Cub and Älskling
Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader (Cub)
Fridolina Rolfö x Child!Reader (Cub) x Älskling
Summary: You meet Frido's Älskling
The baby is very little.
She's small and cute and is cradled very tightly in Frido's arms.
You stare at her, eyes not moving as she wiggles around. Her eyes are wide as she stares back at you.
You lean closer and her little hand is free of her blankets.
She punches you in the face, right in the nose.
You gasp.
"Mami," You say, turning to look at her," She's so cool!"
Mami laughs in disbelief. "Cool, huh? She just punched you."
"Yeah!" You nod frantically," And I'm bigger than her! She's so cool! Is she your baby Tia Frido?"
Frido shakes her head. "She's my baby sister. I like to call her Älskling."
"Hi, Älskling," You say before gasping again," She smiled at me! Ingrid, did you see? She smiled at me!"
"She must like you, Cub," Ingrid says," You're very likeable."
"I know," You reply," But Mami says babies are difficult sometimes. It's good that she likes me."
You've been waiting for ages to meet Tia Frido's little sister. You weren't at training the day the rest of the team met her.
Ingrid had to send you to nursery that day because it was picture day and Mami really wanted a fancy picture of you.
It made you a little sad to not meet Älskling then but you're happy you can meet her at your house. She keeps looking at you and smiling and you smile back.
She looks really cool and Frido sets her on the floor to explore there. She can't crawl just yet but she can sit up and look around.
She reaches for you and you shuffle closer.
"Careful, cub," Mami says," Remember, Älskling's only little. You must use gentle hands like with Bagheera."
You nod very seriously and get closer again, sitting on your knees. You've got the magic wiggles but you're trying to keep them at bay because you don't want to scare Älskling.
You give her your hand and she wraps a whole hand around one of your fingers. You stare at her, mouth slightly hanging open as she lets go of you.
She grunts, hand curling into a fists as she punches your finger.
You giggle, wiggling a little bit on your knees in excitement.
"She keeps punching me!" You tell no one in particular," She's so cool! Can we keep her, Tia Frido?"
Frido grins triumphantly. "I knew you'd be on my side! But, sadly, she has to go back to Sweden at some point. She lives with my parents. I'd have to kidnap her if she stayed here."
"That's okay," You tell her," You can stay here. Älskling can sleep in my room and you can sleep in bed with Mami and Ingrid!"
Mapi turns pale at that thought.
"I think it would be better if Älskling stayed with her parents, cub."
You flash her a disgruntled look. "Älskling's my new best friend," You say," She can't leave!"
"Don't worry," Frido says," I'll be making sure she comes to visit a lot."
You nod. "Good because she's my new best friend and I want to show her everything."
That sparks an idea in you and you hurry off to your toy crate. You didn't use to have one until Ingrid moved in, took one look at the messy apartment and came back with little crates and storage bins to put things in.
You kind of like your toy crate now because all of them are in the exact same place and you know where to put them when you're done playing - though Ingrid has to remind you a lot to actually put them back in the crate.
You grab a few things you think will interest Älskling like your yellow digger and your magnifying glass. You snatch your løve (lion) from the sofa as well and crowd into Älskling's space again.
She's smiling again and making little giggly sounds as Frido tickles her.
"Here, Älskling," You say, placing your yellow digger next to her. You demonstrate how it moves before showing her the magnifying glass. She seems more interested in that than anything else so you let her hold it.
She's got a very good grip and lifts the toy up to her face before putting it in her mouth. You giggle when she pulls a face at the taste but then sticks it right back into her mouth.
"She's silly," You tell Ingrid," But still fun!"
"You were silly," Ingrid tells you.
"But not now."
She laughs. "But not now."
You keep your distance from Älskling for a little bit, playing by Frido's feet with Bagheera and your digger. You let your magic wiggles all run out before you're up on your feet again and ask the question you've wanted to ask since Frido arrived.
"Can I hold her?"
"Say please, Cub," Ingrid prompts and you correct yourself.
"Can I hold her, please?"
"Of course!" Frido says, tapping the spot next to her," Let's get you comfortable."
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Totally not me nursing a sunburn (my fault) and a hangover (also my fault).
MDNI 18+
cw: alcohol use, mentions of over consumption, hangover
You laid yourself down across the end of the bed. Completely bare and at his disposal. A muffled groan escaped his throat as you heard the sloppy wet sounds of the lubricant fall from the container into the palm of his hand.
Bracing for the inevitable, you fisted into the sheets, clenching your eyes and waited for the sudden cold contact.
"Oh shit," you gasped, following a sharp inhale through your teeth.
The cold fluid sending a shiver rolling up and down your spine as his hand gently spread it evenly along your back.
"How many times I got'a tell ya, bonnie," Soap said softly. A subtle tone of reprimand rolling off his tongue.
"Ya gotta wear suncreen."
"I did."
"Donnae give me tha' shite. Yer burnt to a crisp, hen."
"I forgot to reapply."
Soap huffed mockingly in response to your plaintful excuse. Adding another dollop of refrigerated aloe to his hand, gliding it along your lower back and further onto your reddened thighs.
"Ya mean yer were too wrecked ta remember."
"Yes," you retorted with a heavy sigh. Rolling your eyes as he continued jokingly chastising you.
"Tha's what ya get fer havin fun without me, lass."
"Shut up, Johnny. Not like you didn't spend six hours at the range with your ghost boyfriend."
"Haud yer weesht, smartass."
You smiled softly against the mattress. The cooling effects of the aloe soothing the burn along your skin as he ran his hands down along the length of hour calves.
"Bett'r?"
Nodding in response, your smile widened as the bed shifted to the addition of his weight. Feeling his arms brace on either side of your frame, placing a series of gentle kisses along your shoulder, the gentle sensation tugging a quiet moan from the depths of your throat.
Soap adjusted once more, moving to lay beside you on his side. Gazing upon with an affectionate stare, running his fingers along the length of your hair.
"An' how's my wee bonnie's head? Still mad wae it?"
"I don't even know what that means?"
"Are ya still hungover, bonnie?"
His smile stretched across the lower contours of his face. Etched within the lengthy stubble, drapped beneath the bright cerulean jewels within the recesses of his eyes.
"Yeah," you managed quietly on a soft murmur. "I think I could go for one of your herbal teas right about now."
"Aye. I think I ken jus' the one ya need."
-
You were braced up against the headboard, surrounded by a mountain of pillows in one of his overstretched t-shirts when Soap returned with a tray with two cups of steaming tea. The herbal fragrance filling your sinuses, pulling another smile to your lips as he handed you your porcelain cup with a matching knitted sleeve.
"Hmmm..definitely smelling the ginger," you muttered. Bringing the rim up to your lips, taking a modest sip.
"Aye. An' turmeric. It'll help with tha' poor head a'yers."
You scoffed at him once more, rolling your eyes and curling your lips around the steeping rim.
You caught a familiar scent wafting over your cup, but were unaware of tasting it aromatic effects.
"Are you drinking peppermint tea, Johnny?" You questioned with a curios stare and a raised brow.
"Aye. Become quite fond a'it."
"Oh, I'm definitely talking Simon about this."
"Away n bile yer heid."
A calming silence slowly began to hang heavy around the room. Content with the soothing aloe on your skin and the relieving effects of the herbal brew flowing through your veins.
You turned to give him a loving smile, yet were met with a glare you were all too familiar with in similar bed ridden circumstances.
"Johnny, no. I'm in pain. I can't-"
"Ya donnae have to do nothin, bonnie." He interrupted, deep brogue echoing into his cup as he washed down the remainder of his tea.
All of a sudden, as he began to move down the bed to place himself between your thighs, the implications of the peppermint began to take effect in the back of your mind.
"Oh, you sly little bastard."
"Aye. An' this sly little bastard deserves a reward fer takin care a'yer burnt ass."
Soap let out a throaty growl as his mouth descended onto the cusp of your mound. Encapsulating over the silken flesh with a heavy exhale that had you rolling your eyes back as he tugged you down into the bed.
"Oh my God," you gasped breathlessly on a trembling whsiper. Feeling your body sink further into the bed as he smiled against the flesh of your womanhood.
"Tha's it, bonnie. Jus' relax fer me. Let me take care a'ya."
The warm sensation of his tongue gliding between your folds combining with the cooling effects of menthol, had your mind spinning as a jolt of pleasure ran up and down the length of your spine. Drawing another muffled moan from your throat as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and proceeded to feast on your peppermint infused core.
I have no idea if peppermint tea will have this effect, but it sounded good, so I went with it. Menthol infused cunnilingus for the win.
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ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ
matt sturniolo x reader
summary: matt and you have been best friends for a while now, when he expresses his feelings and your unable to express yours. matt helps shows you how much he's been craving you.
warnings: small angst, yelling, cussing, smut, pure filth, nsfw,dom!matt, sub!reader, teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving) p in v, dirty talk, degrading, rough? cock warming, breeding, use of y/n, established relationship?
word count: 2.2k words (somewhat proofread)
"why are you mad? i was just sitting in the living room" "you were teasing me" he says rolling his eyes. "no the fuck i wasn't!" "yes you were, when you spreaded your legs open the way you did, wearing this small little skirt.
"matt i don't know what you want from me" i say taking a step back. "you have got to be kidding me"
i gasped in surprise when he turned on me again with sudden quick change of stren demeanor, pulling at his hair before his hands thrust toward me, his eyes wild. “i can't fucking do this, y/n!" his breaths shook through the words. “i want you. i know you know it, too." my heart shuddered to a stop. it was one thing to assume it, but to hear him say it.
"i didn't-"
"don't lie," he said, his voice calmer now, softer. he took another step toward me. "you know it. you can feel it. you want me, too, but for some reason you keep playing this fucking game."
i was shocked silent, but inside, i felt the volcano whistling and searing and roaring to life. each word he said spawned it on more, the taste of ash on my tongue as it simmered and stirred.
"goddammit woman,” he said, shaking his head.
"i really think we should just be friends," i stutter out while my aching hands rub the front of his shoulders and neck, speaking to the contrary. my better judgment is saying this is a bad idea. but the rest of me screams that this bad idea would feel so, so good.
matt tilts his head with a smirk. his eyes narrow in on my chest as it heaves upwards, then towards my hands, which fist his t-shirt. he licks his lips as he opens them, speaking in a hushed tone, "i said i didn't want to be your friend."
then his lips are on mine, steady and encompassing. my brain melts away. the version of me that suggested we do anything but this is gone. i was a fool.
he parts my lips with his tongue, and i place my hand on the back of his neck to pull him farther in. my fingers brush the base of his hair, and it's softer than i expected. his hand on my waist loosens and trails down the side of my body until he brings it around to grab my ass.
his hands fill with my body wherever they land. he's greedy, and i love it. matt lets out a small moan as he readjusts and brings his other hand to my ass as well. he can kiss, like really kiss. perhaps i have never been truly kissed before. i nip at his top lip and pull away slightly to take it with me. he smiles against my mouth.
"going to let me in or what?" he asks against my neck. "i- i think so, i want this" i hesitantly say. "either you do or don't y/n" "i don't know, i feel confused. part of me screams out for you and the other part is like what am i doing. so i think"
his eyes flare wide and his arms tighten around me. "you think? or you know?"
"i know." i swallow. as i look at the man in front of me. i always want to be with him so why am i holding back so much? "i know, i'm so wildly in love with you that i can't imagine what my life would even look like without you in it. and i probably shouldn't have said that, but if we're doing this, then we're starting from a place of complete honesty."
he crushes his mouth to mine and pulls me fully into his lap so i'm straddling him. he kisses me so deep that i lose myself in it, in him. there are no words as he takes off my jacket and unbuttons my skirt, all without breaking the kiss. "stand," he says against my lips.
"matt." my heart thunders.
"i fucking need you, y/n. right now. and i don't need anyone else, so i'm not quite sure how to handle this feeling, but i'm giving it my best. and if you don't want this tonight, that's fine, but i'm going to need you to walk out that door right now, because if you don't, i'm going to have you naked on your back in the next two minutes."
the intensity in his eyes and the vehemence of his words should frighten me, but they don't. even if this man loses every ounce of his self-control, i know he'll never hurt me.
not with his body, at least. "walk away or stay, but either way, i need you to stand up," he begs. i walk up to him intertwining our fingers, as he grabs my waist with his free hand and lays us both on the bed.
his arms then slip behind my back, pulling me up and against his chest. his hands move under my shirt, up my spine. soon my shirt is gone. tossed in the same direction as my skirt.
i shiver, just a little, and he eases me onto the pillows, careful not to crush me under his weight. his body heat is so welcome, so warm. my head tilts backward. my eyes are closed.
my lips part for no reason at all. "i want to be able to feel you," he whispers, his words at my ear. "i want your skin against mine." his gentle hands move down my body. "god, you're so soft," he says, his voice husky with emotion.
he's kissing my neck. my head is spinning. everything goes hot and cold and something is stirring to life inside of me and my hands reach for his chest, looking for something to hold on to and my eyes are trying and failing to stay open and i'm only just conscious enough to whisper his name.
"yes, love?"
"fuck me, please fuck me matt"
"i think you actually want me to punish you" he smirks as he said it so sweetly, but my heart began to pound. he really meant it as i see the seriousness on his face. he was actually going to punish me for this. my eyes darted around, looking for an escape until i realized there was no escape. i wanted this. i'd willingly fought with him every step of the way and now.
i was going to let him punish me.
"i need you to be a good, obedient girl for me," he said, as my eyes grew wider and my heart thumped harder, and my breath began to come in quick, shallow bursts. "that was what you agreed to. i think you want to be good for me, baby." he reached out, and his fingers brushed softly, slowly, along my chin.
his touch was cool, and goosebumps prickled up my back. this was it the exact thing i wanted, feared, hoped for? i wasn't nearly ready enough for this. my inhibitions were crushing me. was i really going to let the matt sturniolo punish me? what did that mean? what did his punishment entail? i didn't even want to dare ask. i could hardly even speak.
"you don't know that," i whispered. "you don't know anything about me, maybe i just like being a bitch to you. maybe i..." his touch turned into a grip. he held my chin, and tipped my face up slightly. his gaze felt like fingers probing deep inside me.
"i know enough, baby. i know you're so careful with how your portray yourself. that's why you bottle yourself up." shifting himself as he places his leg between my legs. "tonight" he trails his finger down me "tonight though. im going to help you forget all of that. as tonight you belong to me"
he starts to place soft but sloppy kisses down my chest to my stomach. trailing me, with his fingers sliding smoothly into my pussy as he leans over me and puts the smallest hint of pressure around my throat.
"that's a good girl," he praises. "i wasn't going to break down your walls tonight." he pulls his fingers free as he speaks, and all i can think to do is stare at him. "but you had to play dirty, didn't you? like you knew i'd be unable to resist."
i gasp, hips arching, as the bullet i'd dropped finds my aching clit. it's still on its middle setting, and i arch my hips as he teases me with it, the hand on my throat leaving so that he can push my hips back to the bed.
"i didn't know-"
"i think you knew," he goes on, humming the words. "you invited me too, you remember? when you turned that light on and spread your thighs so that i could see in the living room. then when you showed me these..." he leans down kissing my chest, and this time, i press myself against him. "mhm like you were begging me to come play with you.
he loosens the grip around my throat as he moves his hands down to my hips. to kiss my stomach slowly down to my core. "lift your hips for me" he whispers as begins to lay himself in a better angle before diving in.
oh, sweet jesus.
there was absolutely no turning back now, and that was something i wasn't going to do. that thought was long gone. the way he his tongue flicked back and forth between my folds, drove me absolutely wild. as he held onto my legs, it felt as helped his tongue go deeper and deeper into me.
"oh my god" "mhm" he groans into me as i feel my legs shake around his head. "matt please" "cum for me" in one quick swift snap i was releasing onto his tongue but he didn't stop there.
"stop-stop," i gasp, wishing i could shove at him as the pleasure becomes too much and edges on pain. "i can't, i came already. stop, matt."
"cum again," matt argues. "come on, you can cum again." he moves tongue quickly to focus it over my clit as his fingers sliding into me to curl against that sweet spot inside of my body and rub against it.
he eventually removes his tongue and fingers, standing up to take off his sweatpants and boxers. i watch as his hard on slap his stomach. he grabs his dick and slides the precum that's spilling from his tip up and down his shaft before pulling me to the edge of the bed and flipping me over so im on my hands and knees.
without no warning he's slamming into me. "oh fuck" i gasp "shut the fuck up, you can take it." he growls, grabbing my hands and holding them down behind my back as he keeps fucking into me. i feel as my eyes roll to the back of my head. any respect i had for myself was long gone.
"matt please, too much" i whine trying to get out of his grip. "you can't take it now? huh baby? you can't take me anymore?" he teases. "mattt" i whine as he arches me into a position i didn't know was even possible to be in. but he's in deep places i didn't know were possible to reach. the more he keeps fucking himself into me at an ungodly pace i clench myself around him.
"you gonna cum around my cock. you're going to, aren't you? you want to so bad. am i teasing you, baby?" he's taunting me again, and he pushes my hair back from my face so he can kiss me. "let me help you." he snakes a hand around me and teases my clit, his thrusts picking up once more.
"come on, y/n. cum for me, baby. i want to feel you." i want to, and even if i didn't, i'm trapped under him, against him, and with him inside me. it's perfect, and too much, and everything i never knew i wanted as i cum with his fingers on my clit and his cock buried in my pussy.
"perfect," he growls, still fucking me. "so fucking perfect for me." going only lasts a few more seconds before he murmurs a soft curse against my ear and buries himself a bit deeper still inside me. he picks up small speed as he close to his own release now. his hands find my hips once more.
picking up a fast but sloppy pace, matt groans loudly as he comes to his realse. he fucks himself into me a bit more, reaching out to the pillow in front of me as i feel as my legs were about to give out underneath me. matt notices and wraps his arms around me before his cum shoots into me.
he give one more sloppy thrust before falling onto the bed with me, with his dick still inside. my breathing is erratic, he reaches underneath to pull the sheets over us. "matt" "shh baby, get some rest" he whispers against me as he places a soft kiss against my lips.
"i love you." "i love you more, baby." was the last thing i heard from him as he brings me into him and he falls asleep in my arms.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
a/n: by far the worst damn fic i ever wrote, i spent way too damn long reaching up to the smut part that i just gave up right at the very end. im so sorry it's horrible but i still hope you enjoyed it, though. btw this will be that last fic for a while, as im slowly running out of motivation and inspo to really write. love you all :)
tags: @nicksmainbitch @sturniolossss @sturnlova @its-jennarose @freshsturns @luverboychris @canthelpit0 @ghostlypineappl @sturnzsblog @sluttformatt @urfavstromboli @junnniiieee07 @drpepperworshipper @ksturniolo7 @samandcolbyfan22 @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @h3arts4harry @patscorner @iluvmattyb @mattslovelygf @blahbel668 @mattscoquette @wh0resstuff @crack240 @recklessmatt @st7rnioioss @saturnstrn
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love your work sm!! thanks for writing what you do! could I request some spanking in a eddiexreader blurb maybe?<3
Spanking. Eddie Munson x female reader. Blurb. Smut.
I hope this suffices! Thank you for your sweet words and support, ily!<3
“Look at this, you’ve found yourself over my knee now haven’t you? But this is what you’ve been wanting isn’t it, Trouble?” Eddie spoke into your ear, moving the your hair out of your face and over your shoulder so it draped down your back. His hands follow your hair and begin to rub down your back, resting them on the small of your back. You stifle your whining, knowing it’s only going to get you another punishment.
“Such a pretty little ass you have baby, it’s such a shame I’m gonna have to mark it all up. Show everyone that it’s mine huh? I’d brand my name on you if I could.” Eddie spat his words out with confidence, ending his sentence with a swift slap to your ass cheeks. You gasp, his hand was warm and inviting and you curse yourself for being as much of a pain slut as you are. The sting of his rings left an indent in your skin, marking you up just as he said he would.
He strikes your skin once more, repeating his acts three more times. “Think you can take another five, princess?” He chuckles, squeezes one of your cheeks into his palm, being sure to dig his nails into your skin. Nodding shyly you encourage him to abuse your ass some more, he needs no further encouragement. Eddie lays your body over the bed, reaching for his spanking cane, he takes a swing of the cane. You hear the cane pass through the air harshly, before the familiar sting greets your ass cheeks. It’s sore, leaving your skin tender to the touch.
“It’s left such a pretty little red mark on you already angel, remember you have four more strikes left. You’re taking your punishment so well. You’re being a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Eddie hissed, rubbing his palm over your ass, pushing his fingers into the red marks and smirking when you gasp. He can hear breath hitch as you lay over the bed, your skin tingling in anticipation. You turn your head over your shoulder, and smile at Eddie weakly in masochism.
He makes the next strikes with the cane swift, not offering any mercy. Eddie’s calloused hands caress your ass again, your skin stings from his violence on your tender skin. “Pretty little thing just whimpering out in pain aren’t you? Does it hurt, sweetheart? He teases you mockingly as he takes his fingers between your thighs and pinches your clit harshly. You sob in pain from his touch, breathing out in relief when he finally lets up his assault on your swollen clit.
Eddie speaks in a matter-of-fact tone with a fist full of your hair, pulling from your scalp, forcing you to face him. “Did you learn your lesson, angel?”
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hear me out: dew lost his gills when he transitioned to fire but his neck is still very sensitive where the gills were
You're so right and forgive me if I lose my mind about it a little.
Some Dewther "gill" fucking filth under the cut.
It's an accidental discovery. Aether reaching up to trace his fingers over those silvery scars on his neck. Still fresh. Dew, staring up at him, vulnerable--afraid to let himself be explored like this. Body feeling somewhere between home and completely new. He keeps his hands at his sides, fists clenched, nails digging cresents into his palms. It's hard to be seen like this--touched like this. He's never been good with intimacy.
Aether's reverent, devoted. Eyes big and wide as he touches Dew. Feather light, barely there, over every inch of warm skin Dew will let him. Watching as Dew's skinny chest heaves with each stuttering breath. Panic mixed with arousal. Aether has him naked--unable to hide. He dips his fingers into the hollow of Dew's throat and watches as Dew's cock twitches against his thigh.
Dew stays as still as he can, would do anything to keep Aether like this. Despite the strange twist of anxiety he gets from letting himself be seen, it's the way Aether looks at him that fixes it. Like he is everything. Like there is something in him worth marveling at.
The first touch of Aether's fingers on his scars is like lightening through his skin. A jolt. For a minute it's like he still has gills. That same alarm bell sensitivity of fingers aren't supposed to go here. Dew lets out a whine and Aether pulls his hand back.
"Sorry. I didn't--do they hurt?"
"Do it again," Dew whispers. Silence hangs, Aether blinks at him, fingers uncurling. "Please?"
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Doesn't hurt," Dew promises. "Please, Aeth."
Aether reaches out, drags the calloused pad of his index finger over the middle scar and Dew hisses. Eyes slamming shut, cock kicking to life. Almost fully hard now, twitching between his legs as Aether pets.
Dew arches, tips his head to the side to give Aether better access. "More."
He'd thought he lost this. This electrical current feeling. The brutal sensitivity of his gills that never fails to turn him to goo. It was an unfortuante side-effect of a transition that he needed--that he wanted. But to have it back? He shudders as Aether adds two more fingers, petting over each silver scar. A methodic back and forth motion that makes Dew groan.
His cock spits pre into his happy trail. He thinks that if Aether decided to curl his whole hand around his throat, to press the pads of his fingers to the scars on both sides, if Aether was to squeeze--just a little--Dew could cum.
He can't ask for it though--doesn't know how. Words are fleeting. All he knows how to do is unclench his fists and get his hands on himself. One to cup his balls, the other to polish the sticky head of his cock.
"That good?" Aether teases. He starts to pull his fingers away and Dew's eyes snap open. He shakes his head. Pulling at his cock frantically, lips falling open.
"Nononono don't--you gotta--fuck, Aeth--don't stop, please don't stop."
Aether grins at him, bending forward to block Dew's view of anything but him. He kisses him, sweetly, on that pouting lower lip.
"Never," Aether promises.
Dew doesn't realize his mistake until after he cums, painting his belly and knuckles in creamy white. And Aether doesn't stop, fingers still dragging over. He fits his hand around Dew's throat, splaying his fingers across the scars on both sides. Dew's eyes fly open, he twitches. Overstimulation rocketing through him.
"Wait--Aeth--too much--"
Aether leans down to kiss his sweaty forehead, his smile turns predatory.
"You told me not to stop."
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snippet #2 - the villain surprises the hero
warning: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, harmful behavior, touchy villain (not nsfw), depictions and descriptions of physical violence, may be uncomfortable or triggering for some readers, reader discretion is advised.
The hero had been captured again, tied to a chair, blindfolded, and beaten to a pulp until the only thing they could taste, smell, feel, was their blood.
It was routine at this point.
Get captured, refuse to give up information, get a few new scars before their team showed up. At a certain point, these so-called villains became predictable. None of them truly scared the hero anymore.
The hero’s head came up at the sound of a door creaking open then slamming shut, footsteps following behind. They clenched their fists against their restraints, sighing, preparing themselves for another round of mediocre scare tactics.
The footsteps of the person started to become louder and louder, the hero could hear them slowly circling their chair like they were tracking prey.
They stopped right behind the hero, their breath tickling their ear, making the hero shiver behind their blindfold.
Their captors before had never gotten this close, at least without a weapon or some weak verbal threats. This felt… different somehow. It made the hero a bit antsy. Their chest became heavier as they listened to the sounds of the person’s even breathing.
Their gut was trying to tell them something.
Something was wrong-
Their heart stopped when they heard the person’s whispered voice.
“Hello, Darling.”
No.
The hero frantically jerked at their restraints but they wouldn’t budge, it only made the rope dig more into their body. Loud and panicked sounds escaped them as their heart started to beat in their head.
The person only chuckled at their attempts to free themselves.
No. No.
They— there… it’s not possible.
“Did you miss me?”
No. They needed to get out. Tears started to seep through their blindfold, as well as sweat as they jerked their head around. They couldn’t get out, they couldn’t even see where they were. The hero was frantic, horribly panicked, and the villain reveled in it.
The villain was the only one who could evoke genuine terror from their hero. Turn them into a screaming, begging mess at their feet.
The villain trailed their hand delicately over the hero’s neck, wrapping their fingers around them and stroking. The hero let out a choked whimper, their body completely shivering.
“You never thought you’d feel this again, did you?” The villain smiled, “My touch making you deliciously crazy?”
No. They didn’t. The villain was supposed to be dead.
The hero’s breathing grew more erratic by the second, more and more tears streamed down their face, mixing with the dried blood and stinging their fresh shallow cuts.
They saw their dead body. They buried them in that grave. They stuck that knife in their chest so many times they lost count as they watched the life drain out of them. How?
“It’s been far too long, my love,” the villain said, “I think we should relive some good memories.”
The hero couldn’t answer, only cry out and tried to wiggle their way out of their restraints again and again and again. It was a pity, the sight of someone trying to escape the inevitable.
The villain started to slowly lift the hero’s ripped sleeves, rolling them to expose their skin. No. No. No. Anything but that.
The villain watched in awe as their hero completely lost it and tried so hard to escape them, even though their hero was smart enough to know there was no hope. No one was coming to save them.
“Sh, sh, sh,” the villain cooed, their hand sickenly stroking the hero’s neck like comfort, “There’s no need for that, you know you're not escaping me.”
The villain trailed their hands softly up their hero’s arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They loved how their hero tried to push them off, completely losing it when the villain finally touched their scars.
They had dreamed of touching these sensitive things again. The deep scars they left all over. They hated the scars others dared to leave. They already killed those others who dared to call themselves ‘villains’, who dared to touch the hero. Only they were allowed to touch their little hero like this.
“All our fun times, etched into your skin,” the villain said in awe. Their hero tried to get out of their hold, their sobs echoing across the room.
The scars felt different this time, some of them. The hero must have tried to rid themselves of their marks, but failed miserably. How cute.
Their hero should know better than to try to rid themselves of the villain.
They continued to trace over the uneven skin, the memories of the many long lovely torture sessions they subjected their hero to flooding their brain, and they were sure their hero was reliving it too.
“Stop,” the hero whispered, choking on their sobs, “Please-
“Just like my scars,” they cut in, pressing delicate kisses to the skin making the hero’s body shiver, “I will never leave you, love.”
It has been so long since the hero felt that terror, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through their veins, their heartbeat reaching heights that could kill them. Their breathing was so rapid, their body was in a state of complete shock and panic.
They forgot what it felt like to be terrified, and they wished it stayed that way. They thought they made sure it would.
“But, you did leave me,” The villain dug into one of their scars, making them gasp, reopening it and letting their hero’s blood trickle down their fingers.
“You left me to rot in the ground,”
“I-I didn’t-”
“Let the world forget about me.”
The villain dug in deeper. The hero cried out.
“Let yourself forget about me,” the villain whispered, their breath over the hero’s mouth.
“I’m- sorry.. please— I’ll do-“
The hero jerked and sobbed again as the villain ripped off their blindfold, the light seering their eyes.
“Your begging is pitiful,” they spat.
The hero’s eyes adjusted to the sudden light as they looked up into the villain’s. They jerked their head away. Those same eyes haunted them when the hero slept, even when they thought they were buried deep underground.
The villain grabbed the hero’s chin, digging their nails into the skin and forced their head back up.
“You really thought you could get rid of me?” the villain snapped, venom lacing every syllable.
The hero sniffled, their eyes completely bloodshot from their tears.
“I’m not going anywhere,” the villain whispered with crazy in their eyes, “and neither are you.”
The hero couldn’t answer, only cry out as exhaustion took over their body. Their body stopped fighting, just twitching every so often from the adrenaline. They were slowly accepting their fate.
“I’m keeping you, Darling,” the villain smiled, stroking the hero’s chin, “and I promise you, this time, you’ll never be able to forget me.”
The hero whimpered a slur of incoherent words in response.
The villain loved their hero like this, shaking and on the verge of insanity knowing what things the villain was about to subject them to. It was a sight the villain was going to come back to every single day. They planned to come back every night, keep them tied up, bloodied and bruised, completely helpless and at their mercy. Then afterwards, they’ll really get to work on molding their hero into perfection.
The villain mercilessly tied the hero’s blindfold into a gag, enjoying the way the hero jerked in response, and took a syringe out. Their hero’s eyes winded, as they tried to plead behind the fabric, but the thing was too tight.
They sobbed. The hero knew what was coming next. They remembered, those memories were burned inside of them. Cut into their skin.
“Don’t worry,” they whispered, kissing their hero’s tear and blood-soaked cheek, “I’ll be all you ever think about soon enough.”
They could only cry and try to plead through their eyes, shaking their head. The villain though had no mercy for them whatsoever.
Their hero betrayed them. They stuck a knife in their heart when the villain let themselves believe someone actually cared for them, they finally let themselves trust and their little hero shattered it.
They stuck the syringe right in their scar. Their hero let out a scream of terror covered by the fabric.
Now it was only fair they would shatter them in return.
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i absolutely love your professor ghost and love series <333. i’m curious what you think will be the event that pushes them over the edge of wistful pining to an actual relationship🫣🫣🫣it would have to require an extreme event or something bc old man simon is way too deep in his fantasies to actually do anything about them😐😐😐
It's a the way there isn't a single thing. There's no change, there's no rejection, there's a consistency that drives Ghost mad. Love is as she always is, and he can't stand it anymore. She interrupts his lecture, she presses close and smiles at him, she smells like rosehip and honey and her lips are so soft looking up close. But she keeps leaving, winding him up and leaving him. It's a dance he can't keep up with, one that has born a new school of philosophy and pain. Love gathers her papers and turns to leave with a smile and quiet 'thank you' and Ghost?
Ghost grabs Love by the back of the neck, catching her tight before she can make her escape. The motion of it jolts her stopping her in her tracks. There's only so much flirting a man can stomach before he starts getting agitated. He doesn't want to scare her, not badly anyway, he just wants her to stop playing with him. He's past delusional, he's going insane. He's imagining a future he shouldn't be, swiping her things, waiting for her just to be disappointed. He's writing, loving to the point of creation, to the point of philosophy.
The absolute devotion in her eyes, the soft flutter of her lashes when he reels her back in and cages her against his chest, God. He pulls her hair tight in his fist, his cock twitching as she settles her hands on his chest. He should dismiss class early, but he doubts anyone would clear out of the lecture hall fast enough for him to bend her over the lectern. Ghost settles on his previous plan of asking Love what her fucking problem is.
"You 'avin' fun?" He asks, his voice a low growl. Love hums, spreads her fingers wide over his pecs, before curling them in the fabric of his button down.
"Be having more with your hand around my throat." She tells him, still flirting, and still getting a reaction from him. Ghost tightens his grip, tugs her head back, and watches her lips part around a sigh.
Does she even know every vulnerability that she displays? The bared throat, clear path to major organs, a lack of awareness that teeters on trusting. God, she trusts him.
The knowledge licks at him like holding his hand too close to an open flame. It tightens in his chest, makes his stomach churn. What has he done to earn that? What can he do to make her take it back, to make her take all of it back? Every touch, every spare glance, every word out of her mouth. She could take it all back and he'd still be here, he'd still have seen her and wanted her, wanted to know her. He'd still have seen her name on emails and known there was something missing from him. He'd still have wallowed in his misery, in a world- a life- without her.
"Why're ya doin' this to me?" He feels it fall out of him, pleading, the question he never could come up with an answer to, even with every degree of philosophy he could scrounge up.
"Because it feels right," She murmurs, "doesn't it?"
"No." Ghost insists. Love blinks, her eyes sliding over him, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips.
"You don't want me?"
There's such a vulnerability, a disbelief, in her voice that he wants to scream: that's not it. That's not it. He'd be lying with just a twitch of a nod, and lying has never suited Ghost, withholding sure, but not lying. The way she looks at him tugs bile up his throat, makes the pain in his chest clench that much tighter.
The universe has only ever taken from him. No good deed has ever gone unpunished in Ghost's life. He's built his camp on sorrow and rage, but it bites out of him to tell her:
"I've never wanted anythin' else."
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I'm a sucker for reverse isekai, yet I know fully well that none of the hot sugar mommies would find me physically attractive.
So here's a bit of a delusional thought. Once they find out that you're so pathetic for them that you write/read smut of them, they start to find it cute. And who knows, maybe they'll be willing to make your fictional ideas a reality?
I was thinking of Kafka/Yelan/Shalom when making this.
They wouldnt even be shocked they already know how down bad ppl are for them 😞😞
kafka would take your phone and read it out loud, then she would start copying the actions and the words said aloud in the fic. shes ramming you down onto her cock into your soaked little hole, its just so big, like stated in the fic, you can't keep up. your panting and moaning like a bitch in heat as one of hands on your hips guide you up and down her hard dick like a personal fleshlight. the other with your phone in hand, reading out your fic of her. you hands clawing at her shoulders like your life depended on it. she whispers pure filth into your ears with that hot, sultry voice.
"look at you, your pussy swallows my cock so easily baby.. keep going.. you can do it.."
your sobbing, nodding quickly as you let out another whine. your gummy walls just welcome her right in, like you were made for her. kafka sees that creamy ring around the base of her cock as she makes you reach your high once more. your cum leaking out onto her lap despite her stuffed into you. she starts her relentless pace again. the sloppy noises of skin slapping together and your desperate moans heard. shes so rough with you but shes only just making your fantasies come true <3
yelan has you tied up with her hydro ropes. they feel slightly cool, a big contrast to how hot you feel right now. your phone was somewhere on the bedside table. she leaves you on the bed with a vibrator, 'punishing' you for writing such filth. she presses the vibrator down onto clit. making you moan out, begging for more. your back arches so beautifully as your wrists tug on the ropes. it feels so good, your just blabbering out incoherent sentences. shes tease you, making the vibrations the highest level before turning it off the second you feel that knot forming. you whine as she rips yet another high away from you. she smirks and laughs softly at your pouty, desperate face.
"don't look at me like that pretty girl, isn't this what you wanted?"
she continues the cycle over and over again, you rub your thighs together and its so frustrating! maybe you shouldn't of written her teasing you so much. you just want to cum :(
shalom smirks aas she peers over you shoulder, seeing the dirty words on your screen. she whispers into your ears, her hot breath on your ear.
"is that what you really want? you needy girl.."
shalom is down on her knees. you legs are dangling off the bed as her hands hold soft thighs wide open. shalom spits onto your wet cunt, smearing it all over your sex. your body shivers as her slim fingers rub all over your folds. you can't remember how many you've already came. it isn't soon before she's eating you out again at such a merciless pace. who knew such a 'frail' girl was so capable of such things? you throw your head back, moaning. her tongue is soo long. shes got your cum all over her face, shes so messy and sloppy with her tongue. your have a fistful of her hair, tugging her close to your wet hole. her nose rubs at your clit. she keeps eye contact with you as her wet muscle laps at your wet cunt, ripping another erotic moan from you. she sucks on your clit, the slurping noises are so loud. (and hot) your thighs tremble as she gets another orgasm from you. you definitely will not stop writing some more after this long night.
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Everyone simply adored Daniel.
From his perfectly charming smile to his deep brown eyes to the way his hair seemed to always fall perfectly, even when he’d just spent the last hour out for a run.
Stupid Daniel with his gorgeous face.
How could they not see?!
The hatred started when you’d noticed he never actually said anything of use.
Once you’d listened (or tried to, through the door) for 40 minutes as he talked the downstairs neighbour around and around in circles about a noise complaint.
“I’m so deeply sorry.” He’d said. “It’s so difficult for me to think of how you must be feeling. You don’t want to be mad at me, do you? I just hate that sinking feeling I get when someone is mad at me. Just relax. I’m sure we can work something out…”
The conversation ultimately ending up with the neighbour apologising to Daniel.
Then there was the constant sex noises.
Stretched out moans, slowly ramping up and down and up and down, teasing his partner to the edge before bringing them right back again.
It was as if Daniel’s dick was a gift from God.
You found yourself wishing he was into BDSM so he’d gag whoever he had in there. No sex is that good, you thought.
It had been easy to avoid him and his infuriating-ness. Until now.
You stared down at your doormat at the tiny little note scrawled in thick black ink “LEFT WITH NEIGHBOUR”.
Of course it had.
It had been a long day at work. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was for you and your package to be left alone.
Away from the rhythmic thudding and moans from next door. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Away from Daniel.
You didn’t even wait for him and whoever he had in there to finish. In a huff you slammed your fist against his door.
The orgasmic moans echoed for a moment, and then shuffling was heard. The door opened.
Now, you’d expected the door to open just enough for a conversation. A tiny crack. After all, every tenant in the building knew what had just been happening, so you’d expected some shame.
But this was Daniel.
He swung the door full-force open, shirtless, bed head, and a very revealing half-askew boxers.
“…Yes?”
You cleared your throat and willed your face to turn back to its original, not flushed colour.
“You have a package for me.” You said, looking down at the floor.
He followed your gaze but looked between his legs instead.
“Do I?” He teased, before turning to retrieve the box.
“Y-You should keep it down, you know.” You found the courage to say.
“Sorry about that.” He laughed, handing you the package, your fingers touching his.
“Y-Yeah, well…”
“You’re welcome to join if you’re feeling left out.” He looked up at you through his eyelashes.
You angrily looked for signs of joking on his face. When you didn’t find any, you exploded.
“And what makes you think I’d want to do that?!”
“Oh… nothing.” Your eyes trail down his abs towards-
You shake the thought out of your head.
“I just have this thing about me, you know? I tend to draw people in.” He comments. “I don’t know if it’s my eyes that you could get lost in, or how you imagine my hands on your chest pushing you down onto the bed, or maybe it’s the way my words just push every rational thought out of that pretty head of yours…”
You realised your mouth was open slightly. You snapped your gaze away from his eyes, then his lips, and then his boxers.
Fuck.
It was like his body was magnetic. You felt your legs heavily moving towards him, the rational part of your brain sinking back for something else to take over.
What’s worse, you felt yourself drooling.
“There’s just something so alluring, isn’t there? The mystery of the unknown. That constant sound. Don’t you want to experience bliss like that?” He asked you.
Your anger had faded. Your mind, a puddle, melted by that look in his eyes.
He was growing taller. No. Your knees were buckling. Sinking. You were kneeling in front of him. Your mind a constant flow of his voice. Sink. Kneel. Obey. Drop.
Your eyes looked up at him. Glossy. Blank.
“Why don’t you come inside.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
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"Time & the Trickster"
a Loki/Doctor Who crossover
Chapter 14: Sylvie's Choice
It's your stubbornness against Sylvie's to determine who will fix the timelines and sit on the golden throne. Who's will is stronger? A single, difficult choice will decide everyone's fate.
CHAPTER WARNING (18+): Reader is in peril, violence
Previous Chapter · Next Chapter
MASTERLIST
Sylvie gave an incredulous look, as if to say “you’re kidding, right?”
Loki looked at you and The Doctor, who were taking up exaggerated, almost heroic positions upon bursting in. Hey, it wasn’t easy to avoid getting caught up in the adventure with The Doctor next to you. Even in this most precarious moment, he brought out the thrill of it. His energy was infectious.
You looked pretty hot. Loki took note.
Smiling, you laughed. “You didn’t expect me to be so pissed off, did you?”
Your adversary blinked. “I never expected anything less.”
“Good. So you know better. Now drop your stone before I drop your ass!”
“I’ve made my stand!” barked Sylvie.
“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said The Doctor. He and Loki moved together to get in between the two of you, Loki facing you and The Doctor turning to Sylvie. “We can figure this out, Sylvie, but we don’t need this to become violent!”
“How so? You all want me to give up an entire lifetime of running, hiding, and fighting,” she bemoaned. “After all this time…trying to prove myself…”
She lowered the hand that held her dagger, dropping it at her feet. She wasn’t surrendering, you could see she was beginning to run through her life as it began flashing before her eyes.
“...you never saw me as anything but the bad girl,” she said with genuine woe. You were not moved, but of course Loki was, to your dismay.
“We’re all misunderstood. It’s one of the things that binds us together as Lokis,” he said, both Loki and The Doctor moving around so he could address her while The Doctor began whispering to you.
“I will open the basin, but don't look inside. I can’t promise your brain won’t melt,” he instructed, the gross visual making you cringe. “You need to either find an opening for Loki to toss his, or trick Sylvie into throwing hers.”
“I won’t go,” Sylvie said again. “No. I owe nothing to any of you.”
The TARDIS shook. You yelped in surprise. Yes, you fucking do! you thought.
“Sylvie, a true Loki adapts! You’ve done some astounding things with what you were given, but when a Loki is beaten, if there is nothing else to be done…they think. They strategize! They don’t run at the fire with flying fists. When there is nothing more to be done, a Loki accepts the Fates’ answer.”
His speech melted your heart. You knew this version of him was never imprisoned in his father’s dungeons or fought the Dark Elves, and the only reason Loki needed to escape with Thor from Sakaar was due to a stupid hitchhiking mistake they’d made many eons ago as youths. Yet both times, Loki had proven himself a full Prince and a full warrior. Sylvie would have turned over Jane Foster. She would have never helped Thor escape. It was unfair that it was this difficult to ensure his happy ending. If reality were fair and equal, Sylvie would already be ensnared in the Tree of Life. Perhaps there was a timeline where it was so.
“Then do it yourself!” Sylvie replied. “Accept your fate!”
“We’re both Loki! It belongs to both of us!”
You made sure Sylvie’s shitty stone was in your fingers, ready to press into her hand. The Doctor motioned to you silently that he was going to make a break for the basin. You nodded. He quickly turned around and began working his charismatic magic over the Asgardians.
“Well, us Lokis need to stick together right? And from where I stand, we’re all about to get crushed under the weight of a collapsing timeline down here, so let’s move things along, shall we?”
He bolted over to the vortex basin, shoving his fingers under the crack and yanking with all of his strength. You ran over to help him when it looked like he wasn’t able to do so on his own, but once he grounded his feet, it wasn’t so difficult to open the time vortex.
The room was instantly flooded with bright yellow light coming from the beacon in the middle.
“Loki, move!” You demanded, darting under his arm and throwing yourself at Sylvie. Loki made an attempt to hold you back, but you slipped right through him, lunging at her and knocking her to the floor.
The two of you wrestled on the ground, neither of you having any sort of form. As a result, you were two people fighting, just trying to pin the other one down. Sylvie kept flailing, her arms and hands moving too quickly for you to have access to her skin to press against the stone.
You felt a painful blow just under your ribs as Sylvie got in a good kick, which sent you rolling across the floor several feet, near the foot of the vortex basin. The Doctor stepped back to keep out of your way. Scrambling to your feet, you and Sylvie ran at each other again, but the pain in your side was sharp, and you realized that her hit was going to make it more difficult for you to overpower her.
“Loki! Help me!” you cried.
You heard a laugh. It was actually Loki from behind you. He held the brighter stone in the handkerchief, posed to use it as a slingshot. “Did you all forget for a moment that I had one too? We do tend to complicate things a bit, don’t we?”
Sylvie’s face fell as Loki fired. The beaming green stone made a clear arc over your heads. Sylvie, who was somewhat petite compared to even you, tried to reach for it, missing widely. It moved in slow motion; your eyes traced it by the comet-tail-like streak it left as it fell behind Sylvie and into the vortex.
The TARDIS lurched, then took a big, healthy deep breath. The Doctor grinned joyously, his ship fully alive again. “She’s starting to move toward the DVD!”
“TVA!” shouted Loki.
“Remember: do not look into the time vortex! I have to get to the console! I’ll be back once I make sure we’re locked onto the coordinates!” The Doctor fled the room at top-speed, which for his tall, limber frame was quite fast.
Sylvie, beaten and realizing that she had very few cards left in her hand, attacked you.
“STOP! Sylvie, NO!” Loki implored as she attempted to hurl herself onto your back. You’d adjusted your center of balance, and the sudden added weight toppled you both, you landing on top of her. In the moment, your animalistic defenses took over. You no longer could identify who she was or what she was hoping to accomplish, You needed to survive. You needed to keep her at bay long enough for you to reach your destination.
The dagger wasn’t on her person, so Sylvie relied on her strength to attempt to subdue you. Your pent-up rage was your biggest weapon, and it gave you the adrenaline to keep going. You threw yourself off of Sylvie, kicking her stomach with your toe. It had only some effect. She was harder than you thought.
On your feet, Sylvie got up and lunged for your throat without missing a beat. You moved out of the way so that she missed your neck, but she latched onto your arm instead, pulling you toward the bright, open basin. It was all you could do to avoid looking inside.
The momentum Sylvie brought with her charge threw you back against the basin rim. Loki was finally able to find an opening in an attempt to get between the two of you, but just as he dove forward, the most violent lurch yet happened.
You were suddenly aware of the sensation of tumbling as both you and your attacker tumbled over the side of the rim. Your heart nearly exploded in an immediate surge of adrenaline, which thankfully gave you the quick reflexes to grab onto the side. Sylvie had also managed to grapple the rail with both hands.
The ship wouldn’t stop shaking. There was no way Loki could pull you both back before one of you fell. You knew what had to happen.
You looked resentfully at Sylvie. You mumbled in a voice that only you could hear, “I so would have loved to mount your head over my mantle, Sylvie. Fuck you. Fuck you forever.”
Finally making peace, you lifted your head, beginning to feel your palms grease over with nervous sweat. It was time to say goodbye. You were surprised at how resigned you felt. It was, after all, for Loki’s sake. Who better to die for?
Loki leaned over the basin, looking back and forth between you and Sylvie to avoid looking directly into the vortex. The quandary was not lost on him. He looked almost ready to die himself at the impossible choice before him.
“SAVE HER!” you shouted. “WITHOUT HER YOU’LL NEVER BE FREE!”
Nothing mattered to you anymore. You were willing to die in her place if it meant saving Loki. You only hoped she didn’t bullshit you all. Only Sylvie would manage to make YOUR sacrifice worthless.
“It’s okay, Loki,” you said, the tears being pulled from your eyes into the chasm under you. “I mean it. Let me go.”
Just then, the TARDIS lurched again, and the gravity within the room shifted enough that yours and Sylvie’s grips were both ripped away from the rim at the same time, leaving you both hovering for a final, terminal moment as Loki made his choice.
He threw the upper half of his body over the side just in time to snatch your hands back, keeping you from falling away. Using every desperate ounce of his superior strength, he hoisted you back over to relative safety as Sylvie went into freefall.
She made no sounds, no gasps, no cries of revenge. Her eyes didn’t even widen in surprise. As Loki cradled you in his arms while you wept, Sylvie’s face fell only slightly. She looked almost dignified and resigned as she was sucked out into the time vortex, gone from sight before anything could be done to fetch her.
The TARDIS’ shivers and quakes stopped, and it began careening as it normally would on any given adventure. The Doctor had made his way back to the console and was steering the ship successfully, putting it into autopilot so that it would continue to follow the time stone back to the TVA.
The basin slammed shut as the time machine stabilized. Once you realized what had happened, you pulled yourself out of Loki’s arms, hysterical. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?” you shrieked, slapping him hard across his cheek.
He brought a hand up to the reddening skin on his face. You punched him twice in each shoulder. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE YOU FUCKING IDIOT?!”
He gripped your shoulders so tightly you could move, only look into his eyes for his answer. “Without you I’ll never be free.”
Your jaw dropped. He tapped the tarot pendant still around your neck after all these weeks. “I could have had a free man’s life with her…but I can only have hope with you, my star.”
You grunted, not having any of it. Loki allowed you to continue hitting him as you let out all of your rage. Sylvie had died, and yet she had somehow still won. Without her around to absorb your blows, there was only one who could.
“I hate you! I hate you!” you screamed, continuing to lose yourself to grief as Loki sat before you, graciously accepting every blow. “I fucking hate you! You’re so stupid, Loki!”
The Doctor pranced back into the chamber, unaware of anything that had happened since Loki cast the stone into the vortex.
“We should be there in about ten minutes! Everything seems to be moving now--”
He stopped suddenly, understanding what had just transpired the moment he saw Loki rocking you back and forth as your sobs were reaching a zenith. It was all your doomed love could do to offer his arms for you to bury your face in. He turned his head toward The Doctor, silently telling him everything.
The Time Lord’s face fell as his hearts broke. You could hear him speak the words that you knew he only said when all chances of a happy ending were lost:
“Oh Loki….I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
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Fiona Apple at the 2007 New Yorker show.
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you fondle my trigger then you blame my gun - fiona apple, limp
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Possessive!Gojo who makes you wear his jersey when you go to parties at his fraternity after games, openly admiring the way you dwarf inside his clothes. He leans forward on the edge of the bed to get a better look, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes raking over every inch of you from head to toe.
"Toru, it's too big," you pout, checking out your reflection in the floor-length mirror on his closet door. “I look silly.”
The tent growing in his sweats says otherwise—all the blood in his body rushing from one head to the other just from seeing two things that are his coexisting—and he gives you another once-over, thinking of several ways to describe you, silly not being one of them.
"You’re so pretty, baby.” He swears he’s a little drunk from the sight of you, but he means it.
Possessive!Gojo who pushes you up against the door inside the locker room before a game—slightly jealous from the guys looking at you as they filed out into the hall, and equally turned on because he knows they can’t have you—telling you he can't play with a hard-on before he's pressing into you from behind.
He can feel your tummy quivering under his hand where he holds you close, feels how his cock is carving its way inside of you, and you both moan when he presses down lightly. It makes him dizzy how tight and small you are; pulsing, wet, and swollen-soft velvet that gives every time he buries himself into you.
"You gonna hold all of my cum in this cute cunt until after the game, y-yeah?" he sucks the question into your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick it out of you afterward. Just keep it warm for me, ’kay?”
You answer him with a high-pitched whine as you clench down hard around him, cumming with a muffled scream against his palm and nearly pushing him out of your warm, fluttering heat.
Possessive!Gojo makes sure to stuff his cum back into your drooling cunt with two thick fingers, curling them into your front wall to pull another soft orgasm out of you—just a little more, ah, there you go, always so good for me—before he helps you fix your panties to trap it there.
His arms wrap around you before he presses a tender kiss to your temple. “Don’t forget to cheer for me.”
Possessive!Gojo whose smirk from watching you squirm in the stands, melts into a glare when a guy takes the empty seat beside you, sitting almost too close for his liking.
“Stop staring at your girlfriend and hit the fucking puck already,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning against his stick.
Possessive!Gojo who makes sure to fuck you in the backseat of his car afterward with the windows cracked in hopes that the guy from the stands would walk by to you moaning Gojo’s name, and he eats you out just like he promised—bending you over the center console, smiling to himself at how shy and squirmy you get—only to fill you up again.
Possessive!Gojo who pouts whenever Nanami manages to steal your attention with something sciency and nerdy (something entirely up your alley) whenever you come over on weeknights.
“That’s so neat, Nanami,” you smile, hearts practically in your eyes as you listen to him talk about his latest research. “Maybe I can stop by the lab and check it out sometime.”
Possessive!Gojo who doesn’t miss the way Nanami’s ears turn a shade of red from your praise—color high in his cheeks—how he gives a sheepish smile whenever you talk to him.
“Toru,” you say, finally bringing your soft, pretty gaze on him again. “Are you even studying?”
Yeah, he is, but something else entirely, he thinks as he watches how your shorts hug your ass while you walk around the house’s common room—and he’s not the only one staring.
Possessive!Gojo who slaps your thigh, making you jolt in his lap. "Did I tell you to stop, huh, baby?"
You shake your head, biting your lip and avoiding the pair of eyes watching both of you (intently) from across the room—especially you—a quiet observer as you slowly sink onto your boyfriend’s cock while Nanami thrusts his own into his fist.
"Ah, fuck—b-but–"
Your words break off into a choked moan when Gojo thrusts his hips up underneath you, pressed as deep inside as he can get, and when he looks down, he swears he can see the imprint of himself pressing against your stomach.
"Tell me what I said,” he says through gritted teeth as he starts bouncing you, the couch continuing its steady squeaking under your knees.
Possessive!Gojo who can tell that it's hard for you to concentrate with the way his cock moves inside you, and you’re unable to answer with anything other than babbling nonsense. He decides to take mercy on you and stops to grind you in his lap instead.
He kisses your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on. "I said, don't stop until you cum, and you’re going to let Nanami see how fucking pretty you look when you do."
The next sound out of your mouth is a squeal when he holds your inner thighs to keep you open as he thrusts up into you again and again—letting Nanami see what can never be his.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “So good for me. Go on, show him how my good girl takes cock.”
Possessive!Gojo who locks eyes with Nanami just as he’s about to cum, burying his groans of pleasure into your neck as white-hot sparks shudder up his spine and heat pools in his gut.
Mine, he tries to say, but Gojo thinks his frat brother gets it when Gojo’s the one cumming inside you and Nanami’s spilling all over his fist.
Masterlist
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love and deepspace men when you (playfully) reject their kiss ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel
fluff, fluff, FLUFF
zayne
his kiss landed on the outer corner of your lips instead as you turned away at the very last second as he leaned in
he just stared at you for a solid five seconds.
“was this because i left you on read this afternoon?” his voice was soft, uncertainty danced across his feature. you just shrugged, turning away from him to hide the smile you’ve been trying really hard to suppress.
he grabbed a hold of your waist first, keeping you in place. he saw the shameless smile on your face, couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle of his own. “should’ve known.”
you laughed, “but you did left me on read, how dare you?” his thumb moved up and down on your side as he made no change on his expression, like doing a gesture he didn’t even realize doing it. “alright then, i apologize for not replying within twenty minutes, since i did give you a call as soon as i was available.”
you put your hands on either side of his cheeks, he leaned into the touch. of course, it didn’t bothered you one bit when he didn’t reply right away since you knew very well how demanding his job was.
you planted a sweet kiss on his lips, you could feel his little smile as you pulled away. “good work today, zayne.”
“hm, then surely you would indulge me more of that for a moment longer?”
xavier
he’s quiet for a moment; he did kiss you, but he didn’t know why you’d turn your head on the last second like that as he kissed you on the cheek instead.
he casted his gaze downwards, looking like a rejected kitten in a pouring rain searching for its owner.
your heart squeezed at the adorable act, lifting his chin with your palm. he tilted his head questioningly, the words was obvious on his face. did i do something wrong today? were you mad?
xavier stared at you as he recalled today’s events, but he reached his wits end pretty fast since he still had no idea why you’d reject his kiss.
you then giggled at his clueless expression, and xavier immediately understood that you’re being playful. he let out a little sigh of relief, embracing you. his neck deep at the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling you in the best way possible.
“you’re too playful at times,” he mumbled, he looked like he had all the peace in the world. “sorry, will you forgive me?” you ran your fingers through the back of his head. “i’ll forgive you if you promise not to reject my kiss ever again,” he said.
you laughed, “okay then, if you insist.”
rafayel
oh. he looked so offended beyond belief. you’d think someone had insulted his painting; a product from his passion and effort. but to think it’s just a face he made because you didn’t want him to kiss you.
“i see what this is,” he started, the dramatic side of him just wouldn’t let this slide. you challenged, “yeah? what is it?”
“you tell me. this is just the beginning isn’t it. first you reject my kiss, next thing i know you’d be packing your bags, telling me you’ve fallen out of love.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his pout was the most exaggerated as it’s ever been.
you had to hold your laugh so hard, you covered your mouth with your fist. “it was just a kiss rafayel, i wasn’t feeling it.” you replied, trying your best to sound serious.
“wasn’t feeling it?” he gasped, like you just insulted his whole entire bloodline. he put up a palm in front of your face, like refraining you to say more controversial things. he took a deep breath to calm himself, “it’s fine, it’s not like i was eager to kiss you either.” he mumbled like he was talking to himself, although it’s obvious he’s being a little loud on purpose. also, lies. he practically bounced on air when he approached you.
finally a laugh escaped you, rafayel looked at you and he just fumed. “just so you know i expect you to make up for all the emotional distress i just went through.” you laughed a little more as you grabbed a hold of his face. “i would kiss you many times to make it up but i think someone just said he wasn’t really that eager to kiss me?” you raised an eyebrow.
his eyes lit up for a moment at the mention of a kiss, and next second he looked around frantically to make an excuse. “it’s okay i understand, fighting that many wanderers who make a lot of strange screeching noises? it’d disturb your hearing a little. i said i was eager to kiss you.” he smiled, nodding to himself. you laughed once more at his ridiculousness.
“sure, let’s go with that excuse.” you kissed him and when you pulled away he held your head, giving you multiple kisses before he let you go with a grin.
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so obsessed with the “my cock is big so it wont fit” / “try me” relationship dynamic ughhhh thinking about this with simon and reader, and how reader’s desperation made them spiral, makes me so giggly
thinking about the way you finger yourself everyday to stretch yourself out for simon; preparing yourself for him. practicing for him.
it becomes a routine; it was mundane, almost, but every time the thought that you’re doing this for simon slithers its way back to the forefront of your mind, you lose yourself—doused in the tendrils of your desire, so powerful it has you clenching on your own fingers.
they never hit deeper, never stretch you out wider, but they scratch the itch to be stuffed and manage to satiate you long enough for the next day to roll by.
it’s a lot worse when you meet up with simon because your core throbs with need, leaving you crossing your legs to give yourself that muted relief. but it’s never enough, is it?
simon’s right there, voice thick like molten lava, viscous as it washes over you. “are you alright, love?”
and you lie, gritting your teeth and clenching your fists tightly, telling him that of course you’re fine. because what else can you say? “i dream of your cock so much that i fuck myself everyday as prep”?
if you do say that, simon won’t ever let you live it down. so you stay quiet, crossing-and-uncrossing your legs at every of his deep laugh or gentle crooning, trying your best to ignore the way his palm squeezes the muscle of your thigh. you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose by now because there’s no way simon actually does naturally talk like this—
it’s all teases and taunts as a whirlpool of petnames dribble from his quirked-up lips. he calls you, baby and darling. he calls you sweetheart and lovie. but then he also calls you pup, doll, pet—anything that makes you gasp, and quiet puffs of breaths wheeze out of your trachea in your own stupor.
“you seem distracted,” he murmurs, his voice a worried croon.
“uh-huh,” you say, not really listening, because simon’s hand is climbing up higher and higher on your thigh.
simon notices your stare, because of course he does, then does…
nothing.
he drops you off to your place that night, and leaves a kiss on your forehead before driving off. you watch from your living room window as he disappears from your line of sight before clambering towards your room, tearing your pants off your body and chucking your little slip of underwear behind you as you do so.
you sink into your plush mattress, knees braced by your softer pillows, before reaching behind you to plunge yourself with your fingers. two of them slide in easily, and you crook them just right until you’re mewling. moaning. crying.
simonsimonsimon—
your orgasm is a sharp rip of euphoric release. but the tidal wave of your ecstasy wafts off into its remnants just as quick because this, fucking yourself, isn’t the fix you want. it isn’t the fix you need.
(that said, making simon buckle was a lot easier said than done.)
you parted your legs yourself, planting your hands on the underside of your thighs to pull them open for simon. simon laughs when he saw this, his pale cheeks so flushed with his own desire.
“hurry,” you whine, all choked-up with your desperation, and simon only croons a warning.
“we need ta’prepare you, pup. i’m too big f’r you.”
his acknowledgment makes you leak, your wanton thoughts turning into slick that gushes out of you. simon laughs, so utterly endeared.
“i prepared myself, si! please put it in!”
simon sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i thought you wanted my cock?”
he waits for you to nod. you do so, careful, as your wet eyes look up at him.
“hmm. so listen to daddy, yeah?”
“okay,” you mumble, too overwhelmed to fight back.
simon smiles, murmurs his praises, and then he’s bringing his head between your legs. you squeak, surprise dotting your vision. you expected simon to prepare you, yes, but you expected his fingers—long, rough, thick—and not his tongue—
“siii-monnnn,” you keen, legs buckling from your hold until they tumble to his back, your strength getting zapped out of you at every lap of simon’s tongue.
it’s so good! so, so good!
simon takes over, hooking your legs over his shoulders himself as he burrowed deeper, nose grinding against the sensitive underside of your sex. his tongue pushes against your walls, sliding between them, and then simon sucks.
fuck! fuck—
sorta pt 02
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bottle up old love (jjk) (m)
summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.
pairing: Jungkook x Reader
rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)
genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff
word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)
prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)
warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol
MASTERLIST
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.
“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”
“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.
“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”
The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”
“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.
“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.
There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.
“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.
And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.
Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”
“Who the fuck are you?!”
“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”
Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”
Then he spins and takes off running down the street.
Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.
“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.
He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”
“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”
“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”
“So I should be worried about you then?”
He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”
You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.
It’s how he broke up with you after all.
You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.
“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”
But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”
“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”
Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.
Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.
“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”
And you close the door in his face.
The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and crush down the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Put him in a tiny little box that you refuse to touch.
You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).
The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.
Or so you think.
After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.
And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.
Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.
Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.
“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.
“He might come back.”
“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”
He shrugs. “If I have to.”
“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”
He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”
You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”
“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”
If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.
“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”
Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.
Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.
“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.
There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.
Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.
You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.
“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.
You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.
“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.”
It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.
Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.
“I’m sorry.”
Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.
“What?”
He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”
You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.
“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”
Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”
“Yes.”
He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.
“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.
“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”
This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.
“So then why?”
He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.
The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.
“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”
It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.
Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.
“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”
You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.
“I don’t…I don’t understand.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”
Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”
His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”
“No, shit.”
“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”
The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.
“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”
His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.
So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”
His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.
“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”
He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.
“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”
And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.
You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.
Speaking of.
The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you trace over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.
“Beautiful,” you whisper.
“Just like you.”
You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.
“You left.”
“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”
“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”
“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”
And it’s all you need to hear.
You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso.
“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.
You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.
But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”
Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.
“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”
A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.
“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.
You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”
“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.
Like you said. Insane.
He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.
“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”
He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.
“Fuck, me neither.”
You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.
“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.
“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.
So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.
“You?”
It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?
You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”
This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”
A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.
“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”
“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.
“Ride me, baby.”
You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.
“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”
You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.
He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.
You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.
“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.
Hard.
You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.
It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.
The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.
“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.
“I missed you.”
You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”
He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”
“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”
A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”
“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.
“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”
a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3
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