicer this way.”

"You think so?” he asked as you forced your legs to move past your door before shutting it behind your back firmly. You had to force yourself to go out before the urge to make him come in could win, or else you would most certainly end up doing things that would make you miss your reservation.

And you had been excited to leech off of his athlete money.

“Yes, yes I do think so,” you said as you grabbed his hand to pull him along with you. 

You groaned in satisfaction when you realised his new rings did not stop you from sliding your fingers between his like the old ones did.

You started having fewer objections towards his choice of accessaries after his general fashion sense shifted for the better. You even started liking the rings after a while, crediting it to him opting for designs with more simplicity. You liked the way the metal was already warm from his heat when he put his hand on your thigh out of nowhere because he was bored, or when he was at the driver’s seat and the pad of his finger drummed against your skin steadily as he waited for the lights to change. The warmth of his hand always brought you security and he was well aware that nothing called your attention to him like it did. You were not even sure if he was aware, but he had a habit of toying with his rings whenever you were neglecting him because you had your attention on something else. The band he was playing with always ended up off his finger and up yours when you were least expecting it, the feeling of his calloused finger holding your hand as he slid it down always managed to call your gaze back to him.

‘What a child,’ you chuckled to yourself when he looked at you innocently like he could not be having any hidden thoughts, his hand still holding onto yours as he held the ring that was too large for your finger from falling down.

So being the child he was, who always couldn’t fathom the thought of letting you leave his side and was equally eager to let the world know he wasn’t leaving yours, it did not surprise you at all when you were tidying up your drawers one day to find a velvet box tugged all the way back into his sock drawer.

You had a feeling it was exactly what you thought it was, and you laughed at the image of him trying to find somewhere to hide it in the house while you were not around.

Of course, leave it up to Miya Atsumu to hide a ring at the back of his sock drawer because he thought it was the one place you wouldn’t look into unless you were left with no choice.

You giggled to yourself and closed the drawer, letting the box stayed right where it was.

You weren’t looking. You wanted to, but you weren’t. Because you knew he would whine to no end if you didn’t look as surprised as he wanted you to be when he finally showed it to you for real.

He still had no clue that you already knew it was coming when he got down on one knee and took the box out of his pocket with shaky hands. He cried when you said yes and you cried when he started crying, even though you had already rehearsed in your head for a million times on how you would say yes ever since you saw the velvet box inside of his sock drawer. 

He was still sobbing when he realised he needed to get up from the ground, wiping his tears away on the sleeve of his very expensive blazer before clumsily taking the ring out of the box to put it on your finger. Miya Atsumu was an ugly crier through and through and you finally admitted to yourself that you were a whipped fool when you still wanted to kiss his stupid face even though his eyes were swollen and he missed your finger a few times before finally getting the ring in.

“Now we match,” he said with a hiccup, laughing but sounding like he was about to break down into another round of tears as soon as the chuckle left his mouth, “you can’t make fun of my rings anymore.”

He was so dumb, and you felt like crying again when he took out an identical ring from his pocket and put it on his own hand. Who the hell does that? You wanted to laugh at him but you couldn’t, because you knew you would start sobbing again if you do that.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, grabbing his hand to steady him because he was shaking and you were sure he might just drop the ring if he kept fidgeting.

He sniffled, grinning ear to ear through his tears when he saw the ring that sat on your finger.

“So?” he said, happily holding your hand in his to look at how perfectly it fits, the rings and your hands, “You can’t get rid of me now, I got the ring to prove it.”

You huffed, but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling when he rubbed his fingers along his engagement ring like he was making sure that it was still there.

You decided that it would be your favourite ring of his until you get to put the wedding band onto his finger yourself.

[nagipops]

Denji and his s/o babysitting <3

BABY GIRL

FEATURING: denji!

SUMMARY: in which you and your baby-hating boyfriend embark on a secret mission too retrieve a pink plastic spoon.

WARNINGS: profanity, mentions of food

A/N: this is pure crack and chaos and i love it.

The image that came to mind for a “top secret mission” was definitely not the slobbering, babbling lump of a premature human wiggling around in front of you.

“I was expecting something a little more… menacing?”

“Hmph. Who does Aki think he is, assigning us to take care of this buggy caterpillar?”

You clapped a hand onto your boyfriend’s bony shoulder. “Well! Looks like it’s couple bonding day for us!”

“Ow, that hurt!” He swatted your hand away with a sweaty palm before he bashfully averted his gaze. “I… I hate babies. They scare me.”

“Hah! My brave, bold boyfriend… the almighty Chainsaw Man is afraid of mini adults?” You softly grasped his chin with your forefinger and thumb, fixing your eyes into a knowing gaze. “Good to know.”

You heard a grumble from behind you as you knelt down to meet the cooing baby at eye level. “Hello, Aiko, my boyfriend here is a big baby himself, so let’s all get along, alright?”

“Yaya!” The tiny girl waved her chubby arms in a gesture that looked suspiciously like she was pointing at the pouting boy behind you. “Ba-by!”

You flashed Denji a cheeky grin over your shoulder which was met with a dark scowl. “Yes, baby.” Snickering, you scooped the younger, smaller, diapered baby into your arms, lifting her up so she was face to face with the older, larger, hopefully-not-diapered baby. “This is Denji. Can you say Denji?”

“Benchee!” Aiko pressed her chubby little fingers onto your boyfriend’s face, smushing his eyes and nose under her tiny palm.

“Hey! I can’t— Bleh!” He struggled desperately as the baby giggled, mercilessly smacking his face. “Babe, help me out here?”

Chuckling, you pulled her into your chest once again. “Okay, Aiko, why don’t you go to papa’s arms for a little?”

“Papa— hey, if this is gonna be a new thing between us—” He stared in horror at the baby who was suddenly placed in his arms as his shoulders began to tremble. “Uhhhhhhhh…”

“Denji, hold still! Look up!” You centered his stunned face in the middle of your phone screen, snapping a barrage of photos of your bewildered boyfriend with a babbling baby in his arms. “Oh my god, this is adorable.”

“Stop taking— stop taking pictures and help me!” Aiko had begun to attack Denji’s face once again, yet this time, she was wailing like a siren with tears streaming down her chubby baby cheeks. His eyes widened with panic and fear as he frantically searched for something to distract her with. “She’s— shh, shh… don’t cry… (Y/N), she hates me!”

Grabbing what you hoped was her pacifier off of the coffee table in front of you, you tossed it to Denji who fumbled with it in one hand before plugging up the crying baby’s mouth with a pop.

Everyone in the room seemed to deflate at once, including Aiko.

“Ooookay, well, I think it’s time for a snack, because I’m hungry! You’re hungry too, right Denji?”

“No, actually before we came here I ate a slice of toast with—”

“I said, you’re hungry too, right Denji?”

He took one look into your pointed gaze and immediately caught on, bouncing the little girl in his arms. “Oh! Right, we are hungry, so let’s eat!”

Even Aiko seemed to perk up at that.

Denji stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the stocked refrigerator in front of him that was bursting at the seams.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Denji!” You clapped a hand over his mouth, casting a cautious glance at the baby over your shoulder. Sighing in relief to see her excitedly fiddling with a pink plastic spoon, you hissed into his ear, “Don’t swear!”

“Okay, okay! Sorry. But look at this, it’s heaven!” You could practically hear his voice melt as he slinked towards the refrigerator in a trance.

Dragging your boyfriend backwards by the back of his t-shirt, you slammed the fridge door shut. “Cut it out! She can’t even eat any of that stuff.” Grabbing his shoulders, you veered him to the marble countertops where an assortment of soft baby foods lay spread out.

His tongue immediately shot out of his mouth im disgust as he scanned the labels of the various jars. “Blech, spinach and pear? Cheese and carrot? Who’s designing this stuff?!” Seeming to search for the least grotesque flavor, his eyes lit up at a familiar label. “Ah, applesauce!”

“Sweet, let’s give that to her!” As Denji tossed the tiny cup into your hands, you ripped the lid off of the container and set it in front of Aiko, who was still fiddling with the plastic spoon in her hands. “Okay, time for yum-yums!” You attempted to reach for the pink utensil in her fubsy hands, but she immediately jerked it away from you. You tried to wrangle the spoon from her stubby little fingers once again, to no avail as she continued to wave it this way and that, just out of your reach.

Panting from the effort to steal this tiny plastic stick from a literal baby, you threw a helpless look over your shoulder at Denji, who was leaning against the fridge and observing the fiasco with a snickering grin. “Grab some popcorn, why don’t you. Help me!”

As if he was snapped back to reality as he realized who was barking commands to him, he immediately straightened his posture and performed a dedicated salute. “Yes, boss!”

Denji marched on over to the other side of Aiko’s high chair, so the two of you were surrounding her. “Nowhere to run,” he drawled in a low voice.

“We aren’t in a wild west movie, Denj.”

“Well, we should be!”

“Fine.” You cleared your throat, smothering your vocal cords with your best southern accent. “Quick draw, winner takes all.”

“You forgot to say, like, pardner or something.”

“If we were partners we wouldn’t be fighting in a quick draw!”

“Oh. Then, uh… cue tumbleweed, cue acoustic guitar music, cue countdown… On the count of three, three, two, one!”

“Three! Wait, wha—”

Denji lunged for the pink stick in Aiko’s grasp, but not before she could quickly jerk her arm away from him, giggling all the while. You took advantage of its positioning closer to your side and reached for the spoon, just as Aiko swung her arm to the other side, smacking Denji right in the center of his face with a thwack.

“Ow! Jeez, baby, why are you so strong?”

Aiko only chortled in response, clearly enjoying watching you two struggle to pry her weapon from her grasp.

“Damnit! Why is this stupid high chair— so— high?!” You waited for the rambunctious baby to rear the spoon back for another hit as Denji scrambled to regain his composure. “I got it!” you hollered as the spoon came just inches away from your face, reaching out to grab it, when—

“AHHHHHH!!!”

A spartan cry roared out as something barreled towards you at the speed of light, knocking you to the floor in a split second with a thunderous crack.

The wind kicked out of your lungs and pain seared throughout your entire body from the nape of your neck down to the tip of your tailbone. As you regained consciousness…

“What the— DENJI!” The bewildered face hovering over you was panting heavily as he braced himself with his arms planted on either side of your head. “What did you— oh my god, is the baby okay?!”

His astonished gaze shifted to his right hand, which he lifted to find a pink plastic prize inside. “I… I did it…” he breathed. His eyes widened as he remembered why the two of you were here in the first place. He rolled off of your body and onto his back, fixing his gaze on the high chair that was still upright.

A tiny giggle. “Hee hee! Benchee!”

The two of you lying on the kitchen floor sagged in relief at the confirmation that the baby in your temporary custody was, in fact, still alive.

“Denji… did you just tackle the love of your life to the ground, nearly giving them a concussion, just to retrieve a single plastic baby spoon?”

“Fuck yeah I did. I mean! Hell yeah I did! No, shit! Damnit! I uhhhh…”

“Yes, you did.” You patted Denji’s hand as the two of you lay side by side on the tiled kitchen floor, gazing up at the ceiling. “Yes, you did.”

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[plus-size-reader]

Perfect World

Gendry Waters x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2094 words

Warnings: Literally just fluff. I love this man so much, he’s like a teddy bear.

Summary: Having to keep your relationship with Gendry a secret because you're highborn and he isn't. 

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Your mother would lose her mind if she could see you right now.

This was hardly the place for a lady.

The air was thick with smoke from the large fire of the forge and you knew that you would surely stink of it when you got home. Still, there was nothing in the world that could have kept you away.

The allure of this place, of him, was simply too strong.

You had met Gendry by chance one day, walking through the square but since that moment, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. The entire situation was far too comical to slip your mind so easily.

He worked for a blacksmith, and by all accounts, shouldn’t have interested you in any way. Though, it was sort of hard to remain blind to his existence when he rescued you in the way he had.

You were walking the streets of Kings Landing as you had a million times, practically dancing about as you took in all the sights this place had to offer, all in ways that your mother would also find deplorable.

It wasn’t a place for a Lady.

...And while you would have usually assured her differently, telling her it was plenty ladylike, she seemed to have a point on that particular day.

You had gotten so caught up in the excitement of sneaking out and all the things the streets had to offer you that you hadn’t even noticed a block placed outside, directly in your path.

Right outside of Master Tobho Mott’s blacksmithing shop.

Your foot caught the block, and by all accounts, that should have been more than enough to send you tumbling to the ground.

Though, just as you should have hit the dirt, you found yourself stopped, held tightly by a man you’d never seen before. He had a rather tight grip on your arm, something he noticed as soon as you stood back up.

There was a black soot handprint left on your skin, further proof of what he’d done.

They could have taken his head for that alone, laying his grimy hands on a highborn lady like you, but you hardly seemed scandalised at his action. In fact, when you stood up, you had a smile on your face.

Like you were having the grandest time in the world.

It made quite the impression on both of you.

You sat there, somehow more intrigued by this place and this man than you had been by anything outside, for hours. You talked and laughed, and when he finally relaxed about the whole thing, Gendry found himself having fun too.

It was hard not to be with you around.

All his life, he’d had this idea about what high borns were supposed to be like, based on how they treated him. As a poor bastard, no one had a better idea of how people really were than he did, but you were different.  

For a high born, you weren’t as stuffy and vile as he assumed you’d be.

You had a clever wit, and didn’t seem to care much at all for the expected formalities that were expected of you. That was because you didn’t, of course, but you couldn’t rightfully admit that to him.

After all, just because you were having all the fun in the world out in the open, you weren’t dull.

If anyone else found out about what you were doing outside the castle walls, under the watchful eye of your mother and father, there would be hell to pay. Not to mention how they would react if they found out who you’d taken to spending time with.

Though, that was what gave what you were doing now such appeal.

In the weeks that followed that initial chance encounter you’d have with the bastard, Gendry Waters, you’d been sneaking out just to see him again.

It was hardly something you had any business doing, but that was part of the fun. All your life, everyone made it their personal responsibility to tell you who to be and what to do, down to who you could talk to or how you could act.

Gendry didn’t.

He wouldn’t have known where to start if he wanted to command you. Besides, getting to spend time in the dark, dingy backroom of the smithy had given you the perfect place to hide from your family.

No one would ever assume a classy young woman like yourself with royal blood would ever take to spending time in such a place.

“Are you out of your mind? The Master has only just left” Gendry tutted, his head snapping in the direction of the storefront, where Master Mott had just taken his leave not even a moment prior.

It was by far the closest you two had ever been to being found out here, but you didn't care about that.

All you cared about was seeing Gendry again today.

“The old man didn’t see me, relax” you hummed, a small smile on your face as you took in the way his brow furrowed as he looked at you. He was always so serious about things, something you didn’t understand.

Though, you never had.

In your life, you never had to worry about things falling on your shoulders, or having to take care of yourself. You didn’t understand life in the way he did, and frankly, you had no reason to want to.

Life was much more fun your way.

“Though, perhaps I should go say hello to him before he gets too far away-” you teased, making your way past him slowly, as if you were actually going to go blow the biggest secret you two had.

It wasn’t funny.

Gendry didn’t think it was funny at all.

Not that you would have known based on the way he grabbed hold of you as you neared him, his hands coming to rest on your waist in a desperate attempt to keep you still. You wouldn’t have done it, you both knew that, but the point was still there.

You didn’t understand how serious this was.

“That’s not funny” he mumbled, ignoring the fact that his hands, covered in ash and dust, were surely dirtying your dress. How you managed to keep this all a secret from your family, he wasn’t sure.

There was more than enough evidence of what you did when you snuck out left behind.

“It would be if you laughed” you countered, tilting your chin up enough to close the bit of space between your faces.

The shop was small as it was, full to the brim with dense air, heated by the forge, which had you close together to begin with but that wasn’t the real reason for the close contact. You both knew it, but didn’t bother to amend it.

It was going to get you into trouble if someone saw you, but there was no one around.

No one even knew you were here.

Which was what you’d been ensuring Gendry of every chance you got since you two had started growing closer, romantically.

Not that he was all together convinced, even now.

Unlike you, Gendry lived in the real world. He understood the consequences of what you were doing and that no matter how fond he was of you, there was no future in which the two of you could be together.

He was of no title, and had no castle for you to rule by his side. There was no way around the unfortunate truth, that a lady had no place in the arms of a blacksmithing bastard.

After all, you saw what he did to your dresses each time you came here. He wasn't designed to be around pristine, perfect things, of which you were.

It was for the best you stayed apart, but you just kept coming back.

It was almost as if every time he told you that you needed to go home and stay there, or that you had to stay away from this place because it was dangerous, because you would get hurt, you came around that much more.

You just didn’t like to be told what to do.

How you’d managed to live in that stuffy castle all these years, he wasn’t sure.

“You understand that you can’t keep coming here? Someone is going to find out, and who knows what they’ll think we’ve been up to” he muttered, repeating himself once more, his hand falling gingerly on your cheek. You knew perfectly well how he felt about you coming here, but it wasn’t like he was showing you the door.

He just wanted you to know that he knew what a risk this was.

“What have we been up to, blacksmith?” you grinned, separating the two of you just enough to show off the blacken imprint on your clothes and now, your skin.

The people were bound to draw their own conclusions when they saw you, in the state you were in, but that was why you were so cautious about this entire thing. You hadn’t gotten caught yet, and you weren’t planning on ever letting that happen.

The threat to him was too great, but that didn’t mean it was worth you never seeing him again.

Your moving away from him instantly made Gendry panic, because as much as he didn’t want your reputation tarnished, he was more concerned about your physical safety.

This place wasn’t designed for this, after all.

“Would you stay away from that? You’re going to get yourself hurt” he sighed, understanding exactly what you were doing after he reached for you again. Each step you took, each move you made, was designed to antagonize him.

You were playing a game.

Of course you were.

You knew perfectly well that Gendry wasn’t going to let you get hurt, and seeing as this entire place was quite dangerous for a lady like yourself, he had to keep you close to him to make sure that didn’t happen.

It was all part of your devious little place.

“You sneaky thing” he tutted, a small smile creeping onto his own lips as he found you once again pressed against his frame, both hands holding your forearms just tightly enough to keep you from stepping back.

This was bound to cause you both trouble in the long run, could even get him killed if it went too far along, but right now, you were here. You were right in front of him, as beautiful as ever in the fires glow, and he couldn’t rightfully shoo you out.

He was a man after all.

He would have had to have been mad to do something like that.

You started to say something, likely snide or teasing as you always did, but before you could even get a word out, Gendry put an end to it. You would have to go before too long, before anyone noticed you weren’t locked away in your study.

Gendry smelled of sulfur and metal, his breathing hard against you as you tried to focus on anything with his lips against your own.

The kiss you shared even took you by surprise, even if you had been practically begging him to do it since you arrived, and you jumped a bit. Thankfully, you couldn’t go anywhere due to his still keeping a hold on you.

It was nice, as far as first kisses went, not that you had anything to compare it to.

You weren’t exactly in a position to go about kissing and galavanting with every man in King's Landing, but in that moment, you were sure that didn't matter. It was surely a kiss to end all others, and you knew that was because of him.

Technically, he was little more than a bastard but in the weeks you’d been showing up here, content to just bother him as you had, that couldn't have been further from your mind.

“Now get out of here before you get burned or something” he ordered, though that would have been pretty difficult to manage, considering he still hadn’t let go of you, his hands now held to your waist.

In a perfect world, he never would have let go.

He never would have caught you in the street, or let his lips touch yours in what only could be described as the most beautiful torture.

He never would have done any of it, but Gendry knew better than anyone that this world you lived in was anything but perfect.