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#i want to weave my own fabrics and make pretty dresses
mynameismckenziemae · 4 months
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Intimate History Part II
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The three of you make it inside. It’s better than you think ever could’ve imagined, but you weren’t expecting the feelings involved.
Jake Seresin x you x Bradley Bradshaw
Read part I here
Warnings: MMF, smut, oral (m and f receiving), dacryphilia, boys kissing, spanking, feelings, aftercare, creampies (wrap it before you tap it), dom/sub, sub!jake seresin, dirty talk, humiliation, lmk if I missed anything—I used Grammarly this time, so my spelling/punctuation/grammatical errors should be better 🤞
"I just came in my fucking pants".
You glanced down and sure enough, there was a wet spot growing on Jake’s jeans. It rivaled the one between your legs. Speaking of, you needed to get off of Roo’s leather seats before it soaked through.
“Wanna take this inside?” Rooster asks, turning your chin towards him for a kiss.
“Before we do, if anyone gets uncomfortable, or wants to slow down or stop, we’ll use the color system, yeah?” You ask.
They both agree.
“Good, then let’s go.” You reply with a smile.
You follow Jake, jumping on his back for a piggyback ride. “You know you’re not off the hook yet, right? Especially after cumming without permission in the truck” you breathe into his ear, biting the lobe. He shudders at your threat.
As soon as your feet touch the floor of the entryway, Bradley’s on you from behind, lifting your dress over your head, tossing the offending piece of fabric at Jake. He pushes his already hardening cock against your ass as he bites up your neck, his left hand pinching a nipple, the other straight between your legs, gathering your wetness to circle your clit. It only takes a few swipes and you’re cumming around his fingers, eyes locked on Jake’s.
“Show me the way to your bedroom, I wanna get my mouth on you”, Bradley says, landing a sharp slap to your ass. It startles you into motion, and as you brush past Jake, you let your fingers trail across his chest. You can feel the weight of their gazes on your naked body as you stop in the doorway. “Coming?”
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As you push yourself up the bed, Bradley catches Jake by the hand, jerking him around into a kiss. They both groan, years of pent-up tension poured into their kiss. Bradley unbuttons Jake’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders before doing the same to his own. Their jeans are next to go, Bradley pulling Jake’s boxer briefs with them.
You felt like you were about to combust; their bodies were both so tan and sculpted, the heavy breathing and grunts. You reached a hand down to relieve some of the tension building again.
Bradley pushes Jake into the chair in the corner, kneeling to suck the head of his cock. “Fuck,” Jake moans, noticing you and what your hand is doing between your legs. “Oh sweetheart, you look so good touching your pretty pussy.” Jake’s words draw a groan from Bradley, still working Jake over.
A wicked idea comes to mind. You reach into your bedside table and pull it out. “Roo, don’t let him come, he hasn’t earned it”.
Bradley pulls off him with a pop, you hand him the vibrating cock ring from the drawer.
“Bradley’s going to put this on you. Your arms stay on the rests until I say otherwise. If you don’t, you won’t come again tonight. Got it?”
Jake sucks in a breath. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” You say quirking a brow at him.
His eyes close, a flush rushing up his chest and neck. “Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.”
“Holy shit,” Bradley whispers.
Bradley rolls the ring onto Jake, being merciful and turning it on the lowest setting. Jake jolts, but his hands don’t leave the rests. “Good boy”, you purr.
Bradley stalks over you, tossing you back into the pillows. He kicks off his boxers and climbs over you, stealing a kiss. His mustache scratches as sucks a nipple into his mouth, lightly pinching the other. Your hands weave into his hair and he moans. He continues his way south, sucking a bruise into your upper thigh. You’re lifting your hips, silently begging him to put his mouth on you. “Please Bradley, I want your mouth on me” You whine.
“Well, since you said please” he winks up at you.
“Ohmygod, Roo!,” you keen as he dives in. He eats pussy like a man starved; his face is soaked— he’s not just using his tongue, but his chin, mustache, and nose too. Your hands fly into his hair and you tug, it’s just too good. He groans, as his right-hand leaves your hip, bringing it between your legs to push his index and middle finger in. He turns them and curls them to rub your g spot. “Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop” you wail.
You steal a glance at Jake, his knuckles white with the effort to keep them where you asked. He’s not looking at you though, his gaze is fixed on Bradley’s tight ass, watching it clench and release as he dry humps your comforter; trying to find some relief.
Knowing he’s that turned on by giving you pleasure is enough to push you over the edge. Your back arches, legs lock around his ears and the tight grip you have on his hair somehow tightens further. “Oh god yes!” Bradley licks you through it, slowing down as the overstimulation sets in.
“Fuck” you laugh as he sits up, using your wetness as lube to stroke himself.
He pulls you into a kiss and lays you back, his cock hanging heavy between you two. You grasp him, dragging him through the wetness to help guide him in.
“Shit, wait. I’ve got condoms in my jeans” Bradley says, starting to sit up. You wrap your legs around him, catching his head on your entrance.
You had discussed this with Jake while they were deployed and knew he wanted Bradley to fuck you bare—if he was okay with it. “We’re both clean, and I’ve got an IUD.”
“I am too, I had a complete physical and testing done when Jake did before we deployed,” Bradley said, glancing at Jake, “Are you both sure? I’ve never done it without a condom”.
You clenched at the thought of being his first. You look at Jake and he nods.
“We’re sure. If you are” you say.
He nods and you tighten your legs on his hips, guiding him inside you. “Christ you’re so tight and warm, and wet, and tighttttt” he groans, pulling back to thrust in a little deeper. Jake whines from the chair.
He fucks into you for a short few minutes, grunting into your ear with each thrust, but his hips are stuttering already, “Fuck, you feel too good, I’m gonna cum” he grits out.
You reach between and grab the base of his cock, staving off his orgasms. “Not yet”, you say as you pull him out. It’s Bradley’s turn to whine now.
You push him over onto his back and encourage him to sit up against the pillows.
Swinging a leg over his hips, you drop down on him and start riding him in reverse cowgirl style.
“Come here, naughty boy” you crook your finger at Jake. His eyes drift close as he slowly rises from the chair, the movement making the cock ring shift so the vibrations are worse in his balls. He takes a deep breath to compose himself and climbs up the bed.
“Have you learned your lesson?” You ask, skirting your fingers down your chest to loosely circle him. “Yes ma’am” he nods.
“Good. If you can make me cum before Roo does, I’ll let you fuck me next” you say, as you click the vibrations up a setting higher.
Jake’s head drops, fighting the increased torture you’re putting him through. “Goddamnit, okay. Yes ma’am.”
He drops onto goes stomach and gets to work, tonguing your clit with no mercy. Your hips stutter as your pussy clenches around Bradley like a vice, pulling a choked noise from his throat. Jake’s hips rut against the bed, seeking more friction, while simultaneously avoiding too much from the cock ring.
Jake replaces his tongue with his fingers, drawing circles around your clit while his mouth drops further south to gently mouth at Bradley’s sac. “Fuckfuckfuck, I’m gonna blow.” Bradley cries. You halt your movements on the way up, leaving only the head of his cock inside you, and shake your head at Jake so he stops too. “Not yet”, you grin over your shoulder, edging him again.
“Christ, you’re both gonna be the death of me” Bradley grits out, his grip on your hips bruising now.
“Color?” You ask him. “Green baby, it’s just been a while and you feel too good” Bradley whines.
You wink down at Jake and slowly sink back down, while Jake resumes licking at his sac, bringing a hand up to coat his fingers in your wetness then down past Bradley's balls in his mouth and start pressing into Bradley’s ass, using your arousal as lube.
Bradley jolts behind you. “What’re you doi—Jesus!” he says as Jake adds another finger, gently thrusting in and out.
“I—I can’t stop, I can’t, I’m sorry!” Bradley keens. You nod, permitting Jake to make him cum. Jake glides his mouth back up to suck your clit into his mouth and presses directly on Bradley’s prostate.
“FUCK!” Bradley cries, his back arched as he pulls your hips flush to his, cumming hard. His orgasm sets off yours as Jake is relentlessly still sucking your clit. Your hands fly to pull Jake’s hair as your pussy milks Bradley for everything he’s worth.
Bradley is reluctant to let you go, but as you come down from your high you notice Jake’s hips are grinding incessantly against the bed. He’s face down hands, mumbling something and white-knuckling the bedspread.
You squeeze Bradley’s hand as you climb off him, his cum dripping out. You tilt Jake’s chin up to ask him what’s wrong.
You’re surprised to see tears leaking from his eyes, but what really shocks you is how his tears make you clench, hungry for more.
“I’m sorry ma’am. I just wanna fuck you, I missed you so much and it hurts. I know you said I couldn’t if Roo came before you and I tried but he came first. I’m so sorr—“. You silence him with a kiss. You loved to torture him, and he cries so pretty, but you’d never want to cause him actual pain…not pain that he didn’t want at least. “We’ll call it a tie”.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He says against your lips, pushing you to lay back. He pushes into you with ease, resting his head on your shoulder. “I love you”.
“I love you too,” you say with a kiss to his temple. A hand turns your chin, and Bradley is kissing you. So much being said without any words and your heart flutters.
Jake lifts his head and Bradley releases your lips your kiss to capture Jake’s. You whimper, clenching around Jake, knowing you will never get tired of seeing them together.
Bradley’s hand trails down Jake’s back, kneading and squeezing his ass, while yours drags down his front, turning the cock ring up to the highest setting, knowing you both were getting close already.
“C’mon princess, get her there. Show me how good you can be,” Bradley coos, landing a solid swat to Jake’s right cheek.
Jake sobs, pounding into you harder, his tears dripping onto your face. The vibrations from the cock ring and Jake’s reaction send you hurtling off the edge. You keen, dragging your nails down Jake’s back, leaving a trail of red marks.
Bradley delivers a final, harsh spank to Jake’s left side, “There she goes. Good boy”.
With that, Jake’s cumming too, groaning low in your ear as he fills you up.
“Offoffoffoff please, it’s too much,” he’s whimpering seconds later, the overstimulation from the cock ring quickly becoming too much.
You flick it off and he collapses next to you on his stomach with a satisfied smile.
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You vaguely register movement on the bed a few minutes later, still recovering.
Bradley walks over and gently wipes his and Jake’s spend from between your legs and thighs with a warm washcloth. The tenderness in his touch makes your heart squeeze. “Thanks, Roo,” you say softly.
‘Course, sweetheart”, he replies, shifting his attention to Jake next.
He leans down and presses his lips to both handprints he left on each cheek, causing Jake’s body to break out into goosebumps and sending a shiver through him. “Turn over and let me clean you up”, Bradley whispers, helping him roll over.
Deciding to give them a moment together (if you’re being honest—you need a minute too), you head to the bathroom, unable to stop your thoughts. You couldn’t help but hope this wasn’t a one-time thing.
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You quickly rinse off in the shower, pulling on a new pair of Jake’s boxer briefs, not bothering with a shirt as you walk back into the bedroom. Jake’s slipped on a pair of lounge pants and reclining back on the pillows, Bradley’s pulling his jeans back on.
Your stomach drops thinking of Bradley going home to a quiet house, no one there to welcome him home. “Do you want to stay?” You ask.
Bradley looks at Jake, unsure what to think, not wanting to impose. Jake nods. “You can be the little spoon”.
Bradley snorts, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, okay” and kicks his jeans off. You pick up Bradley’s wife-beater off the floor, slip it over your head, and crawl in the middle, opening your arms for him to climb into.
Truth be told, Bradley didn’t mind being the little spoon one bit.
________________________________________
You wake up on your back, feeling warm, but a little weighed down. You crack open an eye to see both Jake and Bradley fast asleep on your chest, holding hands.
You melt and think, “Yeah, this wasn’t just a one-time thing.”
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20dollarlolita · 6 months
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Steal this look:
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Recently, I've been feeling the need to build a few more easy and cheap lolita tutorials. In the interest of getting back to the budget lolita roots, I thought it was time to give this old post a remake:
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[image caption: Family came over and I didn't want to leave my room so I made a headband with hot glue. Posted 8 years ago on Jan 3, 2015]
So, today I made a headband with hot glue. I didn't take pictures, but here's a rough run through of what I used, so you can make one too:
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a 2" wide headband, which seem to run about $8, which is a lot more than I expected. Inflation's a bitch. Going to have to change the blog to 50dollarlolita to keep up.
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This project did not remotely take 54 yards of cluny lace, but honestly if you're going to make handmade lolita, you should buy 54 yards of cluny lace. (I have not bought from this listing, but it looks pretty legit). If we math it out per yard, it used about 40 cents worth of lace.
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I have actually bought this ribbon in multiple colors. Once again, it's a really good thing to have on hand if you make lolita. If you only buy one color, I recommend buying the color that you can use for the back lacing of most of the dresses you own. Those ribbons always seem to get lost when I do laundry, and it's also an easy way to pick a color that you'll use for accessories. $6 for 100 yards comes out to about 12 cents worth of ribbon.
I can't begin to fully articulate how valuable having trims available is for making handmade lolita. Lolita fashion is all about putting as many details into a garment as you can tastefully add, and being able to "Oh, this would be nice to have a ribbon! Oh, this would be nice with a line of lace!" can really help you push your designs to the right level of detail.
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Fake flower heads and leaf ribbon. I almost didn't include the leaf ribbon in this list, but I think it really added something. I don't find a ton of need for this in lolita fashion, but it seems the smallest amount you can buy is like 20 yards. (I actually got my flowers and leaf ribbon from a cheap flower crown, but it seems you have to buy the flower crowns in packs of 10, making it more expensive than getting the components).
The flowers that I have on my headband came with a little felt tab on the back, which made them easier to glue. It might be worth it to glue a felt strip onto the plastic stem, and then glue that onto the headband.
I'm not going to count the selvedge edge of the fabric that i had lying around. You probably also have fabric scraps lying around.
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Assembly strategy is a little bit up to you, but here's my thoughts:
I wrapped the headband with a scrap of fabric, and then wrapped ribbon around that in the other direction. In addition to looking nice, I think that wrapping in opposite directions is going to make the fabric wrap stronger. The front ruffle is just a 1.5-2" wide lace (I didn't measure) that was sloppily pleated. Each pleat was tacked down with hot glue.
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To cover the sloppy pleats, I stuck a piece of lace over the pleated edge. This smoothed things out, and I believe that will also help reduce damage to the ruffle. The lace here is beading lace, which is intended for you to weave a ribbon through. The only ribbon I had was too wide, so I just glued the beading on top and hoped no one would notice. Spoiler alert: no one did.
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What I've noticed on these kinds of accessories is that they need two things to feel complete: they need some kind of element to frame the face and make the headband visible from the front, and they need a large accessory at each ear. This isn't universally true for all substyles, but I've found that in general, it's what I shoot for.
I had an old flower crown from a party, so i just cut some roses and leaves off that crown and stuck them on the sides. I added some little ribbon bows to help sell the "this is not me cheating at beading lace" illusion.
(If you're looking for inspiration for doing this without a ruffle or a side focus, and you don't know where to start looking, I'd start with Innocent World and Moi Meme Moitie).
If you're buying ALL the components listed here, so buying all 50+ yards of lace and 100 yards of ribbon, it's going to be $37. This is a lot, but it's cheaper than a taobao headdress once you factor in shipping. If we only count the cost of what will be used in the headband, it comes out to about $13. I really cannot express enough how much having lace and ribbon on hand will improve your handmade lolita life, so if you're looking for an excuse to buy a lot of lace, here's your excuse.
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And that's it! Put it on your head and you're good to go out into the world!
I think this is a great improvement over the one I made 8 years ago, although the other one did a better job at avoiding my family.
Just a quick note about building with hot glue: less is more. It's easier to hid small dots than to hide big long lines. Get a silicone thimble and really push your glued material into the glue (note: i live on the edge and just lick my finger and smooth it down, and I get burned a lot). The more texture an item has, the more likely it'll glue well. How your piece is structured will impact its longevity, so think about the strongest possible way to construct something. And if you don't like hot glue, but still want to make this, my suggestion would be to use Aleen's Super Fabric Adhesive and letting it cure between steps. My other hot glue advice is that if your design is a mess, good construction won't save you, and if your glue is a mess, good design won't save you. So this is a case where hot glue is already saving you 96 hours of cure time, so respect it and be careful.
I made this to coordinate with this dress, because the dress has some pretty modern elements like the rose trim and the sleeves, that want to push it into being a very extravagant dress, but it also don't have enough room to be very poofy (not that I'm wearing a petticoat anyway, but y'all know what I mean). I don't know how to articulate the difference between silky polyester lolita dresses and old cotton twill lolita dresses, but this is definitely better with the silky poly than the cotton twill.
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lendeah · 3 months
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After the Weave 3.
series masterlist
Summary: Elara and Astarion go to the ball with the aim of securing support, but navigating high society comes with its own set of perils.
Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav
Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD.
Word count: 4.3k
Also on AO3
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"Godlike power, perhaps I can live without, but you?
You're everything"
The memory tugs at my mind, that moment beneath the rich purple sky, when everything felt within my grasp beside him. I can still see it clearly - the way his eyes gazed at me, filled with adoration and vows of forever. But now, as I finish tightening the corset with a sharp pull, the long red ball gown hugging my curves perfectly, I realize that those were just empty promises. Lies upon lies.
The crimson silk hugs my curves beautifully, though as I walk the long halls, each step becomes a battle against the uncomfortable fabric that makes me trip repeatedly. A beautiful dress indeed, but one that brings discomfort and pain with every move. Just like Gale's love.
Astarion is waiting by the entrance, looking as disinterested as ever, his face a mask of boredom. He is dressed in a crimson and black suit that hugs his form in all the right places. I can't help but admire how the fabric accentuates his lithe frame, the way it compliments his pale skin and emphasizes the white of his curls.
As his eyes finally land on me, something changes in them. There's a flicker of surprise and admiration before he quickly masks it with his usual sneer.
"That is a nice dress, I wonder who made it. They sure are talented, for making you of all people look regal."
I roll my eyes, "I don't even know how they got all my measures right. I mean, I don't think anyone has ever measured me, to begin with."
Astarion smirks, his eyes roaming over my form with a hint of amusement."Ah, well, I do recall taking your measurements once. However, that was quite some time ago, my dear, so you may have forgotten it."
I frown, and then a flicker of a memory flashes through my mind, and I can see Astarion's skilled fingers and his concentrated expression as he took my measurements with meticulous precision.
"You shared my measurements with a seamstress to make this dress?" I ask, surprised that he went to such great lengths for our work at the grand ball.
Astarion's eyes become unreadable for a second, and then he nods. "Yes, of course. It wouldn't do for you to arrive at the ball looking anything less than perfect." His tone is laced with sarcasm, but I can sense a hint of sincerity behind his words.
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "You never cease to surprise me, bloodsucker." I say, approaching him slowly. "Thank you for your help."
His smirk softens into a small smile and he bows slightly in response. "It was my pleasure, Lady Elara."
His voice is dripping with mock formality, and I can't help but chuckle at his antics. I gesture towards the door. "Shall we, Sir. Ancunín?"
Astarion extends his arm to me like a gentleman, and I take it gratefully, feeling strangely comforted by his touch.
Just as we are about to step into the grand carriage, he stops and turns to face me once again. "Are you absolutely certain about this? We can stay here if you'd like, especially after... the missive."
I wince to myself. I knew he would want to talk about the letter sooner or later, but I thought I had done a pretty good job avoiding the subject for the past few days. Aparently, it hadn't been enough.
"Yes, I'm sure. The sooner we get this over with, the better." I say dismissively.
He looks at me intently, his eyes searching for any signs of hesitation or doubt. Then, his expression softens as he nods in understanding. "Very well then, shall we go?"
We climb into the grand carriage, and make our way towards the palace where the ball is being held. The ride is a quiet one, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I steal subtle glances at the man in front of me. He looks mesmerizing, as always, with his white, tousled hair falling just so over his forehead, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. His crimson eyes, usually filled with mischief, now hold a hint of worry that he's trying to conceal, and I have to fight the urge to smooth the lines that have formed in his forehead.
I catch myself staring and quickly avert my gaze, focusing on the passing scenery outside the carriage window. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery glow on the city. Lately I feel like I'm constantly living in the night, between the walls of the Palace. I guess that is how Astarion's life has felt in the last few months, back in the shadows without the tadpole giving him immunity to the sunlight. I can't help but pity him, as the memories of his pale body basking in the morning light flash through my mind.
As we near the palace, Astarion finally breaks the silence between us. His voice is softer than before, almost hesitant.
"When was the last time you practiced the art of sorcery?" he asks, with his eyes still fixed on the window.
I feel myself freeze up at the question. It's been months since Gale left, and with him went my motivation to even touch a spellbook or scroll. Every hint of magic reminded me of him, and I couldn't bring myself to face that pain again.
"It's been a while," I admit reluctantly. "Since Gale left."
Astarion nods in understanding, but there is a hint of dissatisfaction in his expression. "That's a shame. You were good," he says firmly, finally looking at me.
I meet his gaze, feeling a mixture of gratitude and irritation. Astarion always had a way of cutting through the chaos in my mind and speaking truths that I didn't want to confront. He was right, of course. I had allowed Gale's departure to shatter not only my heart but also my connection to magic. A wave of regret washes over me as I realize how easily I had let go of something I loved so much, how easily I had forgotten myself.
"I know," I reply, my tone softer than I anticipated. "It's just... difficult. Every time I try to conjure a spell or tap into that part of myself, I can't help but think of him."
"Ah, I understand the pain of reminders all too well," he murmurs with a wry smile. "But Elara, you cannot let him, or anyone for that matter, define who you are or what you're capable of. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for."
His words stir something within me, an ember of determination that has been smoldering beneath the ashes of heartbreak. Perhaps he's right. Perhaps it's time to reclaim my magic. But not now, I tell myself, there would be time for that after we finish doing what we came here to do.
As we step out of the carriage and into the entrance of the castle, my mouth falls open. I didn't even know such extensive grounds could fit in Baldur's Gate's narrow streets. The palace, lit up by hundreds of lanterns and torches, looks like something out of a fairytale. The gardens are filled with colorful flowers and fountains, and the marble steps leading to the entrance are lined with statues of ancient gods.
Astarion catches me staring in awe and smirks. "Remarkable, isn't it? A chance to join the illustrious Duke at his grand ball is a rare privilege indeed."
"Wait, Duke? As in Duke Ravengaard? As in, Wyll's dad?"
Astarion nods, "Yes, the very same. I'm surprised you didn't know, it must've slipped my mind to tell you." But the mischief in his eyes tells me he most definitely didn't.
As we make our way into the grand ballroom, I find out the grand hall is just as breathtaking as the exterior. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm golden glow on everything below. People dressed in extravagant gowns and suits dance to music played by musicians in one corner of the room. As Astarion and I enter the room, all eyes turn towards us with a flurry of emotion. Some gaze at us with curious intrigue, while others openly display their desire. But the dominant reaction is one of pure fear, evident in the way they shrink back and avoid eye contact.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have resurfaced at the sight of so many eyes on us. Astarion must sense this, because he takes my hand on his cold one and squeezes it reassuringly.
"Relax," he whispers with a smile. "Just be your usual 'Savior of Baldur's Gate' self and you will be more than fine."
As we reach the ballroom, I can see it is filled with high-ranking officials, nobles and other powerful figures, all dressed in their finest attire. I try to remember the individuals Astarion had taught me about, but there are too many and the names and occupations are mixing in my brain. In a sea of unfamiliar faces, one stands out amongst the rest. Duke Ravengard approaches us, with a welcoming smile dancing on his lips. He reminds me so much of Wyll that a wave of emotions hit me like a punch to the gut.
Before I can even say anything, Astarion steps forward and greets the man with a respectful bow. "Your Grace," he says smoothly, "allow me to introduce the Savior of Baldur's Gate. Rumor has it, she once saved you from certain death in the not-so-distant past."
I feel my cheeks heat up at the remark. The Duke's eyes widen in recognition before a warm smile forms on his lips.
"Ah, Elara. What an honor to see you again," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I've heard tales of your brave deeds for our city, and we are all in your debt."
I manage to give him a small smile and a nod.
"It was a pleasure, sir."
He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Modesty becomes you, my dear." He says with a smile. A flicker of sadness appeared in his eyes as he asked "Have you happened upon any news of my son? I recall that the two of you were once close friends."
My heart sinks at the mention of Wyll. I haven't heard from him since he left for the Avernus with Karlac, but seeing how important Duke Ravengard is to him, I decide to be honest.
"I'm afraid I haven't heard from Wyll in quite some time."
The Duke's expression falls slightly but he nods understandingly. "I see. Well, if you do happen to come across him in your travels, please let him know that his father misses him dearly."
"I will," I promise solemnly.
He pauses for a second, and then adds "But let us not dwell on the past tonight. This is a night of celebration and joy!"
As the Duke leads us further into the ballroom, Astarion walks beside me, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and mischief. "Well, well, Lady Elara," he whispers. "How greedy you are, relishing in all the glory"
I roll my eyes at his teasing remark but can't help but feel a sense of pride bubbling within me. Standing in the midst of power and privilege, I can't help but feel that maybe I do deserve this recognition.
As we continue to mingle among the crowd, a smooth voice catches my attention. I turn to see a blonde elf woman approaching us, drink in hand.
"Ah, Astarion, dearest," she says with a charming smile as she reaches us. "What a pleasure to meet you again."
Astarion smiles back at her and gives her a slight bow. "The pleasure is all mine, Lady Shaphyra."
I remember now. Her name is Lady Shaphyra Boldsong, daughter of one of the most influential elven families in Baldur's Gate. And she and Astarion seem to know each other quite well, by the looks of it.
"I see you have brought a lovely companion with you," she says, turning her gaze towards me. "The Savior of Baldur's Gate, no less. And she is a half-elf! What a delightful surprise."
I feel my cheeks flush once again as I am introduced for the second time tonight. But Lady Saphyra doesn't seem to mind as she bows towards me.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she says warmly.
I bow back. "Likewise, Lady Saphyra."
She turns back to Astarion, with a sly smile on her lips. "I couldn't have imagined you keeping such remarkable company. Is she also lending a hand in funding the hospital?"
I tilt my head and raise a questioning eyebrow in Astarion's direction, but he remains unfazed. As if sensing that it's now my turn to take the lead, I clear my throat and confidently interject into the conversation, "Actually, Lady Saphyra, I have been heavily involved in the fundraising efforts for the hospital. It's a cause close to my heart, after the catastrophe we lived."
Lady Saphyra's expression changes, her eyes widening in surprise. "How wonderful! I must say, you are quite the impressive lady, Elara."
Astarion gives me a small nod of approval before turning back to Lady Saphyra. "Indubitably, my dear, she is a remarkable creature indeed. I daresay, any assistance we can offer in tending to these unfortunate young ones is most welcome. Even more if the help comes from someone as bewitching as yourself."
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at Astarion's practiced flattery, his smooth words and charming smile all too familiar to me by now. However, Lady Saphyra appears taken with his act, as she giggles and sips her drink before responding, "You are quite the charmer, Astarion. But I am glad to hear that you both are involved in such a noble cause. I may consider helping myself, if you treat me to a dance."
He takes her delicate hand in his and guides her gracefully towards the dance floor, their movements fluid and elegant as they join the other couples swaying to the music.
I watch them go with a mixture of amusement and relief that everything is going as intended. The rest of the night unfolds with a whirlwind of introductions and conversations. Astarion seems to know every person in the place, with most of them regarding Astarion with respect. I find myself seamlessly switching between engaging in political discussions with influential figures and gracefully gliding across the ballroom floor in elegant dances, all of this while convincing the nobles to join our very worthy cause. Just as Astarion had predicted, my presence was enough to sway many into following through with his plans.
At some point during the evening, we are approached by a group of people. Among them is who I recognize as Sir. Paddock, a human man in his sixties with silver hair and piercing green eyes. He is one of the most influential magistrates in the city, and also someone Astarion explicitly told me to beware of.
"Sir. Ancunín," he greets us with a bow before turning to me with a charming smile. "And Lady Ella, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
I give him a polite smile despite him getting my name wrong.
"You know, I didn't imagine the Savior of Baldur's Gate to be so appealing to the eye," he says with a raised eyebrow and lowers his eyes down my chest just enough to make me uncomfortable.
"Thank you for your compliment, Sir Paddock," I say stiffly.
He chuckles as if he's amused by my reaction before turning back to Astarion.
"So tell me," he says in a lowered voice, "what brings such extraordinary person here tonight in the arm of a man of the night, of all people?"
My jaw tightens at his words and I feel Astarion tense beside me. I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself.
Astarion flashes his signature smirk, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Ah, Sir Paddock, always the observant one," he says with a playful tone.
"Actually, Mr. Ancunín is doing a lot of important work for the betterment of this city," I say firmly.
The man just raises an eyebrow skeptically. "And do these 'important' labors involve the draining of a certain vital liquid?" he asks with a sly smile.
The people around us shift uncomfortably at his words, although I can hear some chuckles.
I stand my ground, not allowing his insinuation to rattle me. "No, they do not".
Astarion leans in, his smile never wavering."Ah, Sir Paddock, you wound me with your choice of words," he replies smoothly. "But as for Lady Elara's presence here tonight, she graces us with her company as both a hero and a benefactor to the hospital fund. We are fortunate to have her support."
Sir Paddock's smile falters, but he quickly regains his composure."A hero and a benefactor? Impressive indeed." He glances between us, a glint of suspicion in his eyes."Well then, I apologize for my bluntness. It's just that Astarion here has quite a reputation in the city."
"I assure you, Sir Paddock, that Astarion is a changed man now," I say confidently, placing a hand on Astarion's arm for emphasis.
Sir Paddock studies us for a moment.
"You seem like an accomplished and respectable young woman," the man continues, ignoring my previous statement. "You don't need to waste your potential with... this thing."
His words strike a nerve within me and before I know it, I am speaking without thinking. "Mr. Ancunín may have a past that some frown upon, but he has proven himself time and time again as a valuable asset to this city," I retort "he is the most caring, ambitious, hard working and loyal person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. And none of you would be here if it wasn't for his labors." I finish, my voice quivering with rage.
The surrounding crowd falls into a heavy silence, their eyes darting between the three of us. Astarion himself wears a stunned expression, his typically composed demeanor momentarily cracked.
But the man just chuckles condescendingly. "Oh dear, it seems like you have quite the temper on you," he says with amusement. "But mark my words, Miss Ella. Associating yourself with someone like that will only bring you down in the eyes of this society."
My fists clench at my sides as fury courses through me. How dare he speak about him like this? Despite all of Astarion's faults and past mistakes, he has been nothing but good to me and the city. Hells, he is keeping 7000 spawn alive as we are talking!
Before I can respond, Astarion steps forward "Ah, Sir Paddock, always one to jump to the most scandalous conclusions. I assure you, Lady Elara and I are engaged in far more noble pursuits than you could ever dream of."
I shoot Astarion a grateful smile. Sir Paddock's eyes narrow as he studies Astarion. "Well, well, the rogue with a heart of gold. You've certainly managed to charm your way into the hearts of Baldur's Gate's elite, haven't you?"
Astarion smirks and bows slightly. "Charm is my specialty, dear sir. It seems even the most discerning individuals can recognize true talent when they see it."
Suppressing a laugh, I instead give his arm a tight squeeze in appreciation for his backhanded compliment.
"And now, as lovely as it has been talking with you, I believe I owe this beautiful woman a dance, so if you'll excuse us" Astarion says smoothly, extending his hand towards me.
Sir Paddock studies us for a moment "Oh, of course," he says with a forced grin. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your dance."
I glance at Sir Paddock, a smug smile gracing my lips, before placing my hand in Astarion's. With a bow, the vampire leads me away from the group, towards the dance floor. As we glide across the dance floor, the tension from our encounter with Sir Paddock slowly dissipates. The music envelops us, its melodic notes weaving through the air as if casting a spell of tranquility upon the room. I can feel his eyes on me while we dance, his hand resting gently on the small of my back, guiding me with effortless grace. I try to push the earlier confrontation out of my mind and focus on our mission, but I can't help but feel guilty for losing my temper.
"I'm sorry," I say sincerely, breaking the silence between us. "I overstepped and almost blew our plan."
"You handled Sir Paddock admirably," Astarion whispers in my ear, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and mischief. "You have quite the fiery spirit, my lady."
I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks at his words, my heart swelling with a warmth that I hadn't anticipated, "Thank you, Sir Ancunín."
For a moment, I forget about the tensions of the evening and lose myself in the rhythm of the dance.
As we sway together amidst the sea of elegant couples, Astarion leans in closer, his voice barely audible over the music. My back shivers at the closeness to his body, the feeling of his cold fingers grazing my open back.
"My dear Elara," he begins, his breath tickling my ear, "Your strength and resilience have always been a source of envy for me. But there is something I find ever more admirable from you."
"And what is it that you find so admirable?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
Astarion pulls back slightly, his gaze fixed on mine. "It is your unwavering belief in the goodness of others, even in the face of their doubts and prejudices."
A small smile tugs at my lips as I listen to Astarion's words. His observation warms my heart.
"I'm not sure if that is entirely true," I say. "I have made plenty of mistakes believing others in my life."
A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he tightens his grip on my waist."Don't we all?" Astarion replies. "But I've seen you in action, Elara. You have a way of bringing out the best in people, even when they don't see it themselves."
I swallow hard, his words resonating deeply within me. Astarion's observations of my character always manage to surprise me, as if he can see into the depths of my soul. For so long after Gale left, I had felt lost and disconnected from the world, but his presence back in my life had brought about a newfound clarity, a sense of purpose.
"Thank you," I say softly.
As the music begins to fade into another song, Astarion pulls me closer, his grip on my waist firm yet gentle. The room around us seems to blur into insignificance as our eyes lock, a silent understanding passing between us.
"Can I ask what Gale's letter said?" He says, breaking the comfortable silence between us.
I tense visibly at the mention of the piece of parchment, tripping on my own feet. But Astarion quickly catches me before I fall.
"I-I don't know," I stutter, trying to regain my composure.
Astarion's eyes narrow slightly. "You don't know? Did you not read it?"
I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. How much should I tell him? In the short time we've been living together, Astarion has already opened himself to me in more ways than one. Yet, I can't shake the feeling of shame that washes over me at the reminder of the words written in ink.
"He said that he has started crafting Karsus' Crown" I blurt out.
Astarion raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up on my discomfort. "And that's it?"
I give a slow, resigned shake of my head. "He also said that it's over, that I should forget him and move on with my life." I say, my voice heavy with disappointment, "Oh, and of course, he made sure to mention that he's not coming back, which I guess was to be expected at this point." I laugh bitterly.
Astarion's expression turns serious at my words. "I'm sorry, Elara," he says quietly. "I know how much Gale meant to you."
"It's fine," I say with a shrug, trying to brush off the sadness that threatens to consume me. "I've had plenty of time to come to terms with it."
Astarion studies me for a moment before speaking again. "How do you feel about it?"
His question lingered in my mind. How did I feel about it?
"I...I don't know," I finally answer truthfully. "Part of me is sad, of course. But another part of me is relieved."
Astarion looks at me curiously, and I can tell he wants me to elaborate. So I take a deep breath and continue.
"I've been holding onto this hope that maybe one day we would get back together. For so many months, I really hoped he would give up his power for me," I say, feeling slightly embarrassed at my admission. "But now I can finally let go of that hope and move on with my life."
A small smile appears on Astarion's face and he nods in understanding. "I think that's for the best," he says softly.
I nod in agreement, grateful for his support and understanding. We continue dancing in silence for a few moments before Astarion speaks up again.
"You know, dear," he begins hesitantly. "He on no account ever deserved you."
I glance up at Astarion, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. I'm about to ask him what he means by that, but before I can even part my lips, a blood-curdling scream shatters the stillness of the room. In an instant, Astarion's hand is clasped around mine and he is pulling me towards the source of the cry. The corner is filled with a sea of nobles, their faces contorted with fear and shock. We push our way through the crowd, struggling against the tide until we finally reach the head of the gathering. And there, lying on the floor in a pool of crimson, is Duke Ravengard. And his lifeless body bears two deep puncture wounds decorating his neck.
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I’ve always thought part of Harry’s journey into embracing the culture of the Lords and Ladies as a Lord and Heir himself has been quite deliberately expedited by the gradual changes to his everyday wardrobe.
You’ve made a point of going back to this particular element of the story very often: The first masquerade, his venture into the monstrous beasts that are dress robes; the constant study in contrasts in every impromptu meeting between Primly Proper Tom and Hand-me-downs Harry; Vee’s own observations about his appearance, his posture, the holes in his clothes, the unkempt hair— and yet, the underlying but unmistakable power beneath it all; the illusion ballroom and all the Cinderella Easter eggs you’ve weaved into the story since then; Vee chiding him for not taking advantage of his multiple inheritances (mostly) in goodwill, but it being a touchy subject for Harry, even in Hogwarts before The Kiss; him feeling out of place in Malfoy Manor, surrounded by so much opulence; the whole SEGMENT dedicated to just him getting fitted for an event we’ve now seen for ourselves has been a vicious unfurling of his cunning so far, and again we see him leveraging his title and everything attached to it with increasing familiarity and comfort…
Not really here to make any groundbreaking points, just that I’ve always found it really funky and cool, and that as an author you might appreciate the little details being acknowledged— because they are! I want you to know that they are! And that it has me wondering more often than necessary what it means for future him, and how he’ll manage bridging his two worlds as Just Harry and Lord Potter together in a way that doesn’t strip him of his core identity, but still exalts the parts of him that are Chosen, and Prophesied, and Great.
Mostly, I just picture off-duty Hazza as a miniature Sirius (yes, in size), but rougher and daintier both, and cheekier, and perhaps less studded up save for the little earring or two, and with thrice the collection of knives stashed away at every corner of his body hidden beneath fabric. So basically, leather jackets, jeans, tats and always high on an unhealthy dose of danger.
But keep the oversized shirts and hoodies, cause let’s not take it TOO far now. He’s still Harry!!
There's so much I love about this message. Thank very much for sending it to me.
I tend to write cyclically-- things come back around, again and again, in a slightly new way-- as I tend to find life weaves it's own funny little patterns. Harry going back to the masquerade, again and again, with different variances on what he is doing and why, is a part of showing how he changes and grows overtime.
Dressing nicely forced him to start folding his worlds together much more quickly, simply because of what he needed them for. Clothes can make or break a person's character-- even in real life, we have rules for certain occasions-- and Harry is learning to embrace aspects of himself he didn't realize he had. The clothes are not necessarily about Magical Power either-- but, like in real life-- it's about Social Power. Harry is learning to embrace that so that he can twist it all up from the inside out.
You've got a pretty good view on my version of him. Hazza is my little jock that would prefer jeans, a t-shirt, and Sirius' old leather jacket-- but he'll learn to weaponize the way he dresses much the same way he's learned with other things. And dressing nice DOES make him feel more confident in those environments-- you mentioned the monstrous beasts that ARE dressrobes but we're forgetting the monstrous beasts IN dressrobes that Harry is learning to blend in with.
Thank you again ❤️❤️ I love it when people notice the little things I carefully craft into the story, and the masquerade has always been something I knew I would need to come around to again. Three is the magic number for me, so things tend to return in threes.
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sheliesshattered · 2 months
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I've been dealing with a little bit of a cold this last week on top of the normal spoonie-ness, so it was slow going on my most recent sewing project -- the hooded wrap, not quite a cape, not quite a shawl, definitely not a scarf, definitely not a robe thing -- which Jack says I need a better name for lol -- but with pacing and slow incremental progress, I was actually able to finish it in pretty good time.
Ironing and pinning the very long hem was the most time consuming part, but pacing myself actually allowed me to slow down and handsew all the corners into place before I put it through the sewing machine, which resulted in much crisper edges than I would have had if I was rushing to finish it. This time last week I wasn't sure if I would be able to machine sew the hem, but I actually like the look of the top stitching it produces, so I went with what was both easier and nicer looking. After all the ironing and pinning it took me nearly an hour to sew the whole thing in the machine, inching along to keep my lines straight and remove all those pins, so I don't even want to think about how long it would have taken me to handsew it, lol.
I did french seams on all the seams, since they may be seen from the outside, and turned the hem under twice at about the same width for a nice crisp matching look. The resulting hooded thing is soft and cozy and moderately warm, and can be worn a bunch of different ways, which is fun.
With the hood down and the wrap bits left to hang straight down, it's got nearly Jedi robe vibes:
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One of the wraps tossed over the shoulder creates nice asymmetry:
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But with both of the wraps up on the shoulder and the hood up, it's got a different feel entirely:
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The fabric is a brushed cotton herringbone that grips itself reasonably well, so once the wraps are tossed over the shoulders they stay put pretty well. From the side view you can see how it just drapes nicely down the back:
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And when they're tossed over the shoulders like that, the finished ends are similar in length to the center back point:
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With the wraps unfolded and left long in the front, the back panel is much more visible. There's no shoulder seam at all -- the wraps just continue up over the shoulder and meet at a 45 degree angle in the back:
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I was careful when I cut out the pieces and when I pinned both parts of the french seam, so that I could line up the herringbone weave neatly and get these cool chevrons at the center back:
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The length in the back is enough for it to feel a bit like a cape, but not in a huge dramatic way or anything -- and Disney generally frowns on large capes and robes for Batuu Bounding, from what I've heard. But with this length I feel like my back and shoulders are covered, but the longest bit of the center back isn't so long that I actually sit on it. I wore it out of the house this weekend and was comfortable both wearing it in the car and walking around an outdoor flea market.
I have about seven yards left of this fabric, so at some point here I'm going to make a Norse-inspired apron dress out of the rest of it, to go over the fleece dress seen in the photos, which I sewed last month, and to go over lighter underdresses in the spring, and possibly on its own in the summer. I like the idea of this hood matching that apron dress, and I did draw some inspiration for Norse/viking hoods with pointed capelets in front and back, too. Not at all historically accurate, but historically-inspired, like the fleece dress.
But really my brain is all about Star Wars right now, and the Batuu Bounding for our trip to Disneyland coming up in about six weeks. The hooded wrap has a very different vibe with big boots and leather-look leggings and a fitted vest and various Star Wars-y accessories. My nb sibling described this hooded thing as 'what Luke Skywalker would wear if he was a crow witch' -- and as an irl crow witch and a non-affiliated gray Force user in my silly Star Wars OC building, I can certainly live with that, lol.
I have a few detail things for my Batuu Bounding outfit that I still want to work on, but generally I'm really happy with how it's coming together. Next up, I'm going to switch gears and work on some details to spruce up Jack's jacket for our outing, now that we've got the base-layer pieces for him figured out too. Pictures of that (and my outfit) as they start to come together.
Six weeks isn't a ton of time to get costuming pieces done in, especially without pushing myself too hard, but I also feel like both of our outfits are good to go the way they are right now. It's just, they could be cooler looking with a little more time and effort. And hey, I'm having fun with the process and it's keeping me from vibrating in place and rewatching every Star Wars movie and tv show over and over again while I count down to my birthday, lol.
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saemixx · 9 months
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somewhere in the vastness of my room, i had more notes about her. *shrug
Muffet is very loyal to her family. in the games she is dressed quite fancy and is seemingly shown to be money oriented. My idea was to give her quite a difficult childhood. Not with violence or more extreme.
She has been working since she was little because she is the only spider in her family who can pick up more than one pebble. There is little time for school. Most of her money goes to transporting her family from the ruins to New Home. There the temperature is just perfect and the humidity is bearable. In addition, she has to feed more than a few thousand spiders. Make the home liveable and safe for them. In the beginning, her life was rarely about herself or playing with the other children. Even if she had time, she is one of the more creepy monsters. Rarely is there anyone who looks her in the face. She sewed her clothes from the odd bits of yellowed and torn fabric she found. Alphys and Muffet met at the garbage dump of Wasserfall. Muffet first hid behind her found clothes. She didn't want to face a screaming monster again. Alphys, however, thought she would be shy and afraid of the dark garbage dumps that have few moon crystals for illumination.
Alphys, however, thought she was shy and afraid of the dark garbage contents that have few moon crystals for illumination. She moved without thinking about it and with childlike joy to help someone, to an interesting place that remained mostly dry.
"you are looking for fabric? i often find dry stuff over there! It doesn't smell as bad as what you can pull out of the water."
Even after Muffet tried to hide her appearance all the time, Alphys never looked at her in shock.
At some point,
"Why are you here? Shouldn't spiders be able to weave their own fabric?" Muffet dropped her clothes in fright and looked at her, puzzled.
Alphys raised her eyebrow and watched a blue ball of fabric slowly drift away. "I guess that means no?"
"You know what I look like?"
Muffet and Alphys friendship was garbage friends from that day on. At one point, Alphys invited her to go to the New Home library. That Muffet can't read and thus couldn't translate her family's ancient scrolls for her special thread magic almost brought tears to Alphys' eyes. Garbagedumbdiver-Learning- Friends it is!
This is how Muffet met Catty, Bratty and Aster. She felt a direct connection to him, calm - mostly regarded by others fearfully , and working so hard that it led to a childlike infatuation. Batty and Catty directly saw in it a chance to re-enact a plot from their Romance Clichee novels.
Aster still wonders how he suddenly got sucked into a low cost candlelight dinner at Alphys. Muffet was just laughing into her claws the whole time and he was pretty sure he saw water burning.
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cuuno-moved · 1 year
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True Beauty
Bongragh was not a pretty city.
Oh, sure, it was alright- it was a hub city of sorts, the kind that adventurers traveled through and sometimes settled in, but it wasn’t made to be pretty, unlike most dwarven cities, it was made to survive the ever present danger of the volcano it was built into erupting. It was a fortress of a city, and its people were severely lacking any sort of elegant wonder.
Brontel was not like most of the people of Bongragh. 
From a young age, he’d always admired the beautiful strangers who bustled through the city looking for magical artifacts to buy and sell, visiting inns and rest stops, sparing the locals not a glance, unless it was to start a fight. Brontel dreamed of becoming like that, beautiful and magical, walking through a city that was not his own, unafraid and unabashed.
He used to dress up in his mother’s rough weave dresses and heavy shawls and twirl around the house, demanding his parents and siblings trade with him, and, when he grew up, he became a tailor, working to mend these strangers’ beautiful clothes.
His aunt did nothing but encourage this. 
A drow who’d had her fair share of adventure, she would tell him tales of magic, of love, of excitement, and Brontel- oh, Brontel yearned.
One day, though, a tiefling came in, with a torn dress he wanted mended, and things changed.
The dress was not made for battle, and the tiefling wasn’t cold. He told Brontel about his adventures, described the places he’d seen, and, as Brontel painstakingly stitched the tears bit by bit, he realized that this torn fabric was true beauty.
It was silk, and white, with peach flowers on blue branches. It shone under his fingertips, and he could almost smell the flowers in the fabric. He ached as he handed it back.
“Do you want to come with me?” The tiefling, Oryon, asked. “You’d make a good fighter, I can see it in your eyes, and you won’t have to wait around for beauty to come to you.”
It was shockingly hard to leave.
Not because he had to say goodbye- there was really only three or four people who’d care if he left- but because those three or four were so insistent that he stay.
“I can’t protect you out there.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” He insisted, his back to the bed as he packed his bag. “I’m a big boy now, I can win my own fights.”
There was no response, just a sigh.
(Always sighing, he thought, but didn’t say. This is why you’re graying already- and it’s not very attractive on you.)
And so, Brontel Wardrock left Bongragh, and he didn’t look back.
He sent letters, of course, at first to everyone, then, just a few, then, just to one.
The typical letter was short, but to the point, loving and concise, saying exactly what he needed to say.
‘Hello, dear. I killed a wolf today. Love, Brontel.’
Of course, with him moving so often, there was no telling if he ever got any back. He assumed he did, he assumed there was a massive pile of letters waiting for him to collect somewhere, but he didn’t mind. He knew everyone must miss him so much, and he couldn’t wait to see them when he got back, once he located True Beauty, and gotten a bit to take home. Once he could prove he was in the right. Once he could show everyone that it was out there.
Rossleon was supposed to be it.
It was supposed to be the most beautiful city in the world, supposed to be so close to perfection that even infernals wept when they saw it.
Brontel wasn’t impressed.
Sure, he’d seen some beauty there- Sunny’s cloak came close, as did Maya’s hair- but there was no True Beauty to be found.
And so, as soon as he could, he decided, he was going to move on. 
After he explored this cursed canyon, of course.
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the-fiction-witch · 2 years
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Princess P1
MOVIE NANNY MCPHEE COUPLE: SIMON X READER RATING: FIGHTS!
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I sat in the grass doing my best to avoid doing any work. Playing with my wooden trucks and trains in the dirt. I had hoped for some privacy given my family it's a rare thing to have a moment alone, but even out here I couldn't escape stupidity. Just the other side of the small wooden fence sat the perfectly manicured grass and garden of our neighbors the y/l/n's. And sat in said grass beside a bed of tulips sat her. I hated her stupid little jumped up princess who thinks she's better then everyone else simply because her graden is prettier, because her house is painted such a sweet pastel, because her family spoils her far beyond rotten I hated her and everything she stands for.
She spotted me looking at her and glared back at me
"I should have known that was you simon. I could smell you from my bedroom"
"Well sorry Mi lady. Perhaps I should rub Myself on your gussied up imported roses"
"Don't you dare touch my rose house simon! You'll get your grubby little mitts on the glass" she says "when was the last time you even had a bath simon"
'last week! In a family of eight plus a maid and cook that's pretty damn regular"
"Disgusting, there is so much dirt under your nails you could grow potatoes"
"Well sorry Mi lady not all of us get our lavender infused daily bath in goats milk"
"I do not bathe in milk!"
"Ohh must have mistook you for cleopatra, another stupid rich little brat!"
"She was a beautiful intelligent queen! Not that you would know Simon, you only learn your history up to a cave man because that's as far as you ever evolved!"
"That's it!" I climbed the fence and began pulling on her hair she of course screamed and began kicking and punching me so I did it back until we were both dirty and bruised our hair and clothes out of place she has even torn my shirt when my father and hers pulled us apart
"Simon! What on earth what that about?"
"She called me a cave man"
"Well you are!" She yelled "he pulled my hair and ripped my dress daddy"
"Ohh princess you poor thing, tell me who started it"
"Simon did!"
"No I didn't she did!" I yelled
"I don't care who started it I'm ending it" my father says "simon apologize"
"But-"
"Now!"
"Sorry y/n"
"Y/n" her father spoke up
"Sorry simon"
"Alright, come on then princess well go and take care of you new pony" he says ushering her away
"Your in big trouble" my father says pulling me back by my arm "do you have any idea what her father could do to us if she got hurt"
"I don't care she's mean to me"
"Yes but her father could buy and sell us and everything we own so be nice." He told me "go on go clean the pigs out"
"Father-"
"Go"
"You never listen! To anything I have to say!" I yelled before running off to my room.
I stood so angry I basically had smoke coming from my ears, we were having a party for one of my sister's and my father insisted we invite them from next door the mere fact she was in our garden was enough to make me angry and the fact she was ignoring me! Like I didn't even exist.
I wanted to kill her,  suck up little princess.
we of course ended up beside each other at the party and I didn't even look at her just as she had been ignoring me
"Evening Simon"
"Evening y/n"
"I see you had your one bath of the year"
"I see you have a new dress again, another to add to your mountain of fabric. I swear at this point you must be using your gowns for curtains and bedsheets"
"No Simon, some of us don't use old clothes to weave old blankets"
"Spoilt little princess!"
"dirty little rat!"
"spoilt brat!"
"trash boy!"
we started screaming insults back and forth getting louder and louder until she slapped me, so I pulled on her hair hard, she grabbed my shirt ripping it as we both started screaming and physically fighting which of cause drew attention and our fathers pulled us apart
"What on earth is your roughen of a boy doing to my daughter!"
"Well I- Simon what were you doing to her"
"She hit me! she slapped me!" I argued
"He started it" she argues
"that's a lie she started it"
"we are going home princess, I see your garbage boy anywhere near my daughter again we will have some serious problems Mr Brown" Her father warned before taking her home
"Simon." my father glares pushing me inside the house and shutting the door as we had already made enough of a scene "what have I told you! I though you was over this! enough! I see you near her again your grounded. don't touch her, talk to her, hell don't even look at her Simon."
"But she started-"
"I don't care! Simon. We are a family of twelve, Do you understand how much we struggle?"
"Fath-"
"Do you?"
".... I do" I nodded
"No..."
"Mr Y/l/n is our landlord. he owns our house has done for the last six years. he is also the land lord for the funeral office. so he's also my boss. Do you understand what would happen if he decided to be angry with us"
"Simon. You're growing up now. And part of being a grown-up is understanding the bigger picture. I know that for whatever reason you don't like y/n but sometimes we have to be social with people we don't like, we have to grit our teeth and smile through the pain especially when those people are important" he explained "Go on up to your room"
"But I-
"Go."
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pbandjesse · 9 months
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I fell apart again today. I better feel better tomorrow because this sucked so much.
Last night I was shivering so bad and I was so upset and so uncomfortable. Very unsure if I actually had a fever but man I uncomfortable.
I don't remember falling asleep. I don't even remember James turning the lights off. I kind of remember them leaving for work but not really.
I got up around 9 and Jess texted me to see if I was alive. Barely. I had woken up at 3 am because my nose was just scabs and I couldn't breath. I blew my nose and put on a breathright strip. It helped but I was still woozy from lack of oxygen when I got up.
I stopped the bed and would get washed and dressed I love this dress. It's like the perfect day off house dress. No fuss at all. But as soon as I left my room it was hell. The apartment was so humid it was like standing in oatmeal. But not in a nice way!!! It was horrible.
So I would make a pocket. I closed the windows in my studio and James's room. I closed the curtains in the doorway (since we have no door there), and put a fan towards that curtain. Then I put the air on. And it took a little while to work but when I went into the living room and back it was very noticeable how much cooler it was. And it would get more comfortable as the afternoon went on. Worked really well.
I would vacuum. And go through the stuff that Julie had dropped of for me last week. Some neat stuff in there!! A lot of it will go to camp and I'm really glad it can be used!
I would spend an hour or so cutting fabric for bears. I felt pretty weak but sitting on the floor where it was cool made the work a lot easier. I used the end of a few pieces of fabric. The blue and green specifically. I also had to make a lot of bears that's legs will have to be attached separately. Which is fine. But I am going to mix some colors for the first time because I think it'll be fun. I hope to get a lot of them sewn this week. I also want to have 100 squares done. I'll have to count and see how many I have tomorrow.
I had only had a bit of seaweed salad so far today. The idea of eating most of the stuff in the fridge made me gag. I felt really weak but all of the food made me feel ill.
I would eventually figure out something. We had one egg left and I got an avocado yesterday. So with those and some toast I was good. But I was also crying. I started feeling very very bad. And uncomfortable and just so upset. I was upset with James. And with the world. And with myself. I was hurting and texting James being so upset. I texted Jess too. And they both validated me but I still felt stupid for being as upset as I was.
After I ate I cried and fell asleep.
Which didn't exactly make me feel better but at least James was home when I woke up.
I felt really unwell still though. James had gone and gotten some groceries and some snacks would help. But it took me a few hours to stop feeling like I was going to fall apart.
We would sit in the dungeon and play the rest of our unpacking video game. I had lemon water which made me feel more hydrated.
Eventually we would share Mac and cheese. And I would go take a shower. I washed my hair and now I am waiting for James to finish their own shower to go and dry my hair.
I am worried about camp this week. Nervous. We are doing weaving and it's either going to be so fun or a disaster. It can go exactly no other ways.
So wish me luck. I love you all. Goodnight my friends
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strxngemxgick · 2 years
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@shieldagentnatasharomanoff asked: "Looking good, Doc." Natasha commented, a cheeky smile on her face as she leaned against the doorframe that led into his quarters. She hadn't really been in here yet, at least not in this dimension of the Sanktum. 
The first thing she had noticed were the bookshelves behind the large, inviting poster bed. The furniture seemed older, as if plucked from a different time. Warm wood and earth tones mixed with white accents. A few trinkets lay about, but Natasha didn't like to pry. A soft smile tugged on her lips as she walked over, taking in Stephen in his dark suit. 
She watched his shaking hands and stepped in front of him. "May I?" Natasha reached up and carefully wrapped the black tie around his neck, weaving it into a knot and pulling it straight. 
"I mean it, Stephen. You look nice. I don't think I've ever seen you wear a suit." That wasn't exactly true. She had seen her Strange wear a tattered Armani suit. Her hand remained on his chest. As Natasha looked up at him. 
She was wearing a navy blue dress, that wrapped tightly around her torso and flowed free around her legs, ending around her knees. The bodice was a solid blue fabric, a lace pattern weaved along her sleeves and down the skirt of her dress. Her crimson hair was curled, pulled back into a loose updo with some ringlets artistically pulled out of their hold to make it look more natural. 
"I did consider a red dress, but pretty sure my hair matches your pocketsquare." Natasha had recognized the crimson garment and winked at him as if it was their little secret. "I hope this is alright."
Meme Random Asks /// Always Accepting
Going against what was arguably his better judgement, Stephen had decided to attend Christine’s wedding. He had chosen to mostly leave Wong and Cherry out of his decision (though he was certain that they at least suspected he was going), and he had already explained his reasoning to Strange, much to the other’s chagrin. He would get dressed up, give his congratulations, and hopefully not make an idiot of himself as he tried not to be emotional. 
And, against what may have been her better judgement, Natasha had been convinced to tag along. 
Moral support, they had decided, everyone all too aware of how much Christine had meant to him, though he had never said as much. The guilt he carried for the way he treated her, even after making his amends as she saved his life, was sometimes crippling. It hurt to even think about her, and the possibilities they might have had if Stephen could simply keep his ego in check. If he had just watched his mouth, seen her for what she was to him, told her how much she meant, things may have been different. (Or, rather, that’s what he told himself.) It had been clear that he wouldn’t be able to brave such a momentous occasion alone, and Natasha had been his first choice. Whether or not she was aware, she had become such a pillar of support for him - a heavy burden to bare, to be sure, but one that she carried with grace and affection. She had agreed, of course, promising to be there with him as he watched Christine walk down the aisle. 
Towards her happiness. 
The happiness that he couldn’t give her.
He was pulled from his musings by the sound of a familiar voice, his faintly trembling hands ceasing in their futile attempts to tie his tie as he looked past his shoulder in the mirror to see Natasha standing behind him. All smiles and easy elegance and warmth and beauty. She was, plainly, breathtaking, and Stephen was certain that he was absolutely embarrassing himself as he turned to face her, almost numb in his movements. 
“I...” He stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence as she reached for him. His own hands dropped to his sides, watching as she drew in close, gaze following the curl of her slender fingers as she tightened the knot around his neck. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of his momentary stupor, because he owed Natasha actual intelligent conversation. He hardly wanted to be one of the many men who surely only saw her for her pretty face and physical allure. He knew her well, though, and was all too aware that her true charm was in her kindness. 
He gave her a small, shy smile in response to her compliment, giving a noncommittal shrug. “I appreciate it,” he assured her. And then, he chanced a compliment of his own, trying to ignore the comfortable weight of her hand against his chest. He wondered if she could feel the manic beating of his heart behind his ribcage. “But I can only wish I looked half as good as you.” And she did look absolutely stunning. He pulled back, drawing away from her touch with the unspoken excuse of admiring her. “Everyone would expect red from you, but, I like the blue. It suits you.” It made her eyes glow. 
He straightened out his suit, dropping his gaze to his shiny black shoes in an attempt to keep from staring, lest he ran the risk of seeming like an asshole. “I know I’ve said it a million times, but I really can’t thank you enough, Nat. It... really means the world to me that you’d go.”
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moonctzeny · 3 years
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champagne sins
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pairing: socialite! johnny x fem! reader
genre: smut
word count: 1,714
warnings: alcohol consumption, slight voyerism, slight degradation
a/n: I blame @sehunniepot for this
general taglist: @naomis-sins , @slightlymore-main , @jjaeyoonoh, @ichbinschnappi, @infnteen , @markresonates , @babyksworld
——————————————————————
You love the way your new designer dress hugs your figure tonight, sparkly fabric reflecting the light and making everything around you glow. You love the way the champagne bubbles tickle your tastebuds with their sour taste, on your third glass already and with no intention of stopping anytime soon. You especially love having Johnny eat you up with his eyes from the other side of the room, his honey-colored stare having an iron grip on you.
Letting your body move on its own accord and with a wobble in your step you walk over to where he’s standing, large body resting sideways on the decorated wall. Johnny’s a socialite, yet if you asked him what he did for a living you’d get a different answer every time. He’s a DJ at the biggest club in town, he’s a reality star, he owns real estate. Maybe he’s one of those pretty boys you pay handsomely to loop your arms around for the rest of the night.
And you don’t blame anyone that would want to have Johnny like this, hard to resist with this combination of tall height, dark locks, and even darker intentions. Tonight, he looks more expensive than all your jewelry combined with those leather pants that melt right over his thighs. He’d left the top button of his satin shirt unfastened, teasing you with his smooth, tanned skin, and you take the first leap of immorality by loosening the second one yourself. You’re endlessly jealous of those pearls for getting to loop around his neck.
“Undressing me before even saying hi?”
“Hi. Now can I do one more?”
He chuckles and you take it as a sign to hook your index on the third buttonhole, revealing the top row of his abs. They’re covered in small glitter particles from last night’s fun and you envision the masterpiece you could create with just some lipstick and your fingernails. A sweet smell hazes your mind further, a mixture of his cologne and that caramel-scented e-cig he likes nursing so much.
He hums while still frustratingly keeping his hands to himself, towering over you with his broad shoulders and crushing the surge of confidence caused by the liquid courage, “What has you so naughty tonight baby girl?”
“You”
He loves having people inflate his ego and you know how to take advantage of this fact very well. He pushes back his long bangs with his hand, wet from the heat in the penthouse and finally pulling you closer with the other. His rings dig right over the dimples on your back, just low enough to toy with what’s considered inappropriate in a room full of people. Not that anyone cares, really; everyone is high on the substance of their choice and Johnny is just simply your favorite of vices.
“Naughty, naughty girl”, he muses and you follow his lips like you’re hypnotized, enjoying the degrading way he kisses his teeth.
“You know, when you pretend to be all righteous it makes me wanna fuck you even more”, you bite back and something changes in his eyes, pupils expanding like a big black hole that’s about to swallow you entirely.
His fingers leave his scalp to now grab onto your jaw, thumb hindering the blood from going to your head and forcing you to look away from the tattoo on his chest. You’re so close now that you notice his tongue is toying with some blue-colored candy, its original spherical shape now being a mere wafer-thin piece of sugar.
“You didn’t have a mouth this dirty last time I saw you”
“I thought you loved my mouth”
He grins at your wits, flashing you the same million-dollar smile that gets him free drinks and pretty people at his feet at all times before finally planting his lips on yours.
You think that out of all Johnny’s beauteous features, his lips have to be your favorite ones. Bow shaped and soft, they beg you to suck, nibble, and bruise them, the other party invitees be damned. His right hand, previously resting on your waist, is now grabbing your ass shamelessly, and he takes advantage of the gasp you let out to press the remaining candy against your own tongue. You’re so preoccupied with the way he twirls in your mouth that you’ve pliantly allowed him to corner you between the wall and his body, and when he starts to lick right over the middle of your throat you don’t know if the room is spinning because of the champagne or him.
“Fuck”, you mutter as your half-lidded eyes stare into the ceiling, a familiar hardness poking the top of your thigh.
“Language”, he scolds you against your skin, with a tone so cold you don’t know how it spreads so much warmth to your body, “Good girls don’t swear”
“What if I want to be bad?”
“Follow me”
“Follow me”
You weed your way between the groups of beautiful people, grabbing a glass of champagne on the way, until you reach what seems to be the door to the party thrower’s office. A big “DON’T ENTER” sign hangs from the knob and Johnny throws it to the confetti-filled floor without the slightest guilt, leading you inside the study.
It’s a spacious room, with full-length windows and a mahogany desk placed in front of a filled bookshelf. You don’t even manage to ask him where he wants you when he starts ravaging your neck again, his big body making you backtrack to the reclining leather chair in the end of the office. Unadulterated arousal pulses through you with every bite he leaves behind, and you push him down onto the seat, momentarily enjoying the view of him sprawled like that just for you.
Impatiently, Johnny grabs the back of your bare thighs, pulling you on top of him, and you quickly start to unfasten his braided black belt. Endlessly entertained by the thought of messing with you, he starts petting over the skimpy fabric of your underwear in an effort to distract you. It works, with your fingers shaking as they try to push his pants below his hips while his own start circling around your swollen clit.
A pitiful sob graces his ears as he pushes your soaked up panties to the side, petting your raw pussy that drips with a mess you’ve made just for him. You move your hand between his thighs in retaliation when he pushes two fingers inside you, working him into his full length as your moans harmonize into the most filthy of tunes.
“Tightest fucking pussy. Dripping wet too. Did I do this, pretty girl? Or was I just your victim for the night?”
“Just for you”, you moan out as you move along with his fingers inside you, your hand gliding easily over his cock with the aid of his precum.
He looks so fucking good like that; all messy and sweaty and all yours that you tug the bottom parts of his shirt away from one another, buttons breaking and dancing all over the floor.
“That was expensive”, he mentions playfully just to tease you, knowing damn well this shirt was nothing compared to Johnny’s net worth.
“And I’m priceless”
You take the glass of champagne that you’d left on the floor and start to spill some of the bubbly liquid over his chest, watching manically as it travels through the lines of his abs. The pale moonlight that seeps through the window kisses the wet skin, making him look irresistible as you lean down to suck the drink from the hollows where his muscles connect. Johnny weaves his fingers through your locks and giggles at the feeling, shivering when you reach his happy trail.
“Had enough of a taste?”
“I need one more thing”, you purr and take a condom out of your purse. He strokes his cock lazily as you open the foil carefully, eyeing you hungrily in the meantime, as if he hasn’t taken a good look at you already. When you’re done slipping the condom over his shaft you line the throbbing member to your opening, mentally preparing yourself for the girth you know is about to come.
A breathy whine leaves your lips when he slips fully inside you, and the way Johnny stretches you out already has you seeing stars.
Languidly but full of pleasure you start to circle your hips over him, enjoying the blinking light of the city that falls to your feet. A fleeting feeling of panic surges through you when you see all the people on the road and the balconies of the lower buildings, feeling even more exposed than you already are.
“Johnny, what if someone sees us?”, you ask him innocently but never once do you stop grinding your hips, making him smile at the empty question.
“I thought you wanted to be bad? Not a good girl anymore?”, he teases and thrusts his hips forward without a warning, making you shriek with how deep he reaches inside you. “A naughty, filthy girl that wants my cock in a party full of guests and with the whole city watching.”
He lifts his hand to drag down the fabric of your top, successfully freeing your chest and exposing you even more, loving the way your boobs look as you ride him.
“You think that just because anyone that happens to look up to see you being all slutty for me I’m not gonna fuck you against every surface in this room?”
You whimper at this promise, and your experience with him vouches that it will soon turn into reality.
“Please”, he scoffs, “you better bounce”
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silversatoru · 3 years
Note
step-dad nanami + brat taming 😼?
dark content event!!!
yes yes yes yes yes yes yesyyesysyesy mmm so good mm very tasty idea ily and i got very carried away
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nanami + brat taming
tw: nsfw 18+, f!reader, psuedocest (nanami is your step-dad), brat-taming, noncon/dubcon, impact play, power imbalance, mild size kink?, manhandling, fingering, nanami said fuck jujutsu and is a very rich business man au
wc: 1.7k
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you knew your mother’s new fiancé was a moderately successful business man, but you certainly weren’t expecting to pull up to a security gate on the day that you moved in with him. a large house constructed with dark-colored bricks loomed over your mom’s dented toyota prius, and you wondered what the hell one lonely man needed all this space for.
the white-haired butler that opened the front door and offered to carry some of your bags seemed nice enough, but you couldn’t help but scoff at the entire situation. walking onto the pristine and shiny floors in your scuffed up sneakers made you wonder just how your mom had managed to gold-dig her way into this one. either she was terribly convincing, or this guy was horribly desperate — either way you weren’t opposed to reaping the benefits. a butler, a giant in-ground pool, a bedroom that was three times the size of your old one?
yeah, you’d settle in real quick.
and you did just that, taking whatever you wanted and not feeling a shred of guilt for it. this guy, nanami kento, had more than enough money to go around, so why shouldn’t you indulge yourself? why shouldn’t you throw unsolicited pool parties while they’re at work? invite boys over to spend time in your king sized bed? your mom forced you out of your hometown to move in with this rich asshole, might as well make the most of it.
and things were going pretty fucking smoothly if you do say so yourself, or at least they were until nanami caught you sneaking a boy through your window one night.
you thought your were so smart, so slick with the way that you used his house as your personal playground behind his back. but why would he own such an esteemed property and not have security cameras? you weren’t smart at all, in fact you were incredibly, incredibly stupid.
and you’ve been getting on nanami’s nerves for a while, sashaying around the house in tiny outfits surrounded by a horde of immature boys. he’d watch you through the security footage while he worked — blood boiling at the way you flaunted his home as if it were your own.
those boys were never going to be enough for you; you’d walk all over them with your inflated ego and terrible attitude. you needed a man, someone grown, who could put your back in your place — you needed nanami — and fuck, he’d wanted you since the day you walked through his front door. he’d been patient, very patient, but this was enough to snap the thin wire that was holding him back.
he didn’t hesitate to kick the boy right back out the window he climbed through, threatening to call the cops if he didn’t leave his fucking property right now. and then a firm hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you up the stairs and into his bedroom.
he gave your arm a harsh tug, tossing your body towards his large neatly made bed. the edge of the raised mattress whacked you in the gut, your face falling forward and mashing into the silky comforter.
“what the fu-,” you snapped your head back to look at him, but were immediately met with a rolled up black sock being shoved into the back of your mouth.
you coughed and whined through the fabric as he grasped both your wrists in his one large hand, his other weaving the leather belt that was previously looped through his trousers around your wrists. he had zero patience for you right now, and he was making that evidently clear.
“i’ve tried to stay patient with you, but you’ve forced my hand this time,” he looked at you with dark eyes, one of his hands undoing the zipper at the back of your skirt.
you tried to kick with your legs, tried to cuss him out through the sock, but it was entirely ineffective, his strong hands holding you down and the cotton preventing a single coherent word from leaving your lips. your skirt was gliding to your feet now, your bare ass exposed and looking nanami right in the eyes.
“sneaking in another boy? how many times should i spank you for that? five? ten? i think ten would be suitable in this situation,” he used one hand to keep you pinned to the mattress, and the other to caress the smooth skin of your upper thigh, “what do you think?”
obviously you tried to reason with him, tell him that you didn’t deserve any spanks, that you weren’t a child, that this whole thing was fucking weird — but none of that made it out of your mouth, not through the soggy sock that was still in your way.
“i’m glad you agree, ten it is,” he gave you a thoughtful look, raising up his hand in preparation to strike you for the first time.
“one”.
his hand swung down with incredible force, a piercing smacking sound echoing through the room as you squealed and kicked under his touch. it felt like a thousand pins piercing through your skin, a blazing fire that burned through his fingers and straight through to your brain.
“two”.
the second smack was brought down with even more strength, your whole body lurching in response to the impact. you still kicked, still fought, still screamed through gag for him to fuck off, but a small part of you was already anticipating number three.
“three”.
the third strike to your backside flipped a switch in your brain, your legs falling limp and your screams replaced with pitiful whimpers and whines. his hand on your skin was starting to hurt so good, bits of the sock becoming trapped in your clenched teeth.
four, five, and six came quickly after, only a few seconds of rest between each of them — and nanami knew that he’d won when your feet began to push up onto your tip-toes, your ass wiggling closer to him as you waited for more.
“you count the next ones,” he reached forward and plucked the disgusting sock out of your mouth, tossing it to the floor and caressing your cheek.
seven came down hard, goosebumps lining your arms as you yelped; your tied up hands grasping at air. a shameful “seven”, rolled from your tongue a few moments later, your shaky voice flooding nanami’s ears.
“good girl,” he cooed, “three more”.
the next three stung the worst, nanami hissing at how badly it hurt his own hand — but your were a lightheaded, dizzy mess; practically drooling on his sheets by the time he was done. you’d done exactly what he asked, taken all ten and even counted out the last four — you were so good for him, and it was so easy.
he helped you roll over onto your back and then slipped his hand under the waistband of your panties, pulling and letting them fall down to your ankles. you’d taken the punishment pretty well, so it was only fair that you were rewarded now.
he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, one of his hands pressing down onto your puffy clit. you knew how inappropriate this was all becoming, but your head was much too hazy to care.
he dipped two of his fingers low, slipping them into your slimy cunt and gently pushing them up inside you. his fingers were long, a sharp whimper flying through your teeth as he curled his fingers against your walls.
what the hell would happen if your mom got home right now? if she saw her soon-to-be husband fist-deep in her daughter?
those were the things you should have been thinking, but they didn’t cross your mind once. how could you care about the what if’s when nanami was stuffing you full with his thick fingers on one hand, and expertly massaging your clit with the other.
no one your age had this experience, and none of the boys you’d messed with had ever made you feel this good with such little effort. nanami was opening your eyes to his expert hands, and you began to wonder how many sorry brats had ended up in this exact spot before. maybe this is what he did for fun — romancing middle-aged women just to prey on their college-aged daughters until they inevitably get caught one day — and then the cycle continues.
but right now, on the edge of losing yourself around his fingers, you didn’t care if you were the hundredth step-daughter he’d done this to — it was worth it.
your walls clamped around his fingers as he thrusted them deeper, his other thumb rubbing hard and consistent circles over your sensitive nub. it was impossible to hold out any longer, the ball in your stomach flying undone as you rolled your hips into his hand and creamed all over his fingers. the room was filled with the prettiest mewls and whines, your body shaking and lurching as he kept feeling you even after your orgasm was fading.
only once you accidentally kicked him from the intensity of the overstimulation did he unsheath his fingers from your cunt, his skin glistening with your fluids. he shoved them into your mouth, your eyes widening as he offered a simple: “suck”.
but you did what you were told, you’d quickly learned that disobeying him would only lead to something worse. he smirked for the first time after he plucked them from your mouth, your lips making a satisfying popping sound.
“never gonna invite those boys over again, right?” he taunted you, an obvious bulge sitting in his dress pants.
you quickly shook your head no.
but if breaking the rules meant this would happen again?
you’d be breaking them every goddamn day.
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Text
Madripoor
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Requested by: MEEE cause this plot popped into my head the second I watched this episode
Summary: Bucky was just following Sharon’s advice to enjoy the party when he meets *yn*, what he isn’t counting on is that he most definitely won’t be staying out of trouble.
Warnings: THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER EP 3 SPOILERS YOU’VE BEEN WARNEDDDDD, fluff, swearing, violence
PART TWO (NAGEL)
--------------------------
“Lay low, blend in. Enjoy the party.” Sharon spoke as she made her way up the stairs. “Oh and try to stay out of trouble, I’ll see what I can find.” 
“Trouble?” Zemo smirked. 
--------
Sharon’s words echoed in Bucky’s ears as he made his way through the party. Sweaty bodies were pressed up against him as he ducked and weaved through the crowd. It felt like the pulsating music was drumming against his skull as he made his way up to the bar.
“I’m way too old for this.” He huffed out once he reached Sam, gesturing to the bartender for two shots.
“Old or lame? There’s a big difference.” Sam remarked as the pair simultaneously clinked their glasses together and skulled the liquid. Bucky smirked as he watched Sam cough and splutter.
“Now who’s the lame one?” Bucky chuckled, the liquid burning his throat.
“Maybe we both are. Look at Zemo, the dude may be weird but he’s got game.” Sam answered once he’d recovered. 
Bucky followed his gaze to see Zemo dancing in between two women, both giggling and chatting animately. He watched as Zemo suddenly began pumping his arm enthusiastically to the beat as the girls watched him wide eyed, before exchanging glancing and slipping back into the crowd without another word.
“On second thought dude’s just weird.”
Bucky let out a chuckle as he leant forward and grabbed the beer that the bartender had left out for him. He took a swig as he turned back around to face the party. He automatically swept over area, his eyes sliding over the hundreds of faces as he looked out for any threat.
He paused as his eyes fell on a flash of bright red material. 
Upon closer inspection he noted that the bright red material was in fact a silk dress that was covering the slender figure of a young woman. It was a halter dress that had a deep slit down the front and was almost completely backless, the silk material falling down almost to her ankles with another deep slit also running up her leg that exposed her thigh. 
He felt his grip on his beer tighten as his eyes fell on her face, revealing a pair of eyes framed by thick lashes and lips painted with a deep plum lipstick. She was snaking her way through the crowd, gracefully dodging drunken people as they stumbled their way around on the dance floor. 
As if she sensed his gaze her eyes flickered up and locked with his. The pair eyed each other for a few moments. She shot him a small smile before breaking their gaze.
“Now who would you be checking out hm?” Sam’s voice broke Bucky out of his almost trance like state. 
“No one.” Bucky answered gruffly, glancing over at Sam to see him smirking at him. 
“Sure Buck.”
Bucky ignored him and turned his head back to where the woman had been only moments ago. She was gone. He scanned the crowd and let out a small huff when he couldn’t see any sight of her. 
“Now, I need you to educate me on this art so I can impress some of the ladies.” Sam spoke up again, dragging Bucky’s attention from the crowd.
“What’s that one?” He asked pointing at a nearby painting.
“That’s the Wedding at Cana, painted by Paolo Veronese in 1563.”
“1562 actually.”
Bucky swivelled around, a breath catching in his throat when his eyes fell on the bright red dress. He had no idea how she’d managed to somehow appear beside him without him noticing. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair as he composed himself before answering, ensuring his face stayed void of emotion.
“I’m pretty sure it’s 1563 actually.”
His answer made her brow quirk up in amusement as she took a sip of her drink, her wrist twinkling due to a very expensive looking diamond bracelet dangling from it.
“Actually I think you’ll find it’s 1562. The copy in the Louvre might say 1563 but I suggest you take a peak at the original.” Her words made his eyes narrow as he studied her features. 
“Well maybe I will.” 
“Before you do that please feel free to continue educating your friend, I’m happy to sit here and correct you when you make another mistake.” She spoke, shooting him an overly warm smile which caused Bucky to grit his teeth. 
Sam let out a low whistle as the smirk on her lips widened. “Damn Buck I think you might’ve met someone more cultured than you.” 
“We’ll see about that.” Bucky muttered, taking a swig of his beer as he eyed her. 
“So how does someone like yourself become so knowledgable about stolen art?” Sam asked her, his eyes darting between the pair in amusement.
The girl shrugged as she took another sip of her drink before motioning to the bartender. “I know a lot about a lot of things.” 
“Really?” Bucky mused, this time it being his turn to raise a brow. “And does ‘miss knower of all things’ have a name?” 
“Miss knower of all things does.” She answered as she grabbed the shot glass and pressed it to her lips. Bucky eyed her profile intently, noting the way her plump lips wrapped around the lip of the glass and her eyes screwed shut as she slung her head back to let the liquid slide down her throat. 
“I love this song.” She remarked, finishing the remainder of her other drink before she rose from her seat. Bucky’s eyes followed her figure as she begun to make her way back to the dance floor. She paused and glanced over her shoulder, a smirk still present on her lips.
“You coming to dance with me or what Buck?” She queried, Sam’s nickname for him rolling off her tongue, amusement evident in her tone.
Bucky eyed her for a few moments before glancing over at Sam. “Sharon did say to enjoy the party.” Sam grinned.
“Try not to be too lame or old huh?” He continued, patting his shoulder encouragingly as Bucky rose from his chair. 
“Thanks.” Bucky muttered as he cautiously approached the woman in red. Her smirk widened as he made his way towards her. “C’mon.” He heard her say as she leant forward and took his gloved hand in hers and tugged him into the crowd.
If she was saying anything to him, he couldn’t hear as he felt himself become engulfed in the crowd as she pulled him deeper into the dance floor. After a few moments she came to a stop and swivelled around to face him. He felt himself grow slightly red as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, swaying her hips to the beat.
“Are you really not going to tell me your name?” Bucky spoke, practically shouting to make himself heard over the thumping base.
“Why do you want to know? You never danced with a stranger before?” She answered back.
“No I just- I usually know people’s names before I dance with them.” He replied which caused her to let out a small laugh. “Back in my day we used to go out to dinner first.” He added silently in his head. 
His heart thumped against his chest as she pulled him closer to her and leant up so her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “My name’s *yn*.” 
“*yn*.” Bucky echoed, her smile widening at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. “And what brings you to a place like Madripoor?” 
“You ask a lot of questions.” She observed matter-of-factly.  
Before Bucky could open his mouth to respond, *yn* twisted around, keeping one arm slung around his neck as she pressed her back up against his body. Bucky bit his lip to prevent a hiss from escaping his mouth as *yn* began to rotate her hips to the rhythm of the music, the fabric of her dress pressing against the material of his black suit pants.
This certainly beat online dating.
“Just relax, enjoy the party.” *yn* laughed breathlessly, echoing Sam’s words from before as she pressed even harder against him. Bucky let his eyes flutter shut as he felt his hands automatically move to grip her hips as he started to move his own body in time with the thumping bass. 
His grip on her hips tightened as she lolled her head back against his chest, her hot breath fanning onto his neck as the pair moved in sync. 
If only Steve could see him now.
As he grew more comfortable he let his gloved hands begin to wander, trailing over her lower stomach before gliding down her thighs. “What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?” He heard *yn* murmur into his ear. 
He felt *yn*’s body stiffen as his hands crept lower to just below her panty line. Before he could answer, her hand suddenly shot out to grip his wrist and cease his movements but not before his hand suddenly brushed over an unexpected bump on her leg. 
A shape that felt suspiciously like a-
A hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder causing him to jerk his hands away in surprise just as *yn* pulled away from his grasp. “I’m sorry to break up the party but Sharon’s found our guy-” Sam cut himself off as Bucky swivelled around to stare at him, his eyes wide in surprise.
“You good man?” Sam asked, concern written on his features when he noticed Bucky’s look of surprise.
“I-” Bucky cut himself off before looking back to *yn*.
His brow furrowed as his eyes instead fell on a drunk man currently sculling a beer out of a shoe. He frantically looked around, muttering a curse under his breath when he realised *yn* was no where to be seen. 
It was like she had vanished without a trace.
“Oh painting girl pulled a runner? Don’t worry about it man happens to the best of us.” Sam comforted, patting his shoulder once more. 
Bucky felt a ripple of suspicion wash over him but he decided against telling Sam about it as he finally pulled his gaze away from the crowd to look at Sam. “Let’s get Zemo. We should talk somewhere private.”
--------------------
“Alright what have you found?” Sam asked. Zemo, Bucky, Sharon and Sam were all piled into a private coat room located directly above the party. The bass was still so loud that Bucky could feel the vibrations through the tiled floor. The door was locked with a few security guards located outside and on the stairs leading up to the room. 
Bucky sighed, his mind swimming with thoughts of *yn* as he ripped his gloves off. He couldn’t shake a feeling of suspicious that was gnawing at him that there was something off about *yn*.
“I’ve spoken to a few buyers and I’ve got a location on Doctor Nagel.” Sharon spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “He was pretty hard to track down but he’s definitely still here in Madripoor. He’s at the shipping yard.”
Bucky stiffened when he swore he head a thump outside the door, a thump that didn’t correlate with the sound from the party. He strained his ears and sure enough, another thump followed suit a few minutes lately. 
“Bucky?”
“You sure no one can get up here?” Bucky queried, looking over to Sharon. 
“I’m sure. This is a restricted area, I’ve got all the entrances guarded.” She answered, watching him as he made his way to the door.
“Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam asked.
Bucky held his hand up to signal everyone to be quiet as he pressed his ear against the wood. He held his breath as he listened intently. There were a few moments of quiet until he head another thump and a small moan. 
Without warning Bucky ripped open the door and stepped out into the hallway. He nearly tripped over when his foot hit a solid form. He glanced down to see one of the guards lying at his feet, letting out low moans of pain. His eyes travelled down the hall to see all of the guards were either unconscious or were too dazed to get to their feet. 
He froze when his eyes fell on an all too familiar red dress. 
Bucky locked eyes with *yn*, her lips parted in surprise and chest heaving up and down as she tried to regain her breath. The pair stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, the silence almost deafening as they eyed each other. 
“Bucky!” Sam called out, shattering the silence.
Bucky was only distracted for a split second but *yn* took it, turning around and sprinting down the stairs. “Hey!” Bucky shouted, taking off after her ignoring Sam’s shouts from behind him. 
Bucky leapt down the winding stairs, catching brief glimpses of the red material before it disappeared around the next corner. Finally his feet planted on the lower floor. His eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto *yn*’s figure as she pushed through the crowd.
His jaw locked and he could feel himself enter into winter soldier mode as he stormed forward and plunged into the throng of people. He ignored protests and exclamations of surprise as he shoved people out of the way, parting them like the red sea as he kept his eyes focused on her like a laser beam. 
*yn* glanced over her shoulder and the pair briefly locked eyes before she turned around once more and broke out of the crowd, sprinting towards a door with a neon exit sign hanging above it. 
Bucky was hot on her heels, shoving the door open revealing another set of stairs. He hurried up the stairs and got to a landing revealing two doors. He noted that the left door was slightly ajar and he pushed through it revealing a large hall.
He sprinted into the centre of it, coming to a stop when he saw no sight of *yn*. He did a 360 of the room, craning his neck to look around. The room was empty except for a few large wooden boxes covered in tarps. Clearly this was where Sharon kept the less impressive stolen art.
“Come on.” Bucky muttered under his breath as he looked around. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop but his senses were telling him that he wasn’t alone in this room.
*yn* was here, if that was even her name.
He let out a grunt of surprise as a sold object hit his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He could feel limbs wrapping around his neck and his torso as slender arms pulled his neck into a headlock. He let another grunt as he brought his hands up to grip onto the arm that was around his throat.
He furrowed his brow in surprise when he pulled at the arms and found them unbudging. He tried once more, mustering all the strength he had but *yn*’s grip remained unmoving. He gritted his teeth and took a couple steps before shoving his back into one of the wooden crates.
He heard *yn* let out a small moan of pain as her body smacked against the solid mass with full force. Sure enough, her grip loosened slightly which allowed Bucky to pull her arm from his neck and throw her body over his head and off him. 
She twisted her body in the air so that she landed in a crouched position but still on her feet. Bucky watched her as she rose to her full height, her body slightly gleaming with sweat under the sterile light. She took a few steps back from him and leant down to spread apart her dress, revealing a black thigh garter.
Just as Bucky had suspected on the dance floor, sheathed inside the thigh garter was a small blade. He watched as she pulled it from her thigh, gripping it tightly in her hand.
“You picked the wrong dress tonight doll.” Bucky tutted as he took a few steps towards her.
“You don’t like it? I’m hurt.” *yn* pouted, placing a hand over her heart mockingly. 
“Trust me doll, I like it.” Bucky answered, letting his eyes briefly dart from the dagger in her hand to her dress. “But it’s not exactly the best dress for blending in and slipping away unnoticed.” 
“Who ever said I wanted to slip away unnoticed?” *yn* answered, a mischievous glint in her eye as the pair began to slowly circle each other. Her words made his forehead crease in confusion as he studied her intently. 
“So you know who I am?” 
“I do.” *yn* nodded as she twisted the knife in between her fingers. “The зимний солдат.” 
Her answer made Bucky’s lips part slightly in surprise. “That is what they call you, isn’t it?” She mused.
“Who are you?” Bucky snapped causing her to smirk to widen.
“What were those magic words again, Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать-”
Bucky suddenly lurched forward, taking *yn* by surprise. She reacted instinctively, bringing the blade up from her side towards his stomach. Bucky gripped her wrist using his right arm, stopping the knife only inches from his flesh. He pulled her closer to him and raised his metal arm to strike her. With lightning fast reflexes her other arm shot up and her hand enclosed around his fist.
He glanced up at her in surprise when she pushed against his metal arm, stopping his fist from colliding with her jaw. He grunted as he mustered up more strength in an attempt to break out of her grasp to no avail. They were evenly matched in strength. 
He had no idea who she was but now he was certain of one thing. They both had super soldier serum running through their veins. 
*yn* took advantage of Bucky’s surprise and lifted a leg up, kicking him squarely in the stomach, her stiletto heel digging into his skin. Bucky spluttered as he felt the wind get knocked out of him, loosening his grip on her arms. *yn* reacted quickly, knocking his feet from underneath him and jumping on top of him. 
Bucky groaned as his back hit the concrete floor and *yn* straddled him, pinning both of his arms above his head with one hand and pressing her dagger to his throat with the other.
“I think I liked you better when I was showing you up in front of your friend.” She remarked as she pressed the blade firmly against his skin.
“And I think I liked you better when you were dancing on me and not trying to kill me.” Bucky spat back as he squirmed underneath her causing *yn* to cock her head to the side, an amused expression on her features.
“Now whoever said I wanted to kill you?” 
“Hmm I don’t know, could be the knife you’ve got against my throat.” He growled, wincing as the metal dug even further into his flesh. *yn* let out a breathy laugh as she leant down towards his face.
“Trust me pretty boy, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” 
The sound of footsteps approaching and Sam calling Bucky’s name made both their heads jerk towards the door before Bucky could answer her. This time it was Bucky’s turn to take advantage of *yn* being caught off guard. He managed to wriggle his metal arm out of her iron like grip and instantly lurched up to grab her around the throat. 
*yn* spluttered in surprise, instinctively dropping her dagger to use both her hands to struggle against his vice like grip. Bucky used all of his core strength to push her off him and roll himself on top of her. Now he was so close up to her and under bright light, he could see that her skin was littered with small scars and bullet holes. 
*yn*’s face was slowly growing red as she desperately gasped for air, her body squirming underneath him as she clawed at his metal arm. “I’m not going to ask you again, who the hell are you?” Bucky spat, glaring down at her as he desperately searched her eyes for some sort of answer.
“I don’t-” She spluttered, “I didn’t come here to hurt you, please-” She continued, her voice barely a whisper as her airway grew more restricted. For the first time since Bucky had locked eyes with her, he could see some form of fear and desperation reflecting back at him. The pair eyed each other for a few moments before Bucky slowly eased his grip around her throat, just enough for her to regain some air. *yn* gasped at the feeling of oxygen entering her lungs once more.
“Woah, what the fuck-” 
Bucky looked up to see Sam, Sharon and Zemo staring at the pair with wide eyes, all three of them with their weapons raised. 
“What part of stay out of trouble did you not understand?” Sharon queried, an exacerbated expression on her features.
“Trouble found me.” Bucky answered gruffly as he looked back down at *yn*. The fear that had been present on her features only moments ago had vanished, the cocky and flirtatious mask had been slipped back on. 
“Not that I really mind this position, but given that the cavalry’s arrived, do you mind getting off me?” *yn* asked Bucky coolly. 
Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unamused at her remark as he studied her. “You’re not going to try and kill me again?” 
“I already told you, I don’t want to kill you.” *yn* huffed, rolling her eyes. 
Bucky studied her for a few moments before finally relenting and releasing her throat from his grip. He pushed himself off her and rose to his feet but not before grabbing her dagger and sliding it into his suit pants. 
*yn* got herself up from the ground, her breathing still ragged as she ran a hand through her hair and tucked her strays behind her ears. 
“You wanna tell us who this is Bucky?” Sharon asked, eyeing *yn* up and down.
“Supposedly her name is *yn*-”
“-not supposedly, it is *yn*.”
“-she seems to like not answering questions about herself.” Bucky ignored *yn*’s input. “Oh and she’s had the super soldier serum.” 
“Might want to keep an eye on your friend over there, I know he’s in the habit of murdering anyone who’s come within walking distance of the stuff.” *yn* remarked dryly shooting Zemo a dirty look. 
“Hello to you too darling.” Zemo grinned causing Sharon to roll her eyes.
“Who are you? Who the hell do you work for?” Sharon quizzed her.
“I don’t work for anyone.” *yn* snapped back.
“The flag smashers?” Sam asked causing *yn*’s face to contort into a look of disgust. “Fuck no, I don’t work with those amateurs.” 
“Just tell us what you want or I’m going to have to detain you.” Sharon spoke. There was a brief pause as *yn* studied Sharon before looking over to Bucky.
“You’re not the only one looking for answers, зимний солд��т.” She answered quietly, her features softening for a moment as she looked at him.
“Well then maybe we can help each other get answers then.” Bucky murmured back.
The pair studied each other for a few moments before a loud honk suddenly sounded outside. Gun shots rang out from underneath them followed by loud screams and shouts. Bucky, Zemo, Sam and Sharon looked around in confusion as the sound of hundreds of footsteps began to grew louder and louder. 
“Sorry kids, that’s my ride. Gotta fly.”
Within a few seconds the door burst open and hundreds of party goers flooded the room, shouting for help as they fled from the gun fire. Bucky glanced over to where *yn* had been only a few seconds ago to see that she was sprinting towards the only window in the room. 
Bucky pushed through the panicked crowd, watching helplessly as *yn* reached the raised window. She clambered up onto the ledge and shoved the window open. She glanced over her shoulder and the pair locked eyes when Bucky was practically within arms length of her. 
“I’ll be sure to send Doctor Nagel your regards, Buck.” She taunted. “We should do this again sometime, maybe without trying to hurt each other.” She smirked, sending him a wink before leaping off the ledge. Bucky scrambled up onto the ledge and poked his head out to see *yn* sliding down a pipe fixed to the outside of the building. 
He watched helplessly as her stilettos hit the ground. She approached a waiting motorcycle, the driver holding out a helmet for her expectantly. She took the helmet and slung her leg over the seat, sliding her helmet on as the driver throttled the engine. She looked up to the window and gave Bucky a wave before wrapping her arms around the driver’s waist.
“Fuck.” Bucky cursed as he watched the motorbike peel off into the bustling street, going completely unnoticed by the rest of the public amid the chaos. 
“She’s gone?” Sam queried as the other three appeared beside Bucky at the window.
“Hm.” Bucky grunted, clenching his jaw in annoyance as he watched the motorbike disappear from sight. 
“She was kind of terrifying.” Sam remarked matter of factly. 
“I thought for sure she was going to gut you, James.” Zemo observed.
Bucky stayed silently, clearly brooding as he stared out into the street as Sam studied him in amusement. 
“I think Bucky’s in love.” 
PART TWO (NAGEL)
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зимний солдат = winter soldier
Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать = Longing, Rusted, Seventeen.
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I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH!?!? As always feedback is appreciated!!!! Please give it back here xx
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raggaraddy · 3 years
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Can you please do a yandere hyung line reaction to MC being jealous and tries to hide it ( For jin could you please make it as his wife has come back for a short holiday or something)
A/N: My brain did not want to do the writing thing the last couple of days, but I got there. I think these stories are good? but somehow they all ended up a bit soft. I hope you like them though 🤞 because it was a great request! Thank you 💜💜💜
@blacksnow160
Summary: Hyung line reaction when you get jealous.
Trigger warning: Smut, violence, blood-drinking, murder, abuse, yandere themes.
Alpha! Namjoon
Normally you didn't consider yourself clingy. You enjoyed your personal space and your time alone. But at the same time, you've also become accustomed to Namjoon dropping everything to take care of you. This entire week though, he's been preoccupied with a territorial issue, and the last 3 nights he hasn't even come to bed.
Leaving you feeling a little discarded, to say the least.
Nevertheless, you're a mature adult, and you were able to let it go with the knowledge that Namjoon is an Alpha who has responsibilities and knowing that he would still rather be with you.
It is, however, a comfort that you have trouble holding on to whenever you see the new girl around him. It's not like you're jealous. It's just that she doesn't seem to know how to behave respectfully or appropriately around Namjoon. She always stands too close or looks at him a bit too much, and she's way too touchy. Only his elbow, arm, or shoulder. But it's like, get your fucking hands off him.
Rationally, you know Joon is your mate and you own his heart, mind, and body. Still, it doesn't stop you from tossing restlessly, laying in bed at 2 am, once again alone. The two things added together making you feeling sour. Feeling sick of being sent away while this other girl gets to stick around being way too familiar with your Boyfriend.
Coming downstairs in your pyjamas, you weave in among the wolves working your way to Namjoon. Standing at the dining table, looking over a mess of paper, he notices you right away a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
"Y/n, what are you doing up?"He asks, checking his watch.
There she is again, right next to him. Her hand casually coming off his shoulder when she sees you.
"It's late. Go back to bed, Beautiful." he coos.
You ignore his instruction. Wrapping to his side by pushing yourself between him and this girl, creating space for yourself with a not-so-subtle shoving of your elbow into her arm. Smiling up at him sweetly as he accepts your presence, hugging you tightly.
"We're going to be busy most of the night. You should go to bed." he leans down to whisper, his breath tickling your ear. He's trying not to draw the focus from the rest of the table into your personal discussion.
"I'll go up when you come with me." You whisper back.
"It's going to be a few more hours still baby." He sighs, seeming frustrated with the circumstances.
"Then I'm staying here."
"You shouldn't-"
"Don't argue with me Kim Namjoon. You're not going to win this one." While it's said in jest, you also mean it. He'll have to drag you upstairs to make you go. And if he steps foot in that bedroom, you both know you'll be able to make him stay.
"Oh really?" He challenges, fighting the smile growing on his face, not wanting to encourage your mischievous behaviour.
Grabbing the collar of his black tee, you pull him down to your height, smacking your lips against his. Kissing him passionately and longingly. Something you haven't been able to do for nearly a full week.
Letting his shirt go, his smile is fully grown. His dimples on display.
"Really." You finalize, looking up at him coquettishly.
You can see the struggle playing in his mind. He's extremely tempted to throw you over his shoulder and take you upstairs right now, his wolf fighting to shirk his responsibilities and give in to desire. His chest rumbling lowly as he winks down at you.
"Okay baby." his fingers dig into your hips, "If you're gonna play dirty, you can stay." He teases with a chuckle. Resisting the bait.
Feeling calmed and relaxed on the warmth of his hold again, a smug sense of pride fills your chest. From the corner of your eye, you can see her attention on the two of you. Your ego is not able to resist, and you shoot a cold pointed glare at her. A smirk creeping onto your face as she looks down, avoiding your eye line.
"Seeing as it's late, do you wanna make coffee for everyone?" You order her in the form of a question, speaking loudly enough for both her and Namjoon to hear your sassy, obvious tone.
She looks a little stunned. She'd just been promoted to the inner circle for this problem-solving session, and she doesn't seem pleased at being asked to perform menial tasks. Trying to go over your head, she looks at the Alpha for confirmation. But he doesn't give it to her. Instead, you can feel him nod, supporting your order. A full smile filling your face as you get his backing.
"Of course, Luna." she obeys, looking a little dejected.
"Thank you." you shoo her to action with a sing-song voice. Curling into Namjoons side, you can't help but feel authoritative. And a little bit victorious.
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King! Seokjin
It had been nearly two weeks since you had seen Jin last. As frustrating as it was, you were genuinely missing him. There was a kind of energy he had when it was just the two of you. Something that filled you, and without him you were feeling like your own spirit was draining away.
It would be okay though, today Jin was coming back from visiting his wife and children. You're sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. That he was as excited to see you, as you were to see him. You were a little worried knowing that you would have to satisfy his sadism first, but you can tolerate it, thinking that at least you'll get to see his smile.
As the day is drawing to an end, you've finished all your tasks but you refuse to retire for the night, certain the King is going to call for you at any minute. Feeling a mix of excitement and relief when the staff manager comes to collect you.
Nearly skipping you rush to the dining hall, having been instructed to serve dinner to the King and his guest. Working with another maid to bring the meals from the kitchen.
Walking in, the smile you were trying to conceal disappears completely. Your stomach dropping. Jin's guest is the Princess. His wife.
You have to control your expression to hide your distress, feeling sick while serving him. His wife never comes down. She hasn't in a year and a half. Jin doesn't even really like her. It doesn't make sense why she's here.
With a curt bow, you remove the closh and place the plate down. Meeting the King's eye for a moment, you do your best to placify your appearance. Your efforts cracking when you see his lips pulling ever so slightly into a knowing smile.
He dismisses the other maid, but not you. Sending you to the waiting station by the wall. You're stuck watching over their conversation. Feeling more and more insecure as you look at the Princess's regality and beauty. Getting more frustrated as your mind runs rampant.
How long is she going to stay? It doesn't seem like they brought the Princes, so she has to go back soon. And what kind of mother leaves her children alone? It doesn't even matter that she's here, you know Jin likes you more. So what if she is really pretty, he can't hurt her like he can you. You make him happy. She's just a prop he was given to secure a treaty. He actually chose you.
Slowly, you're building yourself into a craze. Making yourself feel sad until the very end of the meal. Finally, their dinner date ends and he stands, kindly bowing to see her off. Leaving only you and him in the hall.
Relaxing back in his seat, he finishes the remainder of his drink.
"Y/n." Holding his empty glass to the side, he calls you over. You follow his gesture and top up his cup. Avoiding looking directly at him again. Pacing back to your place when he stops you.
"Come here." He grins, enjoying how uncomfortable you are. "You met my wife today." He pushes the difficult topic, again probing for your reaction.
Nodding softly, you're trying to not let your bitterness out. You know Jin doesn't like it when you pout.
"Are you jealous Princess?" He holds his hand out for you to take, leading you closer to him. Leaning back to create a space for you on his lap. Guiding you over him with your legs spread.
"No, your Majesty." You shake your head, your pause and hesitation giving away the truth.
Jin's gentle touch comes off your hand, his grip instead ripping back your hair, arching your back and nearly yanking you off of his lap. Biting back a shriek, you can't keep entirely quiet, whimpering as his fist curls tighter and closer to your scalp.
"Are you lying to me?" His mouth latches onto your shoulder, biting into your muscle vindictively. Unbridling that scream you had tried to smother.
"Yes. I'm sorry your Majesty!" you cry out, tears building in your eyes. "I'm jealous. I missed you. I want you-" all the truth is pouring out, but you hesitate worried you're being too bold, "all to myself."
His grip comes out of your hair. His hand instead raking down your chest, leaving painful red marks as each nail digs along the skin. Continuing lower, tearing the buttons on your dress. Yanking down your bra also, exposing your breasts. His other hand hikes the fabric up around your thighs, stopping on your waist, lowering your hips into him.
Pinching your nipple, he draws you closer until his lips are just off yours. Gasping through the initial pain, you can only whine and bite your lip to further keep quiet.
"Go on Princess. Prove to me why I should have missed you."
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Assassin! Yoongi
Over the past couple of weeks, Yoongi would be gone for days at a time. Coming back in a strangely talkative and happy mood. You were as miserable and depressed as always, but his vigour was somehow revitalizing and comforting. It made him easier to deal with. It made him less moody. And it made your life easier. So to begin with you were very happy that he was happy.
That was until he mentioned a name in passing. A woman's name. Someone he was working with on a project.
As soon as you heard him talking positively about her, a pang of anxiety spiked through your stomach. From then on it rested in your gut, making you irritated, uncomfortable, and flustered every time you heard about or thought about her.
It was the strangest thing. You hated Yoongi, you're sure of it. But he was all you had. And hearing him talk about another woman, even though it sounded platonic, the adoration in his voice was hurting you in a way you never expected.
Slowly you had to work through this feeling on your own. You couldn't bear to let Yoongi know, not certain what he would do with the information that you were, in lack of a better word, jealous.
The more you heard about this woman, you knew you could never be as impressive as her. Every detail sounding equally terrifying and awe-inspiring. To be honest the specifics slipped your mind, as you were mostly wrapped up in self-pity when Yoongi spoke about her.
All you know is that you felt inferior, and you were craving, longing to feel that kind of importance to Yoongi, also. Resenting the fact that this other person was so easily able to bring joy and energy out of him.
Over the next couple of weeks, you spent every waking moment thinking about how to make Yoongi happy. Not just avoiding annoying him, like you usually did, but instead thinking about how to bring him genuine enjoyment.
One time you spent hours making him a meal. Making something you knew he would love. But, unfortunately, he only complained about the mess. He said he wasn't hungry and left you to throw the food away and clean up.
Another time, you had planned a full evening of activities. Movies, snacks, games that would help you get to know each other better, anything fun you could organize with your limited resources. Only, he wasn't in the mood to play, or talk. He only wanted one thing, and when he was done, he left you alone in your room, feeling used and a bit sore.
However, that gave you an idea. Maybe you could connect with him physically first. Then that might give you a way for something, anything more to develop.
This time, you set the house up with candles, music, wine, chocolate strawberries, everything you'd seen in movies. Waiting for him on the couch in something a little provocative. But, as soon as he comes in from the garage he looks more annoyed than impressed. Rolling his eyes, ordering you to your room.
By this stage it's late, you're tired, and you're losing your mind trying to make him happy. You were fighting so hard for his attention, and he was barely tolerating you. You aren't thinking clearly as you snap at him.
"Why?!" You yell, stomping your foot down. "I'm working so hard and you're just being an asshole!"
The words come out and you instantly regret them. His straight expression hardening.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his chest trying to soothe any reaction. "Just tell me what I can do." You plead. Exasperated by so many failed attempts.
"That depends. What do you want?" He honestly questions, looking down at you.
You weren't exactly prepared to answer this question. You're not sure you really know.
"I'm your's right?" you say with big eyes, your voice coming out so softly, feeling embarrassed even though you're mimicking his words. "I get that I have to be yours. But then you have to be mine too." Your voice trembles.
Finally, it makes sense to Yoongi. Your change in demeanour, and in behaviour. Why you've been so needy. Why you've been trying to get his attention. He understands now. And that was most of what was annoying him. Not knowing why you were acting differently.
He steps out of your grasp, calling for you to follow him upstairs. You're not so nervous as you do. Surprisingly, the revelation has given Yoongi has a warm smile.
Falling back onto his bed, he taps the space beside him, inviting you to join him. You climb into the middle of the bed, resting in the place he set for you, his arm laid out under your head. He curls into you, gently wrapping his arm over your waist. Hugging you.
For the first time ever, he is showing you some kind of affection. For the first time, he's actually making a gesture of warmth and comfort. You couldn't even let yourself think that Yoongi could be capable of this. Having spent so many months isolated and alone. Even when you weren't locked up.
Hating yourself for not being stronger, you break into silent tears. Biting your thumb to stifle any sobs.
While reason is battling in your head, telling you that it's a bad idea to form any kind of emotional attachment to him, you don't want to listen to logic right now. Letting yourself cling to Yoongi and the desperately needed human connection.
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Vampire! Hoseok
There was a delicate balance to your relationship with Hoseok. You couldn't exactly rely on his moods to be stable, but you could rely on his obsession with you. It was the only thing that kept you feeling secure. Feeling certain that when he bit you next he wouldn't let you bleed out. Or that when he hit you or cut you or hurt you, that he wasn't going to leave you to suffer in agony but would heal you. Because he wanted to keep you. You were his.
It was a twisted kind of reassurance. But it's what you had, so it's what you worked with.
You knew the source of his obsession. It was you as a person, sure. But you weren't kidding yourself. Mostly, his infatuation was with your blood. Hoseok wasn't specific about it, but you had overheard some of the other Vampires discussing you. Apparently, you smell delicious, and that's why he never lets you wander the house with any cuts. That's why you were locked away every 28 days. And that's why you were his only.
It didn't make sense to you, there was nothing different about you.
But somehow you'd fallen in and become the star of your very own YA horror story.
Whatever the cause though, you were aware that Hoseok's addiction to your blood was the reason that he kept you. Without that, he might simply kill you, or worse, he might throw you to one of the other bloodsuckers who look at you like a happy meal they want to fuck.
Which is probably why you were so defensive when you saw him biting another girl.
Sitting on the back terrace looking over the gated property, Hoseok and a few of his creations were sitting in the moonlight enjoying a drink. You'd come downstairs expecting to be his refill when you see him sinking his fangs into the arm of one of the human pets.
Frustration floods through your body, a new kind of anger making your hands shake. A malicious and honestly, not-all-together thought out idea springs into your head. You've never seen him drink from anyone else before, and you need to remind him that he should only want you.
Taking a serrated peeler from the bar at the side of the terrace, you hold it concealed in your palm, going up to the first Vampire leaning there.
"Are you thirsty?" you ask, speaking lowly. He, like all the others, know you're Hoseok's, and so he rightfully looks uncomfortable being near you. Stepping into his personal space, you raise your arm under his chin and run the sharp blade across the top of your forearm. His eyes immediately going black, his fangs bared. Unable to resist what you're offering.
Behind you, every single one of them turns their heads, smelling you the second blood gathers on your skin.
In a flash, Hoseok is between the two of you. Ripping his teeth into the guy's neck, tearing his throat out. Killing him in an instant.
Breathing heavily, he turns to you with blood washed down his front. His eyes murderous and cold.
Retaliating, you storm towards the human-pet and shove her with all of your might, pushing her down the stone tile steps onto the grass. Watching her tumble into a heap.
Those around you have gone dead quiet, none of them even daring to look directly at either of you.
"How dare you?" He seethes, stalking towards you. But you're not backing down. You know better than to retreat from him when he charges.
"How dare I?" you scream. "How dare you drink from that skank!" An enraged Hoseok is something all of his offspring know to fear. Steadily you can see them clearing the space around the two of you. Withdrawing from whatever this is leading to.
"You want to tell me who I can eat?!" He growls, his hand shooting around your neck, holding you but not choking you. "You're a blood bag that I keep as a toy!"
"If that's all, then I'll let all of them feed on me too."
His hand constricts, restricting your air. "I'll kill anyone that tries."
"Then," you gasp, your words coming out short. "only me." you pull your hair off your shoulder, turning your neck as far to the side as you can. Throwing his head back, he takes the invitation, sinking his fangs into your jugular, swallowing down mouthfuls of your blood.
Holding onto his shoulders, you jump up wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing yourself closer to his mouth. Hoseok's arms wrapping around your ass, keeping you up.
Pushed back by your momentum, he stumbles a few steps, dropping down onto the open sofa chair. You landing on his lap, straddling his thighs.
As more of your blood is drained, and you get lightheaded, the pain starts to slip and your body starts to float. A euphoric sensation, akin to being high consuming you.
You tangle your hands up into his hair tugging it, massaging his scalp. You've become so accustomed to him fucking you when he feeds from you, that whenever he bites you, you get turned on. Your body reacting out of instinct. Slowly grinding down, rocking your hips into him as you start to get him hard. The friction feeling good making you moan. Making you move faster with pleasure tingling through your core also.
"Hobi," you moan. Shivering, as his tongue runs up your wounds.
Your gentle whine catches his attention. A surprised expression on his face that shifts into a smile as he leans back to watch you. His focus on you making you feel slightly embarrassed, slowing your motions until they stop altogether.
Biting his tongue, your eyes meet for a moment before he kisses his blood into your mouth, the copper taste feeling soothing and familiar. Your body relaxing completely knowing you'll wake up healed.
"Mine." He whispers into your lips.
The blood loss pulls you into unconsciousness, your head dropping onto his shoulder. The euphoric feeling swallowing you up as you purr back. "Mine."
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sombreboy · 3 years
Text
Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm
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[ 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
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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
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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."
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djarinsbeskar · 2 years
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Dorne Part 2 - Boxer!Din AU
A/N: A cheeky birthday gift for my darling CiCi @astroboots I hope you have the most wonderful day, filled with laughter, love, lots of Riley cuddles and gifts galore! Thank you for being one of the most precious friends I've been lucky enough to meet and spend every day annoying, being a menace to, chatting with you and getting a glimpse into that beautiful brain of yours. Hope you enjoy it my love! I’m sorry it’s a bit of a mess asdfghj.
Word Count: 2.7k
Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)
Warnings: SMUT! MFF oral sex (female receiving).
Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist | Dorne Part 1
“I wanna see if she’s as greedy for pussy too, baby—”
“Mm, you’re just full of good ideas today, sweetheart.”
You preened under his praise, ass pressing back in a feline arch where he bunched your dress up. Your guest was still busy on her knees—dutifully lapping at his cock while he pressed an indulgent kiss beneath your jaw, inhaling the perfume you favored and the musky—primal scent of arousal that clung to your flushed skin. He nosed along the line of your jaw, your fingers carding through his hair, completely lost in each other as he found your mouth again—a low groan lost along your tongue when the woman hollowed her cheeks around his sensitive head.
“First… I wanna see how greedy you are for pussy.”
The low lights cast shadows across your features, but the way your eyes darkened—pupils dilated and ringed with kohl and mascara—ritual paint for a sacrifice to a heathen god—had him snarling at the worship you and your companion lay against his body. He swallowed thickly at the striking smirk that morphed on painted lips, grazing his mouth but avoiding a kiss as you dragged them down the exposed length of his torso.
The length of your dress shifted like water—deceived his lust addled eyes to appear like the wily, tempting swish of a fox’s tail as you slinked down his body to stroke your fingers through the other woman’s hair.
You purred something into her ear – secret and alluring – a siren call that darkened her gaze as she turned away from his cock, fist slowly stroking him as you tempted her to stand with your mouth on hers, tongue stroking into her mouth as you rose. She was helpless to resist – fuck how could she – the way your eyes indulged in her bountiful curves and striking silhouette highlighted by a silver dress that ended up in a pool on the floor when you pulled the straps down and let gravity do the rest.
“No underwear?” you hummed as you circled the woman gracefully, and while your guest was naked and breath-taking, his eyes were just as easily pulled to your form as your legs extended with each step in an effortless prowl, without the bolstered force of a male—but softer, deadlier. A lioness—a hunter. His.
Fuck—
You made him sit—made him wait. And fuck, he indulged your little power play—it was enticing, for now. That’s what he told himself as he watched the scene unfurl before his eyes.
The noises you were able to drag out of your guest were filthy as she lay sprawled like a decadent buffet on the oversized ottoman – the quilted velvet easily the size of a king sized bed where it sat under the dark light in the center of the room – and was his sponsors ingenious way of getting around the ‘no bed’ situation in Dorne. Din couldn’t count the number of times he had to stop himself from gripping his cock to stroke some relief as your tongue delved expertly between her folds.
His fingers curled into his thigh, one hand massaging his balls distractedly as his lips twisted into a snarl.
The raven haired beauty – curls chaotic and wild fanning around her head – arched with a graceful bend in her spine. A dancer. Din mused as a licorice black melted into whiskey orbs—filling them with need as rich as his appetite for sex. They dropped to your hand pressing into the supple, toned flesh of her thigh to spread her legs wider. All part of the show… giving him a perfect view of the glistening slick gathering between puffy lips you were holding open with your other hand to flick your tongue over her hooded clit and curl up to gather that arousal on it.
“Mm… baby—she tastes so good…”
You were on your knees on the ottoman—down on your elbows with your ass in the air for him to watch the barely-there strip of fabric you called underwear darken with your own desire, gorgeous thighs accentuated by the suspenders that made up that fucking sinful lingerie set he had bought for you.
Fuck you were gorgeous… pink tongue that had lapped at his cock earlier now dripping saliva onto the pretty pussy of your guest, fingers smearing it into her slick with quick rubs over her clit and slit—making her cry with the pleasure as wetness leaked from her cunt and into your mouth. He could feel his muscles hum, a tense film of pressure running along his nerves and making him need to move. To stalk over there and take what as his. Waiting only made his neck strain with the growl he directed at the ceiling and your mischievous giggle incite a feral snarl in return.
“Come taste,” you looked over your shoulder, lips shiny and swollen from where he had ravaged your mouth—eyes weaving a spell over him, and he was helpless to resist you. He shot up, a bullet—a bull towards the cape as you refused to break eye contact when you kissed her navel, beckoning him over.
He was parched.
And your mouth was the first thing he needed. Hand moulding over the curve of your ass to dip along that strip of fabric between your cheeks, he pressed his fingers against your slick pussy lips from over your underwear and devoured your mouth. Groaning at the combined taste of your natural essence and the sweet tang of your guest, an accented aroma that brought you both to a frenzied high as his tongue greedily pillaged every drop.
The dancer – he decided she must have been – keened as he lost himself in your mouth, pulling his attention down to her naked form. He moaned with a feral lace of pride as he saw your fingers disappearing into her cunt with long, teasing strokes—your mouth finding his neck as he watched. Eyes only falling shut when you bit him. Bit him so hard his cock twitched violently—a silent claim in this hedonistic indulgence.
Mine.
The mark said.
Fuck, you were perfect. He gripped your jaw from where you were worrying a trail of marks into his flesh to kiss you hard,
“Back to work,” he growled.
And just like that, the dynamic shifted—an easy dominance he knew you weren’t strong enough to resist. Not when it was him. You might dominate your guest, but you would submit to him.
Challenge flared in those orbs, the woman on the ottoman gasping your name when your disobedience, your defiance showed itself in a third finger inside her dripping cunt—a hard swipe across her clit. Retaliating. He led your head down, back between her legs, and you followed—caught off guard when his free hand tugged your panties to the side to give your pussy a series of quick slaps.
You were drenched.
Slap slap slapslapslap—you mewled into her pussy, sucking her clit into your mouth as you fingered her—his own fingers grazing your neglected clit and making you push your ass back against him. He dropped to his elbow beside the dancer – Ally? Abby? Still no clue – and dropped his mouth to one of the peaked tips of her breasts. They were begging for attention, crowned in the glisten of his saliva as his tongue circled one, then the other—graveled growls soft and honey sweet against her skin while he stroked your hair.
“Talented, isn’t she? That tongue is a sin—”
“So greedy for my girl’s tongue…”
“Why don’t you beg for mine?”
And she did.
She begged. Begged for your tongue—begged for his, begged for you both. You glanced up her body, a landscape of willowy curves and heaving breasts as warbled pleas spilled from those pretty lips. You withdrew your fingers – she sobbed – to paint that body as you moved up it and Din took your place. Streaks of sticky slick stained her skin in the journey your fingers took up her toned stomach and between her breasts. You caught her whimpers with your mouth when Din’s tongue dragged a long swipe along her cunt, his facial hair sanding against soft skin and making her spasm under his tongue at the mixture of sensations. So different to the softness of your body.
He growled into her wet heat when she managed to pull your breasts from over the top of your bra, a pert nipple swallowed into her mouth when you leaned up enough to let her play. Giving him a sinners view of your wet cunt and rapturous expression when your head fell back between your shoulders as you leaned over her face, letting her ravish your tits and make moans spill wantonly from your lips.
It drove him wild, and he channeled it all into devouring her pussy with rapt dedication.
“Open,” he snarled when her legs tried to close around his head—her gasp of pleasure muffled around your breast when he forced even more juices from her as two thick digits speared her entrance. You keened, arching your back as you held her head to your breast, grinding your hips back in some desperate attempt to find relief. Relief your guest gave you with her fingers between your legs, rubbing over your clit in frantic swipes over your underwear.
“Din,” you panted, and he was delirious.
Drunk on the taste of you both, drunk on the fact that even receiving pleasure from another—it was his name you moaned. He wanted to take you right then and there, but fair was fair.
Your guest sobbed when he pulled away—cunt clenching where his fingers once were and the orgasm that had been cresting ebbed with a rock of her hips as she chased it. You dropped a kiss to her cheek, soothing her cries for release as you cupped her jaw to swallow them.
Din watched your hand slither down to her cunt once more, fingers splitting around her clit lazily while he shed the open shirt he still had on, kicking his pants off while he was at it.
“Up here, sweetheart—” he commanded once he was free, heavy cock in hand when he settled down on the ottoman. He smirked at the cogs turning in your head—shown in the glint of curiosity in those gorgeous eyes before you crawled into his lap to cup his cheeks. You cleaned his face of the other woman’s essence with kitten licks and languid kisses, and he almost lost himself in you—almost. He turned you with a guiding hand to your shoulders, your back to his chest while he nudged your temple with a growl, “gorgeous… so fucking gorgeous—”
You wriggled slightly – poor thing… untouched, desperate for relief – and he hooked your legs over his, spreading your thighs wide for the dancer to see how wet you were—her dark eyes turning obsidian as she crawled on all fours between your legs, kissing you indulgently and then him.
“Make my girl feel good, then you can cum,” he purred against her mouth, turning to press a kiss into your temple when you whimpered, your hand having dropped to stroke over your clothed clit.
He pulled it away – behave, baby – and you whined into his mouth as you turned your face up to kiss him, whispering against his mouth in nonsensical strings of babble—asking for more, please please please Din.
The woman watched you in awe, the control you had over her melting to willing submission as you kissed his scruffy jaw with wet licks.
The temptation to just fuck you right there and then—to turn you over and mount you roared in his mind with a territorial claim. Your pleas whispered so softly into his skin, he ached to fill you—to turn those pleas into cries of bliss as he sank his cock into you. Not yet. He wanted to see you come undone on another’s tongue as he directed them. The indirect pleasure he would give you—it was impossible to resist.
He pulled your panties to the side again as the woman kissed up your thighs, across your navel – that’s it… tease her – and the air on your cunt – soaked with desire – made you bite your lip, eyes fluttering closed when her wet breath fell onto it.
“Spead her open for me—” Din hummed, revelling in the wet squelch of them against her fingers as she opened you wide, her eyes full of hunger and her tongue flicking out across her lips. They lifted to him, her thighs rubbing together from where her own naked cunt was exposed and wanting as she waited, nuzzling her nose into the seam of your thigh—the trembling clench of your pussy finally making him show you some mercy.
The image of another woman’s face buried in your cunt when he finally allowed her to slake her hunger for your arousal made him feel more powerful than any victory in the ring, any bowed submission by bolstered masculinity from unworthy adversaries. It was an incomparable lust—to see you pleasured this way—framed by his body, the tongue between your folds under his command, and the both of you eager to please him—to please each other. Masculine pride that didn’t need overbearing territoriality, but a guiding hand and the trust you both put in him. That is what made his cock leak and twitch against your back.
“Avoid her clit—”
You whimpered.
“Two fingers in that needy cunt… listen to how soaked you are baby—”
She fingered you diligently, slender digits echoing the patterns he knew would have you crying—have you squirming had he not kept you prisoner against his chest—patterns he dictated. A swipe to your clit by her thumb, a mercy on her part—and he snarled a warning down at her.
“Slower, slower—she likes to be edged, don’t you, sweetheart?”
His arms kept you at his mercy, your body open and wanting as the siren between your legs slurped and sucked and spread your wetness—had you quivering under her tongue. He could hear it. The wet drags—you always got so wet, and the velvet soaked beneath you only proved the fact. Her tongue circled your clit, dropped down to prod your entrance on his command. You knew it—that was why your pleas were directed to him, your nose buried into his cheek as you babbled incoherently – touch me, touch me please – your fingers clawing at the back of his neck.
“I am touching you—” he muttered as he ghosted his lips across the arch of your neck that lay in vulnerable deference against his shoulder—hands tweaking pebbled nipples after he had unhooked the front of your bra, rolling them in coarse fingers before he gave one of them a quick slap, “what do you want, baby?”
You rutted your hips down to push your cunt further into the dancer’s mouth, her moans of approval making you sob at the vibrations, the dual clash of soft wet tongue and rough dry hands on your breasts. He snarled a command to suck your clit—the woman’s fathomless gaze meeting his as her ruby lips wrapped around that pretty little bundle of nerves to make you bow up out of his lap, your hands gripping her curls to claw her closer with a litany of curses and fuck fuck yes—yes more more more—
“Stop.”
Your sob was heartbroken as your orgasm slipped from your grasp – wind through the pampas grass – and you turned, his hand tangled in your guest’s hair to yank her back, and you dropped to engulf his cock in your mouth. It made him choke—made him forget for just a moment as his head fell back and a guttural moan dropped from his mouth in encouragement.
Din dragged the woman up as you sucked him off—kissing your essence right off her with long licks and plundering swipes into her mouth, his hips lifting to push himself deeper down your throat as it convulsed around his girth with a gag.
“I make you both cum, understand?” he growled—smirking when you both nodded deliriously—you with a messy mouth and stroking the length of his cock as it rested against your cheek, and her pussy drunk delirium fogging her gaze.
“Good girls…”
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