#and this is what half of us voted for. wonderful.

[hidden-poet]

Animal part 2

Synopsis: After visiting a bathhouse Logan meets you, and the animal within him starts clawing out.

Warnings: not canon, dark!, non-con, a little bit of romantisation of things that should not be romanticized, kidnapping, Dark!logan(jimmy? james?), dom/sub vibes, , female reader who is described quite a bit, rough sex, graphic sex, basically born with little plot, unedited and written in a couple of hours, dead dove to not eat.

Part 1 here

Part 2 (final)

AN: written and posted. Not looked over once.

You were silent the whole way from the plane to his truck. 

It worried him. You should be screaming. Hitting and kicking. But you weren’t. 

Was something wrong with you? 

He opens his old truck's door and you slide into the passenger seat willingly. 

Logan shakes his head as he closes the door. His resolve had softened if you ran now, he would have let you go. But instead, he places the bag into the bed of the truck. 

The car door squeaks as he opens it, and his seat makes a tired sound when he sits down. The car was old and often unused. 

He wondered if you liked motorcycles. He then wondered how often you would really be away from the house. 

“Alrighty then”, he comments, turning the engine over, “All ready?”. 

You don’t answer him, just turn your head to the window. 

The radio playing softly helped to fill the air with something other than the awkward tension.

He wondered why you weren’t crying. Why the begging had stopped. He would have loved to know what was going on inside of your head but you gave him no indication. 

Only when Logan began to drive from the city did you begin to twist your hands together in worry. He at least now knew you had a healthy dose of fear.  

“You hungry?” he asks, “we can stop and get something to eat”.

His offer is ignored. He glances over to see you still as a rock looking out the window.

Snow covered most of the landscape. All you saw was lumps of white and the odd car.

“Hey?”, he questions. He reaches out to place a hand on your knee to draw your attention, you knock your leg from under him, and he retreats his touch back to the steering wheel. 

“Maybe you just want to head home”, he talks to himself. 

“Home?”, you mock, “Where are we going?”

“Westchester county. We’re still about an hour or so from it. You’ll like it there. I’ve got an apartment just up from the school. Nobody will bother us there”. 

“You live near a school?” you ask. 

“Yeah, well I work there actually. It’s a special school. For mutant kids. We teach them how to control their abilities. Given em’ a chance no one else will give”. 

You are quiet for a second, taking the time to pull logans’ jacket tighter around you, trying to fight off the shivers encroaching your body. 

“I voted for mutant rights, you know”, you say. 

Logan reaches to the center console turning the heat as high as it would go. 

“Here , put your hands closer”, he orders. 

He reaches out to take your hands into his but you yank away from his touch. 

“I aint gonna hurt ya” he told you. 

“So long as I do what you want, right?” you quip. 

“No’ Logan protests, “No, no matter what.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. 

Logan leaves it, focusing on the road ahead. 

It’s an hour and a half of silence until he is finally travelling up the windy road to his home. 

The road is covered in snow, and thick forest covers the area. 

The large estate looked out of place in a mysterious and cold atmosphere. 

A warm, inviting glow invited passing buyers to stop. It looked full of life in isolation of the cold dead forest. 

Your eyes were glued to it as Logan drove past. You supposed it would have to be hidden, but you weren’t sure who benefited the most. There were some humans who would do harm to mutants, but there were some mutants who would do harm to humans too. 

“Pretty impressive isn’t it?” Logan asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. 

“How many students are there?”, you ask, 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a hundred”, Logan guesses. 

“A hundred mutants in just one place”, you say out loud. 

“Kids”, he corrects. His tone carried his annoyance. “A hundred kids in one place”.

You dont say anything further, in fear of upsetting him. 

Logan’s house was high in the mountains. There was nothing but his house and trees.

There was no one around to help. He could do whatever he pleased. You wonder if he would drop the nice guy act. 

He doesn’t. He parks the car, and carries the bags from the back. 

You follow him to the door slowly, he never hurries you. Just occasionally looks back on the journey to the driveway to the front door. 

The house didn’t look large. 3 bedrooms at the most. While the main build was plaster, it had a lot of wooden features. 

The door was a good oak wood, a long wooden bench was pressed up against the entry wall, a dull, yellow light shined from inside a wooden light fixture. 

When Logan opened the door, wooden floor boards greeted you. They squeaked as you entered the home. 

Logan flicks on the lights and you see a wooden table and chairs, an old worn sofa, a beaten up white fridge and rubbish everywhere. 

The bags are dropped to the floor to free his hands to clean. 

He picks up as many empty beer cans he can hold, and throws an old flannel that was thrown across a bar stool over his shoulder. 

“Sorry about the mess” he apologies, “Ah, i wasn’t expecting, ah”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, going to the kitchen to throw the cans away. The kitchen was immediately to the left of the door, an open living concept meant that you never lost eye sight of him as he moved.

“Didn’t think you’d go through with it?” you finished for him. 

Logan sighs, leaning against the counter with his hands. 

“I am not sure what I  was thinking”, he admits. 

“How long do you plan to keep me here for?”, you ask.

Logan shuts his eyes, his hands balled into fists on the counter, “I don’t know, darl”. 

“Right, well” you say without fear, “would you mind if I had a shower? It’s been a long day”.

Logan unravels himself at your request, heading from the kitchen down to the hallway. 

“Follow me”, he orders.

You do and he leads you to the bathroom at the end. It was spacious enough to hold a toilet, bathtub and shower. The floor was white tile, matching the sink. It was kept in good condition. Apart from the toothpaste on the counter, everything was in its place. 

Directly across was a sliding, wooden cupboard that Logan took a brown towel from. 

“The hot water takes a second”, he advises pushing the towel into your hands, “If you need anything let me know. I’ll in the end room”. 

You nod, going to shut the door between you two. He continues to stand there until the door is completely shut in his face. 

The tears that pool in your eyes are finally released. You don’t make a sound but the tears roll down your cheeks as you start the water and begin to take off your clothes. 

You didn’t really know where you were. No one knew where you were. And you were here, trapped with a mutant that commands blades to come out from his hands. He’s strong too, a quick healer and who knows what else. 

How could you possibly fight back against him? 

There was nothing you could do other than obey. He said he was a good guy. You mostly believe him. Perhaps this would be a quick trip and you would be back home within the week. 

The shower helps sooth you. You wished you had all your lotions and shampoos. He had one bottle of the cheapest shampoo on the shelf, and a bar of unscented soap. You use them anyway. 

Your skin felt sticky after everything that you had gone through. 

You turn the shower off and wipe your face clean of your tears before drying off in the towel. 

Your old clothes lay on the floor. You think about putting them on again but you finally feel clean, and what was the point of hiding, he had seen everything before. 

With the towel wrapped around you, you patter down to the end room. Logan was changing the sheets on his queen bed. 

He looks up as he stretches across the bed to fit the sheet. Seeing you standing there in nothing but a towel froze him. 

“Hey”, he says, still unmoving. 

You look around the room rather than at him. 

Logan didn’t have much, and you had a feeling that was a choice. 

The bed had mis-matched sheets, the table on the right side of the bed only had a lamp. There was a set of wooden, built-in cupboards that stretched nearly across the whole wall, you bet there were only a few items in there. 

Logan forgets the bedsheet, crawling off the bed and over to you, dripping wet on his floor. 

His finger hooks under the front of your towel and with an eyebrow raised, he tugs the fabric from you. 

It falls in the heap at your feet. You feel your face turn red as Logan looks over you, saying nothing. 

His eyes flick up after a moment, and he takes a hold of the side of your face, bringing you in for a kiss. 

Your hair drips over him as assaults your lips. You mumble against him but your lips are captured again and again before you could make a full word. 

He steps forward wrapping his arms around you so he could lift your feet off the ground and carry you over to the bed. 

He drops you on the part of the sheet that covers the bed in its unfinished state. 

It doesn’t seem like he was looking at you, as he stands between your legs and unbuckles his belt. 

His eyes cast off just beside where you lay, and a scowl covers his face.

With his pants down, he still doesn’t look at you. He lays his body over yours, and buries his head in your neck. 

His hand grips your thigh over his hip, and his other posts on the bed to keep his weight off you. 

Your hands dig in his hair, taking a firm grip and bracing yourself for his entrance. 

He shoves his entire length in the first go and it knocks an ‘oft’ out of you. 

He never leaves you, quick, needly thrusts jackhammer into you.

You feel so completely full with him inside of you. His body cages you, you felt you could do nothing more than take it. 

Logan grunts fill your ears. You had no space to even move your head to quieten the sounds. 

In his rush, his white t-shirt stayed on, you could feel the faint outline of his dog tags as he pressed against you.

You began to get sensitive, the more stimulated you got. Your hips bucked away from the pressure, but Logan's strong grip made escape impossible. 

“Stay fucking still”, he comanded. 

You do. Letting him runt into you, until he finally came with a soft moan. 

Your hands drop from his hair onto the bed but he remains in the same position. His face buried into your neck and his cock buried into your cunt.  

“You alright?” he asks in a soft voice against your neck. 

“I need another shower”, you comment. 

Logan lets you have the bed to yourself. He makes a make-shift cot on the floor beside you.

The sheets smell nice, although they are old and worn. 

His packing of your bags was done hastily and in a clouded mindset. You have four pairs of jeans, six tops, a handful of handerwear, a pair of leggings that were stuffed in with the jeans, and a grey singlet. No toiletries and only the brah you wore.

He had promised to take you to the shops to collect what you need, but he didn’t say when. For now you wore your leggings and one of his clean flannel shirts.

He leaves the lamp on for you and puts an extra blanket on the end of the bed in case you got cold during the night. 

The night was quiet. No car, nor animal could be heard outside. You were completely alone here. 

You wondered if Logan was asleep. It had been at least an hour since he last spoke or tossed. 

You turn to look at him on the floor. He looked asleep. His eyes were closed and his hand rested on his chest. 

He was quite handsome. It was too bad he was a mutant. 

You had nothing against them before this. That could have been because you had never come across one. But who could say? He looked so normal. 

How many other men in the bathhouses were mutants? How many thought about doing what he has done because no one could stop them?

You turn back away from him, the salt of your tears running down to your lips.

How hopeless it all felt. The only reason you worked for the bathhouse in a strange city was in the search of freedom and independence. Now it has cost you exactly that.

Who knows if he would even let you live after this. If he was one of the good mutants, who fought for man-kind, could he risk having this slip up against his name?

You sob at the image of his sharp claws digging through your stomach. 

“Hey” you hear Logan call, but you couldn’t stop crying. He leaps up from the floor and nestles up behind you. 

“Hey, stop that. It’s alright”, his arms goes under your pillow and his hand brushes the hair back again and again while he speaks into your ear, “Sh, it’s alright. Just go to sleep”. 

With his petting, and long day, your eyes droop into a restless sleep. 

—------

Once you woke the next morning, Logan was still in the bed with you.

His arm slung over your waist and his other under your pillow. 

You rise without him. Going out to the living room where living alone meant anything could go anywhere. 

You think about making a run for it, but it is zero degrees outside and you had no idea where you were going. The closest thing was the school, and you know mutants protect their own kind. 

Instead, you begin to tidy up. You begin with the rubbish which makes a huge difference. 

The kitchen had a dishwasher and you begin a new cycle with the dirty dinnerware.  Most of them were empty cups. He seemed to like coffee and alcohol more than food. 

You take inventory of his food. Most of it was out of date. You had wanted toast but the bread was moldy and the butter was scrapped bare. 

You open a can of peaches and eat those instead. You hoped he would make good on his shopping promise. 

Three peach slices in, you hear his bare feet as they bound against the floor. 

He looks frazzled reaching the living room.  His hands grip the frame of the entry as he brings himself to a halt seeing you in the kitchen. Only in his boxes and white shirt, he gazes at you like you were the one who was crazy. 

“You’re still here”, he comments. 

You pop another peach slice in your mouth before answering, “yep”. 

“You should have left”, he accuses. 

“Would I have got far?” you ask. 

He straightens up as he thinks about it, his hand comes off the door as he makes his way towards you. 

“No”, he confirms. 

He looks around the room in its tidy state, “Christ” he complains, throwing up his hands, “You didn’t have to. I don’t expect you to do things like that for me”. 

“I know what you expect from me”, you bite. 

“Hm”, he hums, once again avoiding eye contact with you as he walks your way.  

When he reaches you, he places both hands on the counter either side of you, trapping you once more. 

“Whatch’a eating?”. 

You hold a peach slice on your fork to show him. He leans forward, taking the peach into his mouth. 

“You want eggs?”, he asks. 

You nod your head, and he pushes back against the counter away from you. 

He takes the egg carton out of the beaten fridge along with mushrooms that had seen fresher days. 

The fridge door is kicked closed and you realise why it is in such bad shape. The ingredients are dumped on the kitchen counter in front of you. 

He takes a large knife out of the draw and throws it to the bench before reaching behind you to take a wooden chopping board that you had used for display. 

“You do the eggs, I’ll chop the mushroom”, you offer. 

“You like mushrooms?” he questioned as he reached for a plastic bowl. 

You nod once more and begin your task of slicing the mushrooms. You cut off the bad parts which leave only a small amount of mushrooms left. 

Logan whisks the eggs with salt and pepper in the bowl. 

“Did you sleep okay last night?”, he disrupts the peaceful quietness of focusing on the tasks.

“As good as can be expected”, you answer. 

He clears his throat, looking at the eggs as he speaks, “I’ll take you shopping today, if you want. We can go into town”.

He reaches for the mushrooms. You don’t think, you only do and pick up the knife driving it into his lower stomach. 

He grunts as its lodges but he shows no other physical effects. 

Blood leaks from the wound, redding his white shirt. With an eye roll he yanks the knife from himself and throws it into the sink. 

“That’s incredible” you say. The large wound should bleed furiously but it looked like it had stopped already. You raise his shirt enough to see the wound had already healed. Not a scar in its place. 

“Look, bub, I don’t mind a bit of foreplay but how about a warning next time, huh?”, he snaps. 

‘Does it hurt?”

“Yes” he grunts, shoving your hand away from his shirt.  “But lucky, I am a fast healer”. 

“What else can you do?” you ask once more. 

Logan falls away exasperated, “Look, you want eggs or not?”

He forgets the mushrooms and pours the egg mixture onto a pan. 

“I am sorry”, although you weren’t sure why, “I didn’t think it would hurt you”. 

“You want an omelet?”, he avoids the topic. 

He scraps the egg around the plan, attempting to flip it but the egg rips apart and falls back into the man. 

“You want scrambled eggs?” he jokes. 

You huff, looking at the egg in the pan. 

“However the chef prepares it, is fine”, you tease. 

He smiles at you, the knife incident long forgotten. 

You both eat at the table. Neither one of you having anything to say. 

“So, ah, I have to go to the school for a bit. I've been M.I.A for a while now” Logan says. 

He used to hate the thought of responsibility, being tied down by something but now it gave him a sense of purpose. The kids needed him. The school gave him a home, and he wouldn’t disregard that.

You nod your head. You could care less what he did. 

“What do you teach?”, you ask. 

“History” he answers, “I also help train them. Teach em’ how to use their abilities for good”.

“You said you did bad things. That doesn’t sound bad”.

“Yeah well, some people don’t want to be taught”, he growls. 

“Ah” you acknowledge, “You’re a mutant killer. “

“I am something”, he mutters. His appetite is gone so he pushes his plate away from him and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“So whats your plan?”, you ask him, poking at your eggs. 

“I’ll only be gone a few hours, after that we can go to town”.

“No”, you interject, “I mean for me. After all this”. 

He wasn’t sure how to answer. How could he tell you there was no after this? That he would do anything to keep you. 

“Bub”, he states, “I’ll never hurt you. I can promise you that”.

You look at him, unbelieving but say nothing more. 

He gets up from his chair and holds out his hand for you. 

“I want to show you something”, he explains. 

Curious, you take his hand and lead you back to his bedroom closet where he digs through to find a thermal jacket and a beanie. 

He places the beanie on your head and wraps the jacket over you. You stand there drawing in the material while he digs further into his messy closet. 

He finds what he is looking for with a satisfied grunt and produces thermal pants.

“What are you doing?” you ask him as he helps you step into the pants. 

“I just want to show you something” he repeats. 

Now dressed he takes your hand and leads you to the front door, where he stops to take big heavy boots from a line of perfectly organized shoes. 

“Logan”, you question in a tense voice. 

He continues to place the shoes on your feet, tying the laces as tight as they would go. 

With a sigh, he rises, reaching for the door and swinging it wide open. 

The cold air blows in. Snow covered the landscape, but had stopped falling from the sky a while ago. Yet everything remained frozen. 

“Go”, he states. He peers at you softly, bringing the hood of the coat up. His touch is gentle, and it leaves you quickly.

“Go?” you question. 

Where would you go to? You decided against running this morning, why would you now take the chance?

“Go” he repeats, “Don’t worry, I’ll come after you. I just want to show you what’s going to happen if you decide to leave while I am gone”.

You decide maybe you should go. It would be a good opportunity to test his limits. See what he can really do. 

You slip past him, running out to the surrounding forest. 

He makes no move to follow you. When you look back, he is still there watching from the doorway. 

When you could see nothing but trees, you realise that this was stupid. 

You had no idea where you were. How could you get to safety? You didnt even know if you were heading in the right direction. You were heading down from the mountain but once you got to the bottom would you reach a clearing? Your best hope was that a passing car would come, but you didn’t see any on the way here, what would be the chances of crossing one when you really needed it. 

Still Logan was a strange man, you shouldn’t give up, just because the odds seem impossible. 

You pick up a large branch and smooth over the snow, easing your footprints. 

The journey was cold. The wind picked up adding to your misery. You wondered if he let you go so you could die in the woods. You heard nothing as the wind howled, saw nothing but white. 

He was either giving you a wide head start or he simply wasn’t following at all. You couldn’t decide what was worse. 

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted you felt as if you were being watched but couldn’t see anyone or anything. 

Your feet pick up pace, the branch brushes your footprints away with ferocity. 

It’s in your head, you told yourself. You would have seen or heard him if he was close. 

When you feel hands on your hips with such strength that it stops you from moving, you second guess yourself. 

“Gotcha”, his voice teased. He leans down to your ear and softly bites your helix 

With a push to your hips, you are thrown into snow beneath you. 

You turn to face him, crawling backwards with the branch in your hand. 

“How?” you ask him. 

He follows with an amused expression on his face. He was dressed in only his jeans, a grey singlet and an overlay of a flannel. Yet he showed no signs of being cold. 

“Bub, there’s not a single place on this earth that you can go that I wont find you”. 

He raises his foot and presses it down on the branch you clung to. 

You stop crawling. 

“I believe you” you state, looking up at him. 

“Get up”, he tells you.

You don’t move, despite the snow melting into your protective gear and frozen hands. 

He drops to his knees in front of you. You preferred the distance when he stood but when you began to crawl back, he grabbed your ankles and slid you back over the snow. 

Once you were close enough, he leaned his body over you trappin you between him and the snow.

With his hands in the snow on either side of your head, he leans down to the side of your head and whispers in your ear. 

“You want it in the snow?” he coos. 

You push back against his shoulders when he reaches for the waistband of your pants. It doesn’t deter him so you raise your hand to slap him across the face. 

You don’t think he even registered it but you cry out in pain as the ripple effect shoots down your arm. 

“Careful” he tuts.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you up into a sitting position. You clutch your sore hand to your chest, and crouches in front of you, swiping his thumb across your lips. 

He gets up fully, reaching for the button of his jeans, his pubic hair springing out with no underpants on. 

“We’ll make it quick” he promises you.

You think about fighting but remember your sore hand, and past half an hour alone in the snow. 

Instead, you kneel into position. He seems surprised at your compliance as he positions himself in front of you. He lowers his jeans just enough to free his member, and you take it into mouth. 

He grunts as you behind to suck, throwing his head back. His hands dig into your hair to keep you there as you work your mouth around him. 

“You feel so good”, he sighs, almost reluctantly. 

Your tongue pads around him, you feel his cock twitch. 

The quiet atmosphere is broken by the sound of your wet mouth working him. 

The more worked up he got, the harsher the hold on your hair hurt to the point of pain. 

You try to pry the hold off. You thought he would know he was hurting you, but with his head turned to the sky, you weren’t even sure that he could feel your hands yanking at his finger. 

You stop, opening your mouth but unable to move your head. 

His next groan was angry, and he flings his gaze down at you. If his cock wasnt still in your mouth, you would have explained yourself.

He didn’t give you the opportunity, using the hold on your head, he drags you over to the nearest tree. You dont have enough time to get your bearing before your head is knocked into the tree as stopping point and he thrusts his hips into your mouth. 

Sitting on your bottom against the tree, rather then on your knees, you lose a lot of leverage. His pull on your hair keeps you from slumping as he drives his length into you. 

You begin to suck again, hoping to get him off so he would get off you. 

This wasn’t logan, this was the wolverine. An animal driven only by his needs. 

Your sucking calmed him a bit. His thrusts slowed and he rests his forehead against the tree with his eyes closed shut. 

He comes without a sound. No great groan that lets you know his salty cum was coming. 

He steps back, gathering himself. While he zips his jeans, you lay against the tree with his taste in your mouth. 

“Come on” he says softly. He picks you up and stands you on your feet. 

With a hold on your arm, he leads you back to the house. 

The thirty minute journey was walked in silence.

You wondered if he really wanted to show you his strength or if he just wanted an excuse.

He seemed eager to get back. It felt as if he was pulling you behind.

Once you reach the doorway, you are out of breath from his pace. 

He is fine, however, his breath even but his eyes clouded and angry.

The door was left unlocked, not giving you a second of reprieve as he pushes past it. 

As soon as you are through the threshold, he turns and pushes it close behind you before striping you of your layers.

“More?” you question as his needy hands push you towards the couch. 

“Baby, I am just getting started”, he answers. 

The arm of the couch takes out your knees as you are pushed over it. Logan climbs on top, going straight to your neck.

“What about the school?” you breathe. 

“Fuck the school”, he says, nestling himself between your legs. 

He rises only to take off his shirts, and reach for yours. 

Your bare chest is attacked with his lips while his hands reach for your pants. 

His hips buck into your soaked panties, the heat almost driving you insane. 

Did he have some mutant power to make you react this way? It confused you which upset you. You shouldn't be confused. You shouldn’t want him. 

You didn’t realise your pussy was bare until he enters you. 

You claw at his back as he thrusts into you. It seemed to encourage him.

“You’re so beautiful”, he says, “feel so good around me”. 

His brutal thrusts could not be slowed. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders trying to ease the force from his thrusts. 

Your head was no longer on the cushion of the couch but dug into his neck, completely wrapping yourself around his body. 

All too soon, you unravel around him but his cock continues to drive into you. 

Your moan couldnt be stopped. Your position meant it went directly into his ear. 

His chuckle tickles the shell of your ear. He thrusts now too harshly into your sensitive pussy. 

His hand wraps its way into the back of your head and he yanks you back down into the couch. 

With you there, the hand travels down to your clint and he begins rubbing while he thrust his cock in and out of you. 

You whine in pain from the over stimulation. Being pushished  for coming too quickly. 

You push against his hand with your own, begging him to stop. 

He does stop only to grab your hand and brings it down into your own wetness. 

“You do it” he demands. 

You cry out again, unable to form words as his cock spears into you. 

His grip is too tight to pull back although you try. 

“Do it” he commands again. 

You do as he asks, using your pointer to swirl around clint as he pounds you. 

With a free hand, he massages your breast, pinching at the nipple and rolling the flesh in his hand. 

“Don’t stop”, he orders as your hand stills, ‘keep going, thats a good girl”. 

Your tears pool. It was a bittersweet type of torture but torture all the same. 

Through your blurry eyes you could see him focusing on not hurting you. Fighting with himself to keep the animal in check enough to not hurt you. 

With a handful of your breast, he explodes inside of you and his thrusts stop, giving your sore pussy a break. 

He leans over you once more this time out of breath. You put your hand up on his chest, your finger slick with your wetness. 

You pant with him, your tears slowly choking you.

“You alright, darl’n?” Logan was back. The animal going to sleep after his victory. 

A sob croaks out of your throat. 

His eyes meet yours as his thumb wipes away your falling tears. 

“It’s alright, sh, it’s alright.”. 

He kisses your cheek softly before helping you up off the couch. 

“Lets get you cleaned up. Alright”, he says, gently leading you to the bathroom. 

You already were undressed so he turns on the shower. Cold water comes out at first and he holds you close while it turns hot. 

Your head rests on his chest and he wraps both arms around your shoulders. He keeps the position as he enters the stream. You sob quietly against him as you both stand under the water.

When you finally stop, Logan uses one hand to cup the water to wash your face. 

You look up at his hazel eyes, somewhere beneath them, the beast looks back. 

Freshly showered, you are dressed in another pair of your leggings and short shirt and placed back into bed. 

Logan lays next to you, back in jeans and a white singlet, not saying anything. 

A hard knock on the door breaks the stillness and you sit up in bed, surprised there was someone, anyone, out here. 

‘I’ll get it. Stay here”, he directs. 

He could smell the scent of the school lingering as he neared the door. He wondered which teacher was sent to lecture him or if Alexander took the time to do it himself.

The sight of three school kids was a surprise. 

He knew them well. Barely 16 but thought they knew the world. 

‘What are you doing here?”, he growls at them.

“When are you coming back to school?” Nortan asked. He was a funny looking kids with glasses too big, and a long torso that towered him over his classmates. He could break his particles apart and disappear into the air. 

“When I feel like it”, Logan quips. 

“You were supposed to be back today”, Lucy demanded, “We organised a class party”. 

She had the longest black hair Logan had ever seen. Smart as a whip but a massive stick in the mud. Her parents were accountants, and avoided talking about Lucy’s ability to turn her body into mental on command. 

“I am sure you all had a great time without me” Logan answers, going to shut the door on the children. 

Lucy’s mental hand wedged itself between the door and the frame, preventing it from shutting. Logan sighs. Children were a pain in the ass. Due to his mutation he could never breed, and now he feels grateful for it. 

“Is there something you want kids? What do I gotta do to get you off my doorstep?”he scolds.

“We want you to come back”, Lucy demands. 

The third boy, big and impossibly strong, now with a driver licence nodded his head in agreement. He said very little but heard everything that went on around him. 

“I’ll be back on monday. I promise. Now get back to school before I get called to go look for you”, he sho’s the children away. 

“If you are not back on Monday, we’ll bring the whole class to you”, Lucy threatens as the door closes in her face. 

“Yeah, yeah”, Logan dismisses. 

With that dealt with he goes to the kitchen and turns the jug on. He finds his prettiest cup and puts a tea bag in it while he waits for the water to boil. 

Your scream jolts his heart. He runs to you, claws out and at the ready. 

You stood in the middle of the bedroom with your hands covering your mouth, staring at the young boy in front of you. 

Norton stands there frozen. Mouth half a gap, shocked to see you.

“Get out of here!” Logan screams. 

Norton disappears into particles again, going out the same way he came in. 

Logan puts away his claws, rushing over to take you into his arms as you cry from the surprise. 

With one hand on the back of your head, and the other wrapped securely around your shoulders, he holds you close, speaking gently. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright. It was just a kid. You're safe”. 

“I hate mutants”, you sob, “all of you”. 

“Yeah” logan sighs, “I know”. 

—--------------

“Hey Bub” logan calls as he heads to the door, “I am going out for a smoke”. 

He lights the cigar as soon as his feet land on the porch. The past four years he has lived here, he has always smoked inside. The fresh air felt nice as he puffed away. 

He liked having you here. It brought him a sense of peace that he had long abandoned. 

A few seconds later, the door opens again and you appear wearing his winter coat. You stand awkwardly against the wall without a word. 

He is cautious of the smoke that blows over to you, and takes a few steps away, hiding the cigar down below his leg to stop its contamination. 

You scoff at him. 

“Really? worried about second hand smoke”, you taunt. 

“I heal, you don’t” he reminds you. 

“Who’s to say? Maybe smoking is your weakness and you die from good old cancer, just like the rest of us”. 

Logan takes another puff of his cigar, blowing the smoke back out. 

“Been smoking these for 60 odd years, haven’t killed me yet”.

“What?” you say astonished, “ 60 years?”.

“Nothing, forget it”, Logan dismissed. He felt embarrassed to admit his age. He was a dirty old man that didn’t deserve to touch the skin of you. 

“You going to tell me you can fly next” you muse. 

Logan laughs, taking another puff before answering, “I’ve been thrown from enough heights to know I definitely don’t fly”. 

The cold air has turned your nose pink, and a strong wind blew cold air down your jacket.

You sniffle as you pull it tighter around yourself. Logan, who is adaptable to the weather, stands unshaken. 

“It’s cold, why don’t you head back inside”, he says, pointing his cigar to the door. 

“Why don’t you stop telling me what to do? You have these intense mood swings. I never know who I am going to get Mr nice guy or Mr shut up and take it”, you bite. 

Logan sucks on his cigar, puffing away his frustrations. 

“I don’t know what you do to me, but I am not like that”, he argues. 

“Oh so it’s my fault?”, you mock 

“Christ, I didn’t say that” he waves the cigar in the air, losing interest as it burns, “You say you never know who you’re going to get, while neither do I. I’m-” Logan takes another drag of his cigar before finishing his sentence, you wait patiently for him, “I’m not myself around you. I am something entirely different. A thing I thought I left behind years ago”. 

“An animal” you deduct. 

“Yeah” Logan says in a hard voice, having another puff. 

“The wolverine”, you continue. 

Logan reaches up to take his dog tags in his hand. He couldn’t remember how he got the name, but he was stamped with it for life. 

“Go back inside”, he demanded. 

This time you do. 

—----------------------

Logan takes you to the shop first thing the next morning, letting you fill the shopping trolley with anything you like. 

He pushes the trolley behind you as you scan the aisle. He waits for a scream, a worried look given to a fellow shopper but  you remain calm and your eyes train on a bottle of shampoo as you read the label. 

He wondered what he would do if you did decide to show resistance. He tells himself he wouldn’t fight to keep you. Mutants already had a bad wrap, he didn’t need to make it worse. 

Although, he doubted he could do it. Just the image of someone standing between you and him had the pain in his hands shooting out. 

“Logan?” his name falls on deaf ears, so you try again, “logan?”

“Huh? What?” He answers, finally looking at you.

“Do you have a preference on body wash?”, you repeat, 

“Ah, no, whatever”. 

You throw the bottle into the cart and move down the aisle. 

“Look whats wrong with you?”, he asks in an accusatory tone. 

An elderly women makes her way down past them and Logan quietens his voice so no one can hear. 

“Why haven’t you tried to get away? You should do something”, he demands. 

“Ah, i’ve got Logan today”, you announce moving further down. 

“You’ve got Logan every day”. He follows you slowly, wheeling the trolley in front of him. 

“Bub, you should try”, he pesters. 

You stop in your tracks entirely, staring at him. Without a word, you approach him, coming up to his side and running your finger across his knuckles in answer. 

“I wouldn’t”, he breathes. 

Again you are silent. Just looking at the puzzle of a man in front of you. 

“Stay then”, you tell him. 

You break away from Logan, walking forward from him. 

He stands still, doing as he is told. He watches you as you walk away in no particular hurry. 

You get to the end of the aisle before his feet involuntarily move after you. 

You laugh at him as he catches up, but he feels the heat of embarrassment and shame. 

Like a stray dog, he chases after you. With matted fur and baring teeth.

—---------------------------

You help Logan inside with the groceries. Your addition to his life brought twice the stuff. 

The empty pantry was now full again, the bathroom racks had more than one type of shampoo and your toothbrush sat proudly next to his. 

It was a life Logan had long forgotten about. This place had felt like solitary confinement, a punishment for being a dangerous dog, but now it was a home. A place he could return to once the killing was done. 

He shows his appreciation by backing you into the corner of the kitchen counter by your hips and kissing you deeply. 

He doesn’t know why he did it, but he bit down on your lower lip, drawing blood. 

You made a startling sound, the pain of your lip almost instant. 

He pulls back shocked that he did such a thing. You look up at him, tears in your eyes and a quivering lip. 

“Shit”, he expressed, “Bub, I am sorry”.

He rushes to go get some paper towel to stop the bleeding. 

“Let me have a look”. 

You dont allow him. Pulling your head back. He takes your chin in his hand and pulls your head back to him. 

“I am sorry. I don’t know why I did that’, he apologized as he pressed the white paper towel to your lower lip. 

You don’t accept it, crying loudly. 

“Please, I am sorry”, he begs, “it wont happen again”. 

 You take the paper towel and press it to your lip yourself. Unable to form words. 

Logan takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving the side of your head a gentle kiss. 

“Shit, Logan”, you scold. 

He can feel you trying to push away but he won't allow you to. Why did he have to ruin everything he touched? 

“I am sorry”, he says again. 

He pulls back to take your chin between his fingers to examine the bite. It has split your lower lip, leaving a nasty red line through the pink flesh. 

“Bub-I-”, he stumbles, “I am so sorry. I’ll never hurt you again”.

“Move”, you told him in a stern voice. 

He does at once, and push past him to the bedroom. 

He gives you space for the rest of the night. Going out to the porch to smoke cigar after cigar. 

It gave you freedom to potter in the kitchen to make your dinner. 

He felt so guilty as you slammed draws shut. He was still unsure what possessed him to bite down. Until you reacted, he hadn’t realised his teeth were sinking into your lip. 

What else would he do carelessly? How long before he did something fatal? 

He should have let you disappear at the store. If he was a better man, he would have got in his car and left. But as time proved again, and again, he was not a good man. He was underversing of all good things, so why wouldn’t he keep a tight grip on you?

He would just have to learn to be more cautious. To watch what he is doing at all times. The animal within him would be put on a leash. No one, not even him, would hurt you again. 

Logan rubs out his lit cigar on the wood of the porch, throwing the end into his ashtray and going back inside. 

You don’t pay him any attention, continuing to stir a sauce in a pan with no acknowledgement. 

It was the silence that he hated. He could take abuse. But to treat him as if he didn’t exist was cruel. 

Even as he came closer, you pretended not to notice him. 

When he picks you up and places you on the counter, it does earn your attention. You stare at him in surprise as he edges his way between your legs. 

“I am sorry”, he repeats again. He kisses you this time gently, showing you he can control himself. 

“I am sorry”, once more, as he tugs you into him with a pull of your thighs.

“I only ever want to make you feel good”, he promises, his lips moving to your neck. 

To his surprise, you pull him closer, your fingers wrap themselves into his hair, and your legs entrap him where he stood. 

He takes it as permission to move his hands to the button of your jeans. 

You make no comment as he pulls them off, disregarding them on the floor. 

His own jeans prove harder to undo with the small space allowed, but he manages, and he closes the cold gap between your bodies. 

His lips continue their way around your body, kissing every inch he could find. Your breaths become ragged, and your fingers become stiff in his hair.

“You want it?” he asks, before he inserts himself. His tip slides through your thickness, shooting electricity through your body. 

“Logan”, you whine, pressing your head back into the kitchen cabinets. 

“I asked you a question”, he snapped. He needed to hear it. That you didn’t think he was a completely unworthy, unloved, animal. That the initial attraction at the bath house was all in his head. He needed to hear you wanted him, even one tenth as much as he wanted you. 

“Yes, please”, you beg, “please”. 

He groans as he sinks himself into you. He keeps his pace, even and gentle, watching your face for any discomfort. 

He found none. You kept your eyes closed and your fingers tugged at his hair almost in encouragement. 

The sauce makes an awful sound as it boils over, your eyes shoot open, watching as it spills over the sides. 

“Logan” you complain. 

He blindly reaches for the handle, not stopping his pace, and shoves it off the heat. 

You bear it no more mind, moving your fingers from his hair to his arms. 

This time you kiss him. He tastes the blood as your lip reopens causing him to pull back away from you.  

Shame fills him once more, and he is forced to bury his head into your collar bone to hide his face. 

“Oh princess”, he complains. His hands ball at your shirt, keeping a statue form so he remained in control at all times. 

“Logan”, you moan as an orgasm approaches. 

 He reaches up to place both hands on the side of your neck, feeling your pulse beneath his finger tips. 

It quickens as you come. Your sweet sounds fill his ears. For a second he continues, but he feels your hips begin to pull away. 

He forces himself to pull out. You hated the overstimulation, he knew that but driven by instinct he often continued until he got his fill. Not today. Today, Logan would remain in control. 

He looks distressed as he yanks himself away from you. His eyes narrow at the floor and his breaths are deep and angry. 

You could see him fighting with himself as he reaches for his pants. He didn’t finish. His need still clear on his face. 

“Hey”, you call. His eyes flicker up to you, and you beckon him to come closer. 

You take him back into your arms. Wrapping one around his shoulders while your hand reached for his cock. 

He shudders as you  stroke him. His hands grip the countertop, scared to touch you in his current state. 

It was so unexpected. Happened so fast he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He rested his forehead against your shoulder. Your scent attacked his nose, driving him into a frenzy. 

Your hand worked its way around his cock. It was still wet with your own cum, making a sloppy sound as you jerked him off. 

He came with a loud groan, the kitchen counter crumbled under the power of his hands, and the wall behind you was punctured by the tip of his claws. 

You yelp as they make impact into the drywood. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s okay”, he puffs. 

You rest your head back into the cabinet behind you, regaining your breath while Logan tugs away his claws and cock. 

“Clean this up”, you command of him, “I’ll finish dinner”. 

Later that night, Logan draws you a bath, and washes your hair. Wanting you to experience the peace you brought him. 

“Weird to be on the other end”, you comment as his fingers massage the shampoo into your scalp. 

“You just relax, baby’’, he tells you. 

You do, leaning into his soapy touch as he worked the knots out of your neck and shoulders, 

“You know”, you say after a moment, “You said you were going to tell me”. 

“Tell you what?” Logan asks. 

“Everything”, you answer, “I found a box in your cupboard. It was filled with war medals, and old photos”. 

“Jesus, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to touch other people's shit”, he quips. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”. Your comment silenced him. His hands move off you and onto the rag, wringing out all the water. 

“Alright, what do you want to know?”, he relents. 

“How many wars have you been a part of?”, you question him. 

“Too many”.

“That’s not an answer”, you complain. 

“Best one  I’ve got. Here lean back”, he washes the shampoo from your hair gently. Taking his time to do so, to avoid any more questions. 

But as you rise once more into a sitting position, you target him again. 

“How did you become what you are?”, you ask him shyly. 

“I was born this way. At least I think so. There’s a large crucial part I don’t remember. Some story about a general making me into a weapon, but I am not too sure I believe it. I think I’ve always been like this: violent”. 

“You are not violent, Logan”, you protest, turning to look him in the eye, “I am not sure what you are. A stray loyal dog, a man so frightened and lonely. The wolverine”, You lean closer to him, handing over the tub in bare form. 

“All of the above. But not violent”, you reach out with your wet hand to his flannel sleeves, “A violent man could never be as gentle as you can be”.

“I’ve done bad things”, he whispers, “hurt people. Hurt you. I am so sorry, bub”. 

“You are not an animal, Logan”, you state. 

You look at the man in front of you. His big, brown eyes speaking of his hurt. The wolverine was nowhere in sight. Logan knelt before you fully man. A man who had been through so much pain and suffering. The wolverine protected all he loved, but left him with a feeling of being unworthy of it all. 

The men who wanted to use him branded him as an animal. Something they could own and control. But his nature fought back. He wasn’t a weapon, he was a soldier who fought to protect.

He gets up suddenly, stepping into the bath still clothed in jeans and singlet and his flannel. His lips met yours in need which you return and he lays himself across you in the tub. 

You claw at his clothes, helping them off his body. 

The water sloshes around, over the side of the tub, toppling onto the floor. 

You clutch his dog tags in your hands. Your thumb glazes over the indents of his name, while Logans attacks your neck in gentle kisses. 

You flip the metal, feeling the letters on the other side w-o-l-v-e-r-i-n-e. 

—-----------------

The next morning you watch as Logan gets ready to go to work. 

You could tell he was excited, if not nervous to leave you for the day. 

He straightens out his jacket, looking around for anything he might need for the day. 

“I’ll ah leave the keys to the truck here” he states, placing them down on the table, “in case you want to go anywhere”.

In haste, he goes to the door, picking up his motorcycle keys and reaching for the handle. 

“See you, baby”, he says. 

“Hey, Logan”, you call out after him. 

He pauses in the doorway, turning his head to you but leaving his body in flight. 

You walk up to him, still dressed in his t-shirt from bed, and take his face into your hands bringing him in for a kiss. 

“Have a good day”, you tell him. 

“You too”, he grins back, “I’ll be home soon. Wait for me?”.

You nod your head, and with another quick kiss he is on his way. 

You close the door after him to keep the cold out. But you hear the roar of his old motorcycle speed down the driveway. 

—------

Logan tries to keep his mind off you all day. 

He wonders when he returned if you would still be there. He decided it was enough to be loved even for a short time. He couldn’t chase after you. But he would remember you for the rest of his horrible mutant life. 

Still he remembers how his heart pounded, and his feet shifted by themselves at the grocery store. Even with his best intentions, would he be able to stop himself?

He avoids Xavier all day. With his defences so weak he wasn’t sure he could keep the old man out of his head. 

The kids help to distract him. At least while he was focused on helping them, he wasn’t thinking about the potential heartbreak of going home. He was loved here, he knew that. But they loved the wolverine. 

The protector, the leader, the mentor. The animal. The weapon that would keep them all safe.

He smiles through the class party thrown for him, welcoming him back. 

Why couldn’t this be enough? To be a part of a safe haven for kids? He had lived without love for so long, why now did he yearn for it?

The quiet sound of Xaviers chair rolls up next to him. Cornering Logan at his own party. 

“You have been avoiding me”, he states. 

“I’ve been busy”, Logan returns.  

“So I have heard”, Xavier quipped. 

Logan's blood ran cold. How did Xavier know? He was sure to kick Logan out of the x-men. He would be pushed away from the only family he knew, and he deserved every bit of it. 

“Listen”, Logan begins but Xavier interrupts him before he can self incriminate. 

“You should know the children hold you in too high regard to tattle on you. I was worried about you, old friend. So when I heard Norton thinking your name, I couldn’t help myself”, he explained. 

“Professor, I-”, how would he explain this in a light that doesn’t leave him the bad guy. 

“It’s quite alright, Logan. She doesn’t want to leave”, Xavier finally looks at Logan, “I followed you to the grocery store”.

He wheels his chair back, looking to make an exit. “I’ll be checking in from time to time, the second she decides otherwise, I’ll be there, and yes, I am working on your request. How were you going to break that one to me, old boy”. 

Xavier moves on to other guests, but Logan is forced to take a seat.

—----------

Logan lets his last class of the day go early. He himself was eager to get back home. 

He could smell you inside as he put his motorcycle away. The smell of you eases his mind. It was true you didn’t want to leave. Even after everything he had done. 

His hand reaches for the door, but his fingers fail to grasp it. Instead he retreats to the fence of the porch, gazing out to the snow. 

For the longest time, he had no idea who he was. His dog tags the only link to his past life. The professor has helped fill in a few dots. But mostly only brought nightmares of the animal he once was. 

He thought that's all he could be. All he was. 

The wolverine was a part of him, yes, but so was Logan. For the first time, he would discover who he was, not what he could do.

He hears the door open behind him, and your bare feet against the wood. 

“Hey, are you coming in?” you ask him. 

He turns back over his shoulder to look at you. Dressed snuggly in his jacket with his flannel poking out underneath. 

“Come here”, he requests, opening his arms. 

You fall into them easily, and he hugs you tightly against him. 

Kuekuatsu, the word enters his brain. He is unable to shake it. He wonders what it means and where it came from. 

He doesn’t dwell on it too long, as you are pulling him inside, and he follows like a dog on a leash. 

[m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e]

Not even 24 hours in and the richest man in the world just did a Nazi salute in 2025 on national television

[light-wrath-paradise]

Animorphs Book club book 8

My reaction can be summarised as this (yet again):

I don't have many thoughts because uh. That was depressing as hell and I need to stare at a wall.

But I DO gotta say that the subplot with the dead "wife" was so telenovela-esque that for a good minute it was more funny than depressing. Then it got depressing. But it was so jarring and so far out of the left field that for a good second my friend and I had to pause the audiobook and laugh because ????????? Unhinged to just appear, go "I am Eslin, I have a G U N. My secret wife was killed. By my boss. Now I yearn for sweet sweet revenge." and not elaborate. Like. Damn dude ok. Sorry about our wife also. Fucking killed me that he continued like "So anyway I reacted adequately by killing all of my boss' friends. Starvation style." Like ???? Jjhsgdjsdfghsjdfh what????? I mean damn I do respect the grind set but also that's such an absurd escalation out of context. Did your boss kill your wife? Kill all of his friends! And in context the most absurd part is probably the notion that Visser 3 has friends??????? Like??? Wait no Eslin. Eslin wait. I love your John Wick-esque "fridged wife" trope swag but you need to slow down. I need details. I need you to tell me HOW your boss even has friends.

In my heart I do not believe we will see that madman ever again but on god I do wish for an insane telenovela-esque sequence of him just showing up at the most random moment to do exactly one thing and that's to pull a gun on Visser 3. For no reason, I just think it would be kinda funny. Like,,,did your boss kill your wife?:

Kill all of his friends

Acquire a G U N

Attempt to make the local Andalite youth assassinate your boss for you

Pull the gun on your boss

???????

Profit (probably die)

Aside from that, I also need to say that the moment when Ax called Tobias his close friend at the end was so sweet. Also ngl kinda...concerning/harrowing how much Tobias really doesn't give a shit about not being a human. Like it doesn't seem so concerning from other points of view but the way Ax gets increasingly weirded out by Tobias not asking him about the nothlit (idk if I'm spelling that right rn) really reminds you that it IS kinda worrying. Like I get it, I mean...Tobias has no family that cares about him, he has no friends outside of the Animorphs friend group, why would he care? But it's still kinda...yeah.

Also unimaginably surprised by the amount of collective guilt present in the Andalite society. You'd think they're Catholic or something the way they keep beating themselves up and force everyone to also beat themselves up and their system itself is saturated with the guilt and shame and they teach it to kids at school from an early age. Like. Jesus Christ calm down. Stop that. As the Animorphs said at the end of the book - the Andalites made an oopsie once. It sucked, yes, it continues to have consequences that suck, yes, but it happens. Sometimes you think you're doing something kind and it turns into a disaster. That does not mean you should beat yourself up for it or, god forbid, tell other people that they should not be kind lest they make a mistake. Damn I guess we should all be cold assholes forever, huh? I'm sure that can't have any negative consequences.

Andalite society in general seems kinda unhinged. Like...do I get why it is like that? Yeah. But do I find it unhinged? Also yeah. Like ok duty and the collective being the most important things is totally sensible for a prey animal. Safety of the herd and all that. But it's still kinda unhinged that they do make everyone have duty as their number 1 priority and that they have rituals devoted to it. Not all rituals are spiritual or religious in nature, but the morning ritual is kinda...borderline religious in a way. More spiritual than religious, I suppose, but yeah.

Also I love Ax so much. 10/10 character. He has it all: an incredibly hilarious desire for cinnamon buns, the inability to act like a human being (same dude), spitting random facts at completely random times, a thirst for blood only a 13(?) years old could have, a dysfunctional obsession with duty and doing what is right that only a 13(?) years old could have (also lol yeah dude I was like that when I was 13 too. dw you'll grow out of it), he can even code. And he might even be bi (I'm joking but I' referring to the fact that he was like "Yeah so when I morph into a human form I suddenly agree that Rachel is beautiful and that Marco is cute.").

[girlatmirror]

bend my rules | jjk

in which jeongguk jeon, the frattiest of all frat boys, has been trying to get you to go out with him since freshman year, no success. what if the events that occur in junior year change your opinion on jeongguk and you actually give him a chance?

rich! jeongguk x reader

warnings: detailed virginity loss (minors, go away!), use of yn, jk is a little dumb sometimes but he’s a sweetheart, jk is a frat boy, minor mention of SA (nothing too triggering (i hope)), i love yn, taehyung mention 🫶🏼, yn is thick asfff (#needthat), desperate jk, use of both jeongguk and jungkook (i’m an indecisive bitch sorry), he gets the girl!

another scenario with this couple ‘couple’s getaway’ !

——-

Jeongguk needs no introduction. There was not a single soul at Berkeley University that didn’t know of him. Even the freshmen got introduced to who he was on their first day. With a powerful presence, daddy’s money, and unfortunately for you, a gorgeous, gorgeous face and muscles for days, Jeongguk takes the entire world by storm. He had that something about him that makes every guy want to befriend him and makes every girl want to be with him.

He was a business administration major, now in his senior year; his goal? To take over his father’s many businesses when he graduates. He could have done that without college, but his family put a lot of importance on education.

He was simultaneously in a frat and also lived alone in a penthouse off campus. You always wondered how he was allowed to be in the frat if he wasn’t living in the fraternity itself. But he’s the king of Kappa Sigma; they couldn’t vote him out. You met Jungkook at a party thrown by a friend’s friend, who is also friends with Jungkook, during the second semester of freshman year. He approached you with charming confidence, asking for your number. You declined politely, and he has not left you alone since—following you around, asking you out, giving you gifts, inviting you to parties that you never ended up attending, asking your friends about you, pretending to share your interests to get closer to you, and so on and so forth.

The one thing that was good about freshman and sophomore year was that you had no classes with Jungkook. So the last two years, you had Jungkook-less classes, except for the ones he decided to barge into uninvited and declare his love for you. Junior year came, and with it, Jungkook decided to sign himself up for the 18th-century literature class with Professor Sullivan.

Your major was English literature.

Professor Sullivan’s class was one of your favorites—the debates, the topics, the atmosphere. Also, the fact that Professor Sullivan liked you a lot. The topic of this lesson was: the role of women in literature in the 18th century.

"Women in the 18th century played very crucial roles as empowered figures; that is a fact. Authors like Mary Wollstonecraft, for example; she challenged societal expectations and wrote incredibly critical narratives that advocated for women’s rights,” you argued with a steady voice.

From across from you, you heard a voice you dreaded. "Yn, no one can argue with you about the existence of women authors at the time, but were they really all that empowering? I mean, they pretty much all were dependent on men. For example, ‘Oroonoko,’ written by a woman, yet it represents a male hero, while the female perspective is secondary.”

“Well, Ben, if you had taken my argument or really, any historical context into consideration, you would understand that, male hero aside, a woman producing literature of any kind in that era meant that she was asserting herself in a male-dominant, or rather, in a female-submissive world, and that in itself is resistance. It embodies power. I rest my case."

Ben was about to open his mouth to argue back when the door to the lecture hall interrupted him.

"Mr. Jeon, you are half an hour late," Professor Sullivan spoke to the interrupter.

In that moment, Ben became the least of your worries, sexism and all. You felt as if your life was upside down and you couldn’t get it up. What the hell was he doing in this class? This isn’t even his thing; he will fail! He will fail miserably!

"I sincerely apologize, Professor. It won’t happen again," the deep voice apologized before stepping forward and finding a seat.

As his piercing brown eyes found yours, the usual smirk found its place on his lips, and them and their owner made their way directly towards you. He sat down with the same expression on his face. "Hey, gorgeous. Miss me over the summer?"

He put his muscular arm around your shoulder and kept his head tilted to the side to stare at you, admiring the beauty before him from head to toe. You were wearing flared jeans and a tight pink long-sleeve shirt that accentuated your generous breasts. "Cute outfit, baby. Pink is your color; I’ll make sure to buy you lingerie in that same shade."

Before you could answer, Mr. Sullivan stated: "Mr. Jeon, we were just discussing the woman’s role in 18th-century literature. I am sure Ms. Ln will fill you in on what you have missed so far, but I wish for you to pay attention to the rest of the lecture. I know Ms. Ln is much prettier than I am; nonetheless, I hope you can find it in yourself to pay more attention to me and less to her."

The whole hall broke out in laughter, amused at the professor’s wit. Jungkook just continued smirking at you, seemingly also amused at the professor, and you sat in silence for the rest of the lecture, blushing.

The lecture ended quickly after, all the students making their way out, and you would’ve done so as well, but you needed to have a little talk with the man sitting beside you first.

"What are you doing here?" you nearly hissed at Jungkook, who was still sitting, your arms crossed around your chest.

"What do you mean, baby?" he provoked. "You don’t want me here or something?"

One thing that can be said about Jungkook was that he was a very persistent man. Even after your countless rejections, he somehow managed to come back stronger, bigger, and harder to fight off.

"You know I don’t want you here! What are you even doing here in the first place, Jungkook? What do you want?" Your hands were on your full hips as you questioned him.

He looked up at you with a shimmer of amusement and a raised eyebrow, his eyes tracing every curve. "You know, Yn, you look really good from this angle."

The thought of kicking him in the head came to you, but you fought it off. "Answer my question."

"I’m not gonna answer a question you already know the answer to. You know damn well why I’m here; I want you, and I wanna see you, and I want you to finally go out with me so we can live happily ever after and put me out of my misery," he proclaimed, with the spirit of Romeo possessing him.

"You just did, though," you noted with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"You just answered a question I already know the answer to." With that, you grabbed your bag and swayed away from the man, who was too distracted watching you walk away to comprehend that you were gone.

___

On a Friday night, you had a lot you could do: read a new book, talk to your mom, whom you hadn’t seen in two months on the phone, organize a sleepover with your friends and watch a movie, finish the five essays you haven’t finished yet, go off campus and try new food, and if you don’t like it, get the food you know and like and eat it.

But in Avery’s opinion, there was nothing better to do than to go to the Kappa Sigma party. You would usually not necessarily disagree; a party is sometimes exactly what you needed, but not this Friday and not at Kappa Sigma.

"Avery, did you forget the 100 times that I have told you he is now in my 18th-century lit class? I had to see him three times this week for almost an hour each lecture. Those are three hours where I had to see him, where I had to hear him speak," you dramatically articulated. "And if you count the times that I have seen him in the halls, and the one time I saw him in the library, and the one time he came into my poetry class and sat there, watching me for 20 minutes before Professor Sinclair told him to leave, and the one time he came here to give me flowers and ask me out, that makes like a hundred thousand hours that I had to see him this week. I do not wanna go to his party!"

Your roommates all looked at you like you just fell down from an alien spaceship. Nora was the first one to react. "Your math skills are really bad, Yn."

Avery rolled her eyes. "True, but that’s besides the point; Yn, why are you whining that the hottest and richest guy at this entire university wants you and has been wanting you for the last two years? That’s a flex, girl! Now, go put on a sexy ass outfit on that sexy ass bod and let’s. go. out."

"Woooo!" you heard Sasha yell from the kitchen, making you crack a smile amid your misery.

"Alright, but next Friday, I choose what we do," you claimed, with full intention of keeping that promise.

_

You and all four of your roommates arrived at the Kappa Sigma house with outfits that nobody else could compete with. You were wearing a tight, black off-shoulder shirt and a red mini skirt that emphasized your already emphasized thickness. Topped off with soft glam makeup and black heels, you felt like a real woman.

"Welcome, ladies," the deep voice that could only belong to Taehyung greeted you. "Sasha."

"Hi, Tae," Sasha purred, her hands quickly finding his neck, leaning into a passionate kiss.

These two had been a couple for a few months now, after a whole year of being on and off. Despite the stereotypes of frat boys, Taehyung knew how to treat his girl right.

You entered the house with one friend less; Sasha disappeared with Taehyung into the chaos that is the current state of this house. Your other roommates quickly disappeared as well, much to your dismay.

Now, your goal was to socialize, maybe drink a little something, but not too much because of the essays that you would have to write the next day. Your eyes scanned the house for a familiar face, and it landed on one.

One that was looking you up and down with hunger. He signaled you to come over where he was sitting with a bunch of girls and one other guy. You shook your head no, so he came over.

"Yn! I’m glad you came, baby." He hugged you, and you only half-hugged him back. "You look gorgeous, of course."

"Thanks, Jeongguk," you said politely.

You and he had a complex relationship; the first time he saw you, he showed romantic interest in you, showering you with affection and gifts. He never stopped. You always rejected him, no exceptions, even at times where you wanted nothing more than to say yes. Yet he was always kind to you, and you were kind to him (most of the time). Your mutual friends always brought you together; it was as if you couldn’t escape one another—to his pleasure and to your dismay.

"Lemme get you something to drink," he went into the kitchen and came back with a soda can. "Here, I know you usually don’t drink, so I got you a cola; hope that’s fine."

"It is, thank you," you smiled softly and started drinking the cola. "So, you’re interested in literature this year."

You only started a conversation because you knew he would not leave your side the entire night anyway, and you would prefer it if you picked the topic of conversation instead of him.

"Hell yeah, I love me some Samuel L. Jackson," he stated, making you laugh.

"You mean Samuel Johnson, you idiot," you said, giggling as you pushed his strong arm playfully.

He watched you giggle, gazing as if you hung the stars. "Yeah, yeah, same thing, same thing." With his boyish smile, he said, "Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by signing up for the same class as you. It was kinda out of pocket, even for my standards. I know the last person you wanna see is me, so if you want me to drop it, I will."

Your jaw metaphorically dropped at Jungkook’s words. Those are words that came out of Jungkook’s mouth? Does that mean that he will leave me alone completely if I wish? What does this mean?

A strange emotion settled deep inside you; you started wondering if you had done something wrong or if he perhaps found another girl he wanted to ask out even more than he wanted to ask you out.

"Jungkook, it is your right to choose whatever class you want to be in; I can’t be mad at you for that. Besides, you will learn a lot from Professor Sullivan; he’s great," you reassured him with a sweet voice.

"Yeah?" He grinned, recognizing that this was your way of saying you did not want him to leave.

"Oh yeah, he is a delightful old man. The stories he has to share are amazing. Did you even know he’s married to Professor Martinez? The reason why she hasn’t taken his last name is that he was against it, telling her, ‘Maria, if you take my name, that is erasure. Erasure of your life before my appearance, and erasure of your beautiful Mexican heritage, Maria. Do not change your name to mine; I am technically your oppressor.’ He told us that story maybe about 23 times, and he made sure to roll the r real hard," you found yourself joking with Jungkook, as your mind took you back to Avery’s earlier words.

It was not the first time that your friends said the same words to you; they always expressed their envy and their confusion about the situation with Jungkook. But you were thinking much deeper than them.

Much to everybody’s surprise, you never had a boyfriend, and you were also still a virgin. The most you did was a kiss you shared with a guy at your high school graduation, which you immediately regretted. You had high standards. For yourself, for your future, for your future husband, and for everyone you allowed to enter your life. It was not about not having options; God knows you had many. It was about knowing for sure that the man you give these things to—your trust, your dignity, your virginity, your love—would be the right one, the one that deserved it. The idea that Jungkook—the man who gave you his undivided attention for two years straight and spoiled you without being asked—was perhaps the man for you didn’t sound so unbelievable anymore.

When you were a freshman and before you met him, you heard stories about him—stories of the parties he threw, the money he had, the many girls he fucked. These stories made you cautious, even though he put in real effort to get closer to you, you were hard to impress, and it was even harder for you to get out of your shell of self-protection.

Jungkook howled with laughter at the things you told him about your professor; either he found them genuinely amusing, or he was just laughing because the stories came out of your mouth.

“So, what will you do?” he asked once the laughter died down a bit.

You tilted your head innocently. “What do you mean?”

He looked at you with such tenderness, your innocent eyes captivating him.

“When we get married, will you keep your name, or will you take mine?” he posed the question so casually, yet so longingly.

You shrugged your shoulders elegantly, taking a small sip from your forgotten cola. “I will probably take yours.”

The words you said that Friday night made Jeon Jungkook the happiest man on planet Earth, and probably all the other planets in the universe.

_

“So, you little minx sat down and talked to Jungkook basically the entire fucking party, and you didn’t even get up once? You didn’t even complain about it!” Avery was almost lost for words; key word, almost.

“What’s the big deal? We talked, so what?” you shrugged it off.

“Everybody’s talking about it, you know. They think you might finally give the guy a chance,” Nora chimed in. “I always knew you would eventually cave; I mean, with those arms and that black card, I would’ve folded a long time ago. There’s a rumor he has a seven-inch dick, by the way.”

Just as you were about to say something, Sasha entered the living room, having just finished talking to Taehyung on the phone. “What are you girlies talking about?”

Avery answered, “Oh, just about Yn and Jungkook getting married and having six kids.”

You threw a pillow at her head in response, and Sasha smirked at the mention of her boyfriend’s buddy. “Yeah, I heard what happened. Tae told me Jungkook went crazy after talking to you, saying that this will be the year that he will claim you as his and that there’s not a single person that can take away the happiness that he’s experiencing at the moment. He literally can’t stop talking about you.”

You suppressed your smile successfully and shrugged your shoulders again. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal. I mean, you all left me lonely at that party, and he was the first familiar face I saw, sooo… I had nothing better to do.”

“God, you’re such an odd person. The guy wants you so bad, just give him a chance. You think it’s not noticeable that you are also kinda into him, but if you weren’t, you would’ve blocked that guy a long time ago, and you would’ve gone crazy on his ass with all the things he does to get your attention, but you don’t,” Tanya argued with a sly smirk on her face. “You may be mysterious to other people, but you can’t fool your best friends, who have been living with you for two years.”

Avery and Nora both agreed with Tanya’s words by nodding their heads crazily, and Sasha said a loud ‘true’ from the kitchen across the living room, where she was preparing five hot chocolates for you.

“I do go crazy; I always go crazy; I always tell him off. You all have personally experienced me going off on him for things he did and said,” you defended yourself the best you could, before taking the hot chocolate out of Sasha’s hands with a small ‘thank you, S.’

“Yeah, but it’s not really a ‘fuck off, I don’t ever wanna see you or hear you again’ type of ‘going off’; it’s more like a ‘ugh, Jungkook, I can’t believe you did this again. Please do it again’ type of thing,” Avery mocked with a high-pitched voice and fluttering eyelashes.

“Oh my God, I do not do that.”

“You kinda do, now that I think about it,” Sasha finally sat down. “I mean, I have seen you pick fights with men flirting with you before, and you are a completely different person with them versus with Jungkook.”

The others thought about what Sasha said, and it was almost like a collective epiphany. They all looked at you with the same look on their faces; almost an accusatory expression.

“You totally like him; oh my God! Yn likes Jungkook. It makes so much sense; I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Nora expressed with exciting energy.

You felt a rush of relief coming over you, almost as if you were carrying a secret that you wanted out. You had no idea if that feeling was a good sign or a bad one.

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, girls. I do not ‘totally like him’; I may be just starting—emphasis on just starting—to warm up to the idea of giving him a chance,” you revealed. “But Sasha, promise not to tell Taehyung about this, ‘cause if you do, Jungkook is gonna know by default, and I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“I won’t; I promise. This is just soooo exciting,” she spoke. “It’s just gonna be really hard to keep to myself, but I will try.”

“No, you won’t just try; you have to actually not say anything. You forget how indecisive I am; I could change my mind about this in an hour, so if you tell Taehyung, he will tell Jungkook, then Jungkook builds up hope and confronts me about what he heard, and I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, that was nothing; he’s just messing with you,’ and can you imagine how hurt his feelings would be? I really don’t need that on my conscience,” you explained thoroughly, your dramatics intact as they always were.

“Oh my God,” they all said in unison.

“What?”

“You care about his feelings!” Avery exclaimed, standing up dramatically. “You like him, like, like him. Admit it, admit it, please, please, please.”

“Shut up. I’m going to bed now. Buh-bye.” With that, you exited the living room, leaving your friends to talk about your situation for another hour before also going to bed.

“Remember when he got her a Cartier bracelet?”

___

“I will form six groups consisting of four students; each group discussing the topic I will be assigning them,” Professor Sullivan revealed.

“Ms. Ln, you will be grouped with Ms. Jones, Mr. Jeon, and Mr. Davis,” he spoke loudly. “You will be discussing Rousseau’s ‘The Confessions’ and prepare a presentation on identity and selfhood that is due next week, on Monday.”

You dreaded being in a group with Ben Davis, who had been nothing but a pain in your butt since you got to know him, but at least the assignment was the one that you wanted.

Jungkook, who sat next to you, smirked and nodded his head. “They couldn’t tear us apart if they tried, angel; this is meant to be.”

“Who are you even talking about? Who’s they?” Confused by his words, you asked.

“Just the world. You know how much these people hate real love,” he flashed you his trademark smile, making you push his arm playfully.

"Could you two stop flirting so we can start with the assignment?" the annoying voice of Ben whined, sitting across from you, with Lily Jones joining in the seat next to his.

“Alright, let’s dive in,” you started talking. “I personally think the most transfixing part of ‘The Confessions’ is how Rousseau emphasizes his intentions to be authentic. He exposes himself without shame or any sense of privacy, which for the time challenged societal norms completely.”

Lily nodded in agreement; Jungkook was busy staring at your lips as you articulated your opinion, smiling with his arm still around your shoulder. Ben, on the other hand, pulled a face you could only describe as disgusted. “Authenticity? The only authentic thing about Rousseau is that he is able to whine about his feelings like a pubescent girl. It feels almost like narcissism to me.”

"What a stupid take, Ben. With Rousseau writing this book, he laid the foundation for modern notions of individuality; the book challenges the reader to think about their own identity, their individuality," you explained your point further.

“I don’t need a stupid book like this to tell me about my identity or my individuality. It’s literally just a dude whining and rambling about his feelings and whatnot. No one wants to hear it,” Ben snapped.

Jungkook looked between you and Ben while you were arguing; seeing your agitated face when you hated someone made him realize you didn’t hate him at all. You even leaned closer into his arms.

“Well, I think we can use this as a talking point in our presentation,” Lily stated her idea. “How our perception of the book is similar to how we perceive ourselves; there are people like Yn, who confront and explore their feelings, thus creating a healthy relationship with the self, and there are people like Ben, who repress and ignore them, which makes for an angry person; which, by the way, is also an emotion.”

You and Lily giggled at her words, sending each other glances as to say, "God, I fucking hate that guy."

Jungkook decided to chime in. “That’s a good idea. We can use it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the self, to question it. If you are so opposed to Rousseau’s vulnerability, that’s a big indication of your own issues with vulnerability.”

You observed him as he spoke, astonished at his participation. You leaned in even more, to the point where your bodies touched as a way to show him you liked what he said.

“Oh, shut the hell up, man,” Ben shot back. “We all know you’re just here ‘cause of her; you don’t actually give a crap about all this.”

Jungkook simply smirked at him, already having figured out how easily provoked Ben was.

“He obviously cares more than you, ‘cause with that attitude, we are never gonna get a presentation done, much less start,” you defended Jungkook sassily, with a displeased expression sent Ben’s way, who just mumbled, “Yeah, go on, defend your boyfriend.”

“True,” Lily sighed. “By the way, where are we gonna prepare our presentation? The common rooms are always too loud, and all lecture halls are always occupied, and I don’t know about you guys, but my dorm isn’t exactly a mansion.”

You thought about Lily’s concern for a second, and the same resonated with you; your on-campus apartment wasn’t small, but you shared it with four very loud girls.

“We can do it at my place; I don’t mind,” Jungkook offered with a squeeze on your shoulder. “Then I finally have an excuse to invite my baby over.”

You looked up at him, meeting his mischievous eyes. For a moment, you shared intimate eye contact before Ben coughed to get your attention. “At your penthouse? Pff, no thanks. I’m sure a professor will let us use a room here.”

“You are not serious, Ben. Jungkook just offers us to go to his huge penthouse and you decline? I must say, I have never known such a dedicated hater; it’s almost admirable,” Lily admitted her admiration for Ben’s consistency.

“Why the fuck would we go there? It’s off campus, and it’s a penthouse; it’s so… distracting and unnecessary,” Ben debated, irritation written all over him.

“It’s a 15-minute walk and a five-minute drive, man; it’s not in Mexico,” Jungkook concurred, unable to find reason in Ben’s opposition.

“And what’s wrong with it being a penthouse? I personally would love to just hang out at a penthouse. It would make uni work a lot easier, actually,” Lily stated.

“I agree,” you shared, making Jungkook grin like an idiot at the image of you in his house. “And since this is a democracy, and we have one vote against three, we will meet at Jungkook’s penthouse next Sunday; of course, if that works for you, Jungkook."

“Works perfect!” he excitedly responded.

Ben was looking pissed as always; Lily was already thinking about all the pictures she was going to ask you to take of her in the penthouse for her Instagram, and Jungkook and you seemed to be in your own little world, gazing at each other.

“Thank you, Jungkook; that’s really nice of you,” you expressed with a smile, lifting your face to his to plant a short kiss on his cheek.

His heart raced at the unexpected movement; you had never done that before. He froze, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment while you gathered your belongings at the signal of class dismissal. One by one, the students gradually walked out, and you followed suit with Jungkook trailing behind you. He advanced in your direction, watching your hips sway.

“Yn!” he called after you, resulting in you turning around.

“Yes?”

“Go out with me tomorrow night at 7:00, just you and me,” he called out flirtatiously, gaining the attention of everybody around him, but only having his eyes on you.

You grinned mischievously at him before replying, “I don’t know about that… you’ll have to impress me first.”

To anyone else, it might sound like a rejection, but to Jungkook, it sparked a glimmer of hope that made his heart leap with resolve. Until now, it had only been ‘no’s and ‘no thank you’s. He was more confident than ever that he would capture the heart that had captured his.

___

“Yn, what did you do to Jungkook?” Sasha came back from a date night with Taehyung. “Tae told me he can’t stop smiling and is just sitting there, being cheesy as fuck.”

You were writing a sonnet for your poetry class as she barged into your room, looking stunning. “What made him think it’s about me? Let the man smile and be cheesy in peace.”

After Sasha looked at you with a look that said ‘you know damn well,’ you confessed, “He asked me out, and I—”

“You finally said yes??” she quickly interrupted with a dropped jaw.

“Nooo, I said maybe if he impresses me,” you continued. “Oh, and I also kissed him on the cheek.”

“You. Did. Not!” Sasha put a hand over her mouth, a loud gasp leaving it. “No wonder he is a smiling idiot; you broke him!”

“No, I didn’t ‘break’ him; I’m simply doing what I already said I am doing; I’m warming him up, giving him hope,” you explained, putting your pen down. “Because there is a very high chance that I will agree to go out with him soon. I just need that something.”

“That something?” Sasha repeated, confused.

“Yeah, that something; that one moment that makes me go yes, this is the man I want,” you further explained. “I have a good reason, two actually; I’m picky, indecisive, and also a virgin, so if I let him in and then, for some reason, regret it, I will be destroyed. And if I suddenly change my mind after giving him a chance, it will hurt Jungkook really badly, and I don’t want that.”

Sasha looked perplexed and deep in thought at your words, as if puzzling them together and making sense of them. “Oh wow, I never thought of it like that, but now, I totally get you.”

“Well, finally!” you smiled at her and giggled. “Anyway, what are you and Tae wearing to the Halloween party? Cause I was thinking…”

___

You and your girls took Halloween very seriously. You loved the dressing up, the makeup, and you always utilized the only day in the year where it was socially acceptable to be someone else entirely.

Of course, there were always at least six simultaneous Halloween parties going on on campus, and you had to choose between them, which was never a hard decision to make since Kappa Sigma always won. If they’re throwing a party, no other party stood a chance.

You decided to dress up as something cute yet sexy but very recognizable. Last year you came as Jane Eyre, and not a single person guessed your costume right. You decided to go with Chel from ‘The Road to El Dorado’; a white maxi skirt with two slits on the sides, a pink tube top, and statement jewelry with your hair down. It was low effort, yet very effective.

Nora went with Cher from Clueless, Avery of course was Shego, Tanya went creative and dressed as 2010 Justin Bieber, and Sasha and Taehyung were Morticia and Gomez Addams for the night, catching many envious stares.

After all the assignments, the essays, and the overall stress of uni the past few weeks, you hadn’t felt that alive and sexy in a while. Your maxi skirt was clinging to your full lower body seductively, and your tube top took on the very shape of your chest. You looked damn good, and you were ready to feel good too. Promising you wouldn’t drink too much, you took it slow.

Moving your hips seductively to the beat of a The Weeknd song while closing your eyes and tilting your head back, with Avery and Nora dancing together in front of you. Tanya was nowhere to be found, and Taehyung and Sasha were having their own dance party, grinding and kissing like there was no tomorrow. The dancing continued, and with it, the staring. You wished you could just dance at a party and have everybody mind their own business.

After a couple more rounds of dancing and drinking, you felt a firm hand gripping your hips. Turning around immediately, you pushed the guy away and looked at him, terrified. “What the fuck?? Get your filthy hands off of me!!”

Your friends stopped their dancing for a moment to see what was going on. They found Ben, dressed as Patrick Bateman, groping your hips like you were his property. “Just having fun, bird; don’t get all upset.”

Avery and Nora yelled at him, but it wasn’t effective. The scene caused such a huge stir that even Sasha and Taehyung got out of their trance, watching your fight with Ben.

“Yo, dude, get the fuck outta here, or I’ll call the cops on you,” Taehyung stepped in, pushing Ben completely out of the way. “What the fuck made you think you could do this, huh?”

As if he knew just when to step in, Jungkook in a cop uniform just arrived at the scene, asking what was happening.

A very drunk Ben slurred his words in an almost incoherent tone, facing Taehyung. “Look, man, she’s dressed like a slut. So I’m gonna treat her like a slut.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at Ben’s words, trying to make sense of the situation. He followed Ben’s eyes that were directly watching you, all of your friends and Taehyung just standing shocked, and the only thing between you and Ben was a protective Taehyung. Ben was talking about you.

Without putting any thought into his actions, Jungkook stepped in and punched the guy in his face, causing him to stumble down to the ground, where Jungkook kicked him in the face before crouching down and spitting on him. “What the fuck did you just say??! Did you touch her, huh? Did you fucking touch her? I swear, I’ll kill you; I’ll fucking kill you, man; this is your last day alive, ‘cause I’ll kill you.”

You had no idea what to do in this situation, so you just watched with a shrinking posture, similar to your friends who were all in shock at the scene of Ben lying on the ground, his blood pouring out while Jungkook continued to throw punches. At that point, the entire party stopped and just observed the scene.

"Jungkook, that’s enough. I’d love for you to kill him, but I don’t wanna see you in jail, bro," Taehyung calmly spoke, in order to ease the tension. Jungkook listened to him, standing up; a look that furious had never been on his face.

He turned to you, taking your hands in his, his face softening at the sight of you. “Everything okay, baby?”

You nodded weakly, semi-visible tears rolling down your cheeks. Your instincts told you to hug him, so you did. He immediately pulled you closer to him, his hand on your back and your chest against his as he soothingly rocked you back and forth. Everybody was watching you, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to relax,” he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd and into one of the bedrooms. “Want me to carry you?”

For the first time in those 30 minutes, you cracked a tiny smile, knowing that he was so very serious about carrying you in front of an entire party. “No, that’s fine; I can walk.”

Ignoring the intense eyes of the crowd, you two made your way upstairs.

Your eyes were still slightly watery with tears, and you were still holding onto Jungkook’s hand as you both sat down on the bed. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

He offered you an irresistible smile and brought you in tighter against his solid chest, allowing you to hear his every heartbeat clearly. “That’s my job, baby; no need to thank me.”

“You really didn’t have to do that; I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me, Kookie,” you spoke against his chest, with a soft, alluring voice, using his nickname to make him happy. “Ben really isn’t worth your anger at all.”

Jungkook took in your entire figure from above you with a gleam in his eyes. “Yn, I will do anything to protect you. I won’t ever allow anyone to harm you.”

You gently pulled away from his chest to meet his loving gaze. You never understood the books where the main character described a romantic encounter by saying ‘it felt like we were the only two people in the world’ until that moment. He leaned in closer, maintaining eye contact. You placed a delicate hand on his muscular arm—too gentle to stop him from getting closer, yet firm enough to prevent yourself from melting into him.

You were face to face with him now—breathing the same air. “You really mean that?”

“I couldn’t be more sincere,” he whispered, the warmth of his words meeting your full lips, his hands firmly placed on your soft, naked waist. “You know, we’ve never been this close before.”

“Yeah,” is all you managed to say, avoiding eye contact.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulled away, standing up, offering you his hand. “As much as I want to kiss you, I don’t think we should do that right now. You obviously drank tonight, and I want you to want to kiss me, and I want you to remember kissing me.”

You nodded and took his hand, not knowing what to say or do. As you stepped outside again, Jungkook’s broad shoulders became your view, him leading you downstairs again to take you home.

“Jungkook?” you said his name quietly, almost in a whisper.

He turned around, watching your shorter and smaller frame from above, looking absolutely tempting. “Yeah?”

“I’ll go out with you.”

___

The week after the Halloween party was exhausting; there were exams, essays, and seminars.

Besides the exams and usual uni duties, Jungkook was very enthusiastic about your first date. Being secretive about what he’d planned, getting your friends to ask you what you expected from a first date in an unsuspecting way, not wanting to annoy you so that you wouldn’t change your mind. It was very endearing.

You were also looking forward to the date, but you were much more subtle about it. Jungkook didn’t care about secrecy as much, telling every single person he knew that you agreed to go on a date with him; the news spread fast, and every student knew about your date.

Taehyung reported to Sasha that he jumped up and down, screaming and shouting out of the windows, “I DID IT! I FINALLY DID IT!” And later, when the pizza they ordered arrived, he tipped the delivery guy 300 bucks and told him, "The love of my life finally agreed to go out with me; I wish for you the same. I wish for every longing soul to experience the same happiness I am in right now, but I don’t think that’s possible because only she is capable of making a human feel this way. Goodbye and good luck, brother."

As for your shared class, he was insatiable. It was about the only time that week where you were able to see each other, and he had made good use of those three hours. In just three lectures, he got you a Swiss chocolate cake with a picture of himself printed on it because Avery informed him chocolate cake was your favorite. He got you a beige rose Lady Dior purse because it "goes well with your complexion," and a pink diamond ring, which he said was "nothing compared to the future engagement ring, of course." Before he signed up for your class, he gave you a gift once every two weeks, so this was a lot even for Jungkook. You told him it was all unnecessary, and he said, "No, this is very necessary; gotta spoil my future wife."

You were drowning in your assignments, your MacBook completely overheating when your name was called.

"Yn! There’s a package for you on the table," Tanya, one of your roommates informed.

You got out of your room confused; you couldn’t remember ordering anything in the last few weeks, and Jungkook usually liked to give you his gifts in person. “Are you sure it’s for me?”

Tanya playfully scoffed at you, reading what’s on the package again. “Is there another Yn here that I have yet to be introduced to?”

You scoffed back, taking the package into your room. Your impatient self couldn’t resist tearing it open to see what’s inside. A note, a small box, and a big white box with the words ‘Givenchy’ on it. Your breath hitched.

The note read: ‘Wear this to our date, gorgeous. Yours forever, JK.’

Almost scared to do so, you opened the white box, revealing a gorgeous, long blue silk dress. Then you opened the smaller box, which held a beautiful 24k gold necklace and matching earrings inside it. That idiot. You smiled to yourself, but quickly realized you shouldn’t.

You were a princess, and you deserved to be treated like one; he was just a rich enough man to comply.

You freed yourself from the clothes you were wearing. Carefully, you took the dress out of the box and put it on.

It fit like a glove, harmonizing with your every curve. The neckline was low, exposing the perfect amount of cleavage.

How did he know my size?

You put the dress back into the box neatly and pulled out your phone.

7:26

Yn: How do you know my size?

7:29

JK: I’m glad you got my little gift. Do you like it?

7:31

Yn: Yes, it is very nice; thank you. It was not necessary at all.

7:32

JK: I’m glad, baby; can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.

7:34

Yn: I’m really excited too.

7:36

JK: Promise you won’t be disappointed.

___

Whistles and girly screams were heard all over your apartment when you stepped out of your room, wearing the blue silk dress that clung to your wide hips and showcased your full chest perfectly; in soft glam makeup and your hair in an elegant updo, dazzled with the matching set of necklace and earrings, a pretty black purse in your hand. You looked the very image of beauty.

“Damn, girl!” Nora let out, impressed by your beauty.

“Does it look good?” you asked. You knew you looked beautiful, but you needed the extra assurance.

“Are you kidding me? You look ravishing, absolutely radiant; your body is just wow,” Avery complimented, observing you from head to toe. “Is that a new dress? It’s soo fucking gorgeous.”

“Yeah, it is; Jungkook actually sent it to me to wear today.” You felt your cheeks heating up at the knowing glances of your friends.

“Mmhmh, he’s a good man, Yn; a good man,” Sasha quoted a TikTok sound. “He’s so gonna freak when he sees you!”

“Is that what was in the package a few days ago? The guy’s got taste; gotta hand it to him,” Tanya chimed in. “When is he picking you up?”

You looked at the clock and answered, “Just in 3 minutes.”

About two seconds after you said that, a knock was heard from your front door.

“Ooooh, somebody’s eager,” Nora wiggled her eyebrows.

You walked to the front door, opening it after letting out an ‘I’ll get that.’

Before you stood Jungkook, wearing black tailored pants and a sophisticated white button-up shirt tucked into his pants, emphasizing his small waist and his muscular frame. In his hand, he held a big bouquet of pink and red roses.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you greeted him with a million-dollar smile.

He observed you with the biggest grin in the world, letting his eyes travel up and down your frame. “You are the most beautiful woman on Earth. Here, these are for you.”

He handed you the bouquet, which you took gracefully. “Thank you! They’re beautiful.”

Your friends freaked out, all attentively watching the interaction.

“Let’s go?” Jungkook said in a questioning tone. You nodded.

“No funny business, mister! We want her home by 11,” Avery screamed while you and Jungkook made your way out. Jungkook laughed, giving her a thumbs up.

“Yeah, you better not try anything with our girl; remember, we see all!” Sasha joined her, while Tanya and Nora made kissing and moaning noises, causing you to facepalm.

“Let’s just go, Jungkook,” you expressed in an embarrassed voice. “I’ll see you girls later!”

Once you were out, you looked at Jungkook apologetically. “I am so sorry; they’re literally so embarrassing sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook chuckled, taking your hand in his. “Let them have their fun; they’ve been waiting for this day as long as I have.”

You bit your lip as your eyes met his longing ones.

“Now, let’s go,” he started walking faster towards his car. “I got us reservations at Quince.”

Quince was an Italian restaurant that you only heard of but never entered; it was much too expensive for you to even consider. It was not like you were poor; it was just that Jungkook was wealthy.

You both made your way to the car together; he opened the door for you and then entered himself.

“This is a really nice car,” you stated, taking in the car with a wide-eyed look.

“Yeah?” He started the engine. “It’s a Mercedes-Benz Maybach Exelero.”

You simply nodded, still looking around amazed.

“You know, I’m beyond happy you finally agreed to go out with me,” Jungkook admitted, one hand on the wheel and the other hand finding your thick thighs. “I lost hope there for a while, you know?”

“Well, what can I say? I’m an incalculable girl,” you teased, putting a hand over his, linking your fingers. “You will never figure me out, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s dimple was visible as you gazed at him while he looked ahead.

“Remember when you told me you’re never going out with me? Well, now you are,” his voice reminisced. “So, I think I will figure you out, Yn.”

You decided to push his buttons a little. “Are you telling me you would wait over two years to figure me out? I didn’t peg you for a patient one.”

“I would wait a lifetime just to get a little piece of your heart and be able to call it mine, Yn,” he professed, his hands tightened, and his eyes gazed at you with yearning.

You didn’t know what to say.

_

The dinner at Quince was a dream come true; Jungkook rented out the entire restaurant for you, the view was breathtaking, every dish was a work of art, and the service treated you like royalty.

“So, do you like it here?” Jungkook asked you as you shared a slice of the best chocolate cake you had ever tasted.

“I love it!” you enthusiastically replied. “It is so beautiful here, Jungkook; honestly, thank you so much.”

The harpist was in the back, playing soft melodies that warmed your heart. You could not believe Jungkook planned all of this for you, and a sense of regret washed over you as you realized this was the man that you had been denying for two years.

“No need to thank me, baby; the important thing is that you’re with me,” he took a piece of cake with his fork and held it in front of your mouth, which you then ate, blushing. “I got something for you.”

Jungkook made a hand gesture, and as if on cue, a staff member came in, holding a framed picture in their hand, handing it to Jungkook.

He held it up for you to see; it was a star map, a very beautiful one. “This is the star map of the day we met—3rd of October, 2 years ago.”

Your eyes widened. “You remember the day we met?”

“Of course I do.”

“Jungkook, it’s so beautiful. I’ll hang it up on my wall,” you admired it while he admired you. “You’re really spoiling me.”

“Of course, baby, that’s my job,” he answered, taking your hand in his. “Now, let’s go; I have something planned for us.”

_

“Where are you taking me now?” you inquired; his secrecy wasn’t scaring you, but you were a naturally curious person.

“It’s a secret, baby. I promise you’ll love it,” Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, responsibly, and his veins ripped along his forearms, your eyes glued to the thickness of his arms.

“Ugh, fine, if you wanna be secretive about this, be secretive about it,” you feigned dramatic annoyance. “Just know that I’m hating every minute of it.”

“I think I can live with that since we’re just three minutes away,” he teased, his dimples evident.

“Three whole minutes of me hating it… you are a very cruel man, Jeon,” you shook your head, enjoying the breeze of the Californian air.

When you arrived in the parking lot of a bar, he pulled up saying, “We’re here!” before stepping out and jogging to your side, opening the door for you. You took his hand, letting him lead the way into the bar.

“A bar?” you asked in a suspicious voice. “Jungkook, a bar is not the place you take a lady…”

He knew you were joking and chuckled lightly.

“Just wait till we get in; you’ll love it,” his excitement was apparent, which confused you even more.

You stepped inside the bar, which was actually prettier than you imagined it would be; it had a calming feel about it. It didn’t look like a traditional bar; there was a stage set up and seats for an audience where about 30 people were already sat.

“Sit here,” Jungkook took your hand and brought you to a seat right in the front.

He made his way onto the stage, which led to you asking him, “What are you doing?” but he didn’t answer your question and just stood in front of the mic.

“So, uh, I wrote a poem a few weeks ago about the girl I love—a girl I have been trying to get with for two straight years and failed every time. I know how much she loves poetry,” Jungkook spoke to the crowd, his eyes gleaming with happiness. “And exactly a week and two days ago, she agreed to go out with me. Actually, this is part of our date; she’s sitting right there.”

He pointed at you proudly; the crowd cheered at the cute story he told and then observed you and cheered some more before letting him continue.

Jungkook looked self-assured, but there were little hints that showed you he was nervous to be standing in front of a crowd the way he was. “Yn, I know your writing is way superior to mine, but I hope you like this regardless. I’m gonna read it now.”

The crowd slightly giggled at his comment, but you could only focus on catching your breath and stopping your tears because you had never expected Jungkook to be as amazing as he was.

“In grand halls where soft echoes linger,

I spread petals, gold on gray floors.

Yet no amount of riches can sway you

To feel what’s in my heart, what I adore.

Two years have passed like silk through fingers,

Each moment woven with hopes and dreams.

But in your eyes, there’s a distant wonder;

You craft your path, and it’s not what it seems.

I’ve painted skies with vibrant colors,

Called stars to shine above you, glowing bright.

But love, I find, goes beyond gold and shine—

Sometimes a simple heart knows what feels right.

Yet here I stand in this space, laid bare,

With wealth at hand, but your laughter’s far away.

I’d give it all, just to share a moment—

To glimpse the dreams you cherish and replay.

Though riches fade like whispers in the dark,

My love, unyielding, still holds the spark.”

The crowd erupted into applause, gasps, and "awe's" and "Girl, marry him's" as Jungkook finished. You sat there, frozen in time and frozen in the words he dedicated to you; your heart beating faster than it should be, and singular tears rolling down your face.

Jungkook left the stage, eagerly approached you with the softest smile. “Did you like it?”

You couldn’t utter a word; you only stood in front of him, shook your head slightly in disbelief, and threw your arms around his neck tightly, jumping into his arms, hiding your face in his chest. You cried.

“Hey, why are you crying? Was the poem that bad?” he half-joked, running his hands over your hair soothingly.

As you finally parted from him, you glanced at his face, adoringly and implored, “Kiss me.”

And so he did. He kissed you hard like a soldier reunited with his loved one after many years; his hands were firmly on your waist, exploring other places of your body—in that moment, you were alone. In that moment, it was only Jungkook and you as you lost yourself in each other.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, lost in each other before staying at the bar for a while, listening to talented poets reciting their work.

___

“I can drive you back to the dorms, or you can—” Jungkook started.

“No, I think I wanna go back to your place,” you quickly interrupted. “Of course, if that’s okay with you.”

After leaving the bar, you entered his car, lips still swollen from all the kissing.

“Of course it’s okay with me; you said exactly what I hoped you’d say,” he smiled. “You know, the girls will probably beat me up tomorrow for not bringing you back.”

The drive to his penthouse wasn’t long at all; it was just enough to talk for a while and enjoy the evening view.

“Oh, absolutely not; they are totally secretly celebrating this because all they’ve been wanting me to do these past two years is give you a chance,” you admitted, also smiling. “Now that that happened, I can just tell you the complete truth; there is nobody more into this than them.”

“Damn, so even with a whole secret support system behind me, it took me two years?” He tsked, finding amusement in the admission. “That’s embarrassing for me.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and tilted your head; he was focusing on the road, but glanced at you as much as he could. “If you were anybody else, it would’ve taken you five more.”

He leaned in to steal a quick kiss; the prideful expression on his face was clear to see. “That’s really good to know.”

You drove around for the next 10 minutes; finally, you arrived at his luxurious penthouse, which was adorned with a huge terrace and a chic entrance that you rushed to hand in hand.

You had already been to his penthouse for the project, yet its beauty didn’t fail to impress you once again; being in this position made it look even more magical.

As soon as you stepped inside, Jungkook grabbed your waist and gently held you, with his lips finding yours again. You stumbled into the spacious yet warm living room. As your lips still moved in sync and passionately, your hands roamed his body, exploring every muscle, every inch. Your gasps intertwined with his heavy breathing, your chest against his. He guided you to the couch and sat down, without breaking the kiss, and with firm, strong hands on your hips, he seated you on his lap.

Your heated core met his clothed, hard dick in sensual movements, the grinding gradually getting quicker and more effective. You felt his hardness press against your covered pussy, leading to feelings unknown to you. Your dress crept up higher with every movement of your generous hips, his hands now on your ass, kneading it while moaning into your mouth.

“Fuck, Yn, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathed, breaking the kiss for just a second before going back immediately, earning an agreeing moan from you.

His hands wandered over your entire body, holding your slightly pudgy stomach and traveling up to your full breasts. You couldn’t contain your moans from coming out, your lips moving against his as if they were made for them.

But there was something on your mind that you still had not mentioned to Jungkook.

“Wait, Jungkook—” you interrupted your session with a breathless voice. “I—I have to tell you something.”

He was confused, his face slightly flushed with hazy eyes and parted lips. “Yeah, anything, baby.”

“I’m—I’m a... virgin,” you almost whispered, still sat on his lap, lowering your head so you wouldn’t have to face him. “But I wanna do this.”

His grip on your hips loosened for a second before he firmly grabbed you again. “Oh.”

Your heart sank a little, not knowing what to make of his response.

Just a few seconds later, he continued, “We can take everything slow, baby; we don’t need to rush into anything; we’ll do everything at your pace.”

You nodded, raising your head again to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Kookie.”

“Of course,” he kissed you gently.

“Okay, we can go back to making out now; I just have a tiny problem,” you noted, easing the tension caused by your revelation. “I don’t have anything to wear, and I can’t stay in this dress the whole night.”

Jungkook chuckled and slowly stood up. “Wait here; I’ll get you a t-shirt.”

The few minutes it took him to get you a shirt gave you a chance to take in your luxurious surroundings; the lavish, over-the-top kitchen facing the living room brought a smile to your face, knowing that Jungkook in no way cooked or had any culinary skills whatsoever.

“Here, wear this,” Jungkook came back with a black shirt in his hands. “Next time, we’ll be prepared. Gotta make sure you have your own closet here.”

Your heart beamed at his display of commitment, knowing he was serious about everything he said.

You took the shirt, turning your back to him. “Can you help me zip the dress down? I can’t reach it.”

He obliged happily, zipping the dress’ zip down, his hands lightly brushing over your uncovered back, his lips pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. You turned around, letting the dress fall down, exposing you in just a lacy black lingerie set that left little to the imagination.

His gaze traveled over your entire figure, lips grazing his teeth with a spark in his eyes that conveyed a thousand unspoken thoughts.

“Damn,” he uttered after you put on the shirt, which barely reached your thighs. “Can’t believe you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

With newfound confidence, you pushed his chest, resulting in him ending up on the couch once again, and sat down on his lap with an alluring smile.

“I wanna finish what we started now,” you purred against his lips, guiding his hands to your waist. The rhythm of your seductive hips brought his breath to a halt, guttural "fuck's" escaping him.

You quickly stripped away his shirt, revealing his muscular arms and defined abs—all for you to run your hands over and admire, his dick noticeably growing. In response, Jungkook took off your—or his—shirt, leaving you in just a lacy bra, your tits practically spilling out of it; a sight he adored more than anything.

“Shit... please, let me take off the bra,” Jungkook desperately implored, to which you just as desperately nodded. “Just wanna see you like that.”

His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra before completely unfastening it, exposing your big tits and hard nipples. You were surprised at your lack of shyness, feeling completely free and comfortable, exposed in front of Jungkook like that.

“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your bare breasts before leaning in, gently taking one into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You pushed your head back from the overwhelming pleasure, one of your tits getting sucked and the other one getting kneaded, while you desperately chased the friction, your thinly clothed pussy rubbing against his dick. It was an erotic experience; Jungkook was introducing you to a new world.

“Baby, if you keep moving like that, I’m gonna cum in my boxers,” he hissed, his strong arms stopping your movements momentarily.

You were both in a state of haziness; desperation was strongly felt in the air. Your pussy was sticky and slick, aching for more.

“Then fuck me, Jungkook,” you whispered urgently, his breath stopping for a second.

“Are you sure about this, Yn?” he sincerely asked, locking eyes with you to look for a speck of uncertainty; he didn’t find it.

“Yes, I’m so sure,” you answered him steadily. “All I want is for you to fuck me.”

With that, Jungkook didn’t waste any time. He stood up, still grabbing your hips firmly while your legs were wrapped around his waist, and carried you toward the elevator, your bare chest pressing against his and your head lazily resting on his broad shoulders. Finally, he carried you to his bedroom, gently throwing you onto the bed.

He looked at you from above, lips caught between his teeth. He hastily put his hands on you, wanting nothing more than to take off your lace panties, the only thing holding him back from seeing you completely bare. So, he did, slipping your panties down your legs until they’re completely off.

His fingers traced your now bare pussy, lightly teasing it, eliciting a gasp from you. “That’s the prettiest, wettest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

You blushed, not knowing what to say.

Slowly, Jungkook’s hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, taking them off entirely. His thick, long dick was freed, settling on his lower belly. The pre-cum shimmered on it, ready to enter you at any moment.

Your breath hitched, taking it all in for a second; your eyes widened at the powerful sight before you. He stood above you, symbolizing dominance, while you were naked, sitting on the bed, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“Can I just…” you leaned forward, facing his pretty dick, giving it a lick.

“Fuck, Yn, yes please,” he stepped forward a bit to give you easier access. “You ever done this before?”

You shook your head, maintaining eye contact. His eyes darkened, turned on by your innocence. Strong hands found your hair, guiding you closer to him.

You gave him more licks and kisses, swirling your tongue around it and kissing every inch of it before finally taking it into your mouth entirely. He was big, so you struggled a little to breathe properly, but you wanted to keep going for him.

“Shit, baby, you’re doing so good,” he groaned as your hands started working him while your full lips were wrapped around him, sucking him. “Just like that.”

Bobbing your head up and down, you slightly gagged around him, but your hand on his hip signaled him to thrust into your mouth further, which he gladly did. The huge bedroom echoed with his shameless groans and praises.

He smelled clean and tasted salty, sort of musky; it was comfortable having him in your mouth. You continued to explore his dick, recalling all the blowjob wisdom given to you by your friends and the internet, and implementing it.

“Baby, I’m close,” Jungkook’s words were barely a whimper, sending more arousal to your slick pussy.

His words elicited desperation in you, desiring nothing more than to give him pleasure. You bobbed your head harder, his groans getting louder and his thrusts quicker. His hands tightened around your hair; it was obvious he was losing control, chasing his high.

The heat was building, Jungkook’s voice getting louder, and a few seconds later, a warm, salty liquid filled your mouth, which you instinctively swallowed. You released his dick from your grip and looked up at him.

His head was tilted back, eyes closed and breathing heavily before he finally looked down at you, leaning in and giving you a kiss. He put his boxers on again.

“You did so great, baby,” he praised, now sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m glad I’m your first... and last.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’m glad too.”

You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes; he soothingly whispered sweet nothings into your ear. With determination, you started grinding against him again; this time, your bare pussy against him. A rush of blood was sent to his dick, slowly getting erect again.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” Both of his hands were positioned on your moving hips, furthering the friction between you.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” you admitted in a sultry whisper, licking his upper lip playfully.

“Yeah?” His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips.

“Hmmm, yeah,” you tilted your head flirtatiously, giving in to another kiss. “So, are you gonna fuck me today or not?”

Jungkook chuckled, clearly amused by your directness. “Baby, I just want to be sure you’re 100% sure about this.”

“I am sure!” you spoke with a tinge of urgency. “Can’t you feel my wetness? I need you, Kookie; I need you to be inside of me.”

The contrast of your words and the usage of his silly nickname made Jungkook’s heart race. He felt the urge to take you right then and there.

With a quick shift, he stood up, grabbed a soft towel and put it on the bed, and gently pushed you so you lay on the bed, ready for him to enter. He towered over you, fingers finding your wet pussy again, playing with it. After removing his boxers again, he fisted himself, the sticky sound of pre-cum finding you; you enjoyed the view more than you would admit. He opened a pack of condoms and took one out, wrapping it around his big dick.

“You sure you’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, I’m sure,” your bratty attitude started to show.

Jungkook came closer, parting your legs slightly, taking in the sight of your pussy, glistening for him. As he approached your entrance, he maintained eye contact. “This is gonna hurt a little at first, baby, but tell me as soon as it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes filled with anticipation and nervousness. “Okay.”

He held onto you gently and slowly entered your wetness, eliciting a loud gasp from you. As he entered further, you grabbed onto him tighter, burying your head in his shoulder and clawing his back with your nails. “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking tight.”

“Does it hurt, baby?” he gently asked through heavy breaths, his thrusts continuing to be soft. You nodded. “It’s okay; just a moment and it’ll feel good.”

And he was right; just a couple of seconds into more soft thrusts, the pain transformed into satisfying pleasure that quickly took over, your gasps turning into soft moans.

“Jungkook… fuck me harder,” you begged, pushing him down and closer to you; your bodies sticking together even closer than before. “Please.”

Gradually, his thrusts became harsher, lips moving from your neck to your tits that were begging for his attention and his big hands that gripped your ass. Your desperate grip on his back firmed as you clenched around his dick, causing his breath to hitch. He deepened his thrusts, hitting your walls sensually, introducing you to a pleasure you never knew you could feel.

“Shit, you feel so good around me,” his deep, grunting voice hugged you. “Gonna fuck you stupid; nobody else can touch you like that.”

His ongoing rambling about how good you felt, how beautiful you were, and how long he had waited for this made you feel like you were the most cherished woman on Earth. You couldn’t believe that this was happening. If someone had told you two years ago that you would be in Jungkook’s penthouse, his dick ramming into you deliciously; you would laugh in their face. But here you were.

To add an element of surprise, you suddenly changed the position, turning the both of you around and pushing him down to the bed, taking control as you rode him up and down. A cocky smirk formed on his annoyingly pretty face, looking up at you in admiration.

“You learn quick,” he praised in a grunt, putting his head between your bouncing tits.

You were too lost in pleasure to respond, your ass clapping against his balls and your hands were all over his broad upper body, savoring every inch of him. Your head tilted back in bliss as his dick slipped in and out of your wet, tight pussy; a sight that Jungkook enjoyed very much.

“Baby, I’m close, shit… I’m so fucking close,” he informed with a breathy voice, bitten lips, and hazy eyes, dick thrusting up more desperately than before.

Your walls tightened more around his throbbing dick, indicating to him that you were also close. “Yeah? Me too, baby.”

After a minute of passionate thrusting and bouncing, Jungkook’s body suddenly tensed, reaching the edge. He released a warm flood of cum with a loud “fuck” coming out of his mouth.

With a grind of your hips, a moment later, you also reached a pinnacle, your breath hitching and your eyes closed. You got off of Jungkook and laid next to him on the bed, both of you still trying to come down from the high you experienced.

He slowly stood up, grabbed the bloodstained towel he laid under you to put it in the washing basket, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. “You did so good, you know that?”

You simply smiled sheepishly, also getting up to clean yourself and pee. When you came back from Jungkook’s extravagant bathroom, he was lying on the bed now wearing boxers with an eager smile. “Come here.”

You obliged with swaying hips, your naked figure waltzing over to his king-size bed, laying your head on his chest. “Today was amazing, Jungkook. Thank you for everything.”

He held your hand in his, kissing your head gently. “Baby, that was nothing; I wanna thank you for everything. It’s really special to me, what you did.”

“It was easy, being with you and all,” you admitted in a soft voice. “You know, I feel surprisingly very comfortable with you, Jungkook; it’s weird.”

That made him chuckle; his chest left a vibration. “I think I’m gonna take that as a compliment…?”

“You should.”

“I don’t think this needs to be said, but I hope you know this means we’re together now,” Jungkook started, now looking deeply into your eyes from above. “Like an item, a thing, boyfriend and girlfriend, soon to be wed, a coup—”

You stopped him with a giggle, laying a loving hand on his chest. “I get it, Jungkook, and I know.”

“Good.” He tightened his grip on your shoulder, smirking as he looked down at your naked body. “Next time, I wanna cum inside; so you better get started with birth control.”

“Jungkook!!”

——-

i hope whoever reads this enjoyed it🫶🏽🫶🏽 btw the poem is completely AI generated😭 i really wanna make this sort of a series like write a bunch of different scenarios for this couple; pls tell me your opinion on that.

[juletheghoul]

educational

a/n: I still have so many asks for this man, and I have not forgotten them! Thank you to everyone who voted, to everyone who takes the time to comment and reblog on my posts. You have no idea how you all have reinvigorated my love for writing, a million hugs and cuddles for all of you. I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! This isn't beta'd, barely proofread. Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

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The sun was oppressive. It beat down with a vengeance and the fan in your hand did nothing to alleviate the waves of heat permeating the market. You had half a mind to head right back to the villa, to ask Marcus to bring you on another day when you could focus on anything other than the drops of sweat sliding down your spine, making your new robes stick to your skin. Or the way the stiff leather sandals on your feet rubbed your ankles raw. 

Running back to the villa didn’t seem right however, it tasted too much of defeat, of a refusal to accept your new place in this world and the thought of your General, your husband being disappointed in your inability to shop for yourself put eels into your belly. Gritting your teeth, you continued your hunt for the things you needed. 

“What about this Domina?” Your new attendant, a girl a few years younger than you had been when you’d first joined his house pointed at a blessedly covered stall, golden trinkets glittering where the sun poked through gaps in the covering catching your eye. 

“Let us look.” You smiled, making your way over. There you found a lovely perfumed oil for your skin, at a fairly reasonable price. You also found some of the incense Marcus liked, and a new brush for his hair. You bought them, even though he had sent you with the intent to buy things for yourself. With your purchases made and in the hands of your guards you decided to finally return home, when another stall caught your eye. Gauzy sheer linens covered most of it but when the warm breeze blew them aside, glittering jewels flashed. 

The woman running the stall smiled when you entered, she had streaks of grey in her hair, lovely oiled skin and eyes as dark as night. 

Opals with fire caught inside them hung on golden racks, rubies the size of walnuts, emeralds as green as fresh laurel leaves glittered, all of them entrancing you enough to pull your hands out to touch them. 

“With your skin, those would look lovely.” She walked over, pulling dark blue sapphire earrings from their place on her wall and holding them to your ears. “Beautiful.”

“They are gorgeous, I must admit.” Marcus had told you to buy whatever you wanted, had given you enough coin to splurge but you hesitated. Your eyes fell to a small book on a shelf, a picture of a man and a woman on the cover. 

“That is… very educational. Especially for a married woman.” She pulled the book off the shelf, placing it into your hands for you to peruse. The contents made you gasp. It was a guide book, a guide for the art of love. The art of copulation. There were diagrams, positions to try, all manner of things you’d never even thought of. 

Heat rushed to your face, the thought of showing Marcus, of trying them with him made the heat grow and spread to the place between your thighs. 

“You must have it, I have no doubt your husband will enjoy it, you as well.” She winked and you laughed a nervous little laugh, nodding conspiratorially. 

“You should adorn yourself for him, something glittering, something precious.” She gestured to the jewels once more and you bit your lip, wondering what to choose until you saw what looked to be a belt of different coloured gems. 

“I like this–is it for my waist?” You slid your fingers across it. 

“That would be perfect, not just your waist my lady.” She undid the clasps and arranged it, draping it onto your body. “Usually the ladies wear them over a simple robe to elevate it, but I think it would look just as beautiful against the skin, if you take my meaning.” You could see it, the top part of it like a necklace, with a long line of gems between your breasts leading down to connect with another line of it like a belt. 

With an ache for him, and a considerably lighter purse, you left with your purchases and made your way home once more. 

-

He was occupied, held up in his study with representatives from the Emperor, a senator and a whole host of others taking up his time with important matters. You left him to it, and busied yourself with your own preparations.

The tub was steaming and fragrant when you submerged yourself. Dried flowers and sweet smelling oils swirling with every movement, all manner of different elements coming together to soften your skin and make you shine for him. Thoughts of what he would think of your book fill your mind as you cleanse yourself of the day, musings about what he might choose pull at the corners of your lips as you run the clean washcloth across the expanse of your chest and thighs.

You oil your skin once out of the tub, arrange your hair and adorn yourself with jewels. Golden bracelets and anklets he’d gifted you on your wedding night, an armband shaped like a snake, earrings that dangle and trap the light when you move, the special body chain from the stand. You feel like a goddess, like a priestess readying yourself for worship. 

By the time he comes to bed the need, the arousal is fierce enough to make your hands shake. 

“Apologies my love, I was hoping to have been done sooner but—“ he catches sight of you then, sprawled out on the bed, an airy robe leaving nothing to the imagination, the small book in your hands. His eyes devour you, robbing him of his words, making your heart race.

“I have something for you, something for us.” You rise, exaggerating the swing in your hips with every step you take towards him. Your adornments jingle, a pleasant sound rings with every stride. 

“Do you now?” He licks his lips, and presses his palm to his growing bulge at the sight of you. “I have something for you too, growing stiff and aching.” His hand reaches for you as you get closer, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I do not doubt that.” You laugh, pressing your palms to his chest to keep him from pushing you onto your bed.

“I would very much like to give it to you, nice and deep.” His eyes are so lust blown that the warm brown is now a cold black. A moan escapes at his words, at the feel of his kiss on your throat.

“First, I would like you to look through the book I bought today.” He frowns, confused at the apparent shift. “I believe it could be very educational for us.”

If you weren’t so aroused, so excited to experiment you might have laughed at his expression. Naked shock was all you could see on his face. Never, in all your years within the villa, within his presence had you ever rendered him speechless before. The effect is titillating.

Wordlessly he peruses the pages, cheeks flushing, attention rapt at the diagrams and instructions shown within.

“Gods above.” Your smile deepens at the low whisper of his voice, nerves fraying with anticipation. 

“I am particularly curious about this one.” With trembling hands, you flip the pages to a certain diagram, where the woman is sitting on the man's lap but facing away, her legs closed tightly between his legs underneath her. The thought of Marcus having you that way floods your body with heat. His mouth at your ear, his hands free to slip between your legs or hold onto the weight of your breasts. 

Silently he studies the book, eyes intent. His quiet intensity fills the air between you, it makes you wring your hands with nervous anticipation, almost makes you wonder if you’ve gone too far. Your nerves fray the longer he stares, the old fear of disappointing or upsetting him creeps up your spine, until he smiles and licks his lip. 

“You, my love, continue to surprise me.” He closes the book and sets it aside. 

“Do I?” You take his hand in yours, and press it to your lips, desperate for his approval and for his love.

“Oh yes. Just when I think I cannot be any more fortunate, you spoil me and show me another facet of your love.” He pulls you forward, guiding you to stand between his spread legs at the edge of your bed, pulling the robe off to expose your nakedness.

“Look at you.” His palms slide from the sides of your thighs past your hips where they touch the jewels that adorn your waist. Up, up, up until his thumbs flick at your nipples. 

“You are yourself, my most precious jewel. So beautiful–” He presses his face to your breast, his lips gliding across your skin between words, “-kind, adventurous and brave, sweet as summer fruit,” he skims his nose over the top of your breast before licking at the stiff peak. With a sigh you hold him close, fingernails scratching at his neck, slipping through the fine grey waves, cradling his head close. 

Your heart races as he pours his love onto you, any and all fears are quieted to nothing under the silky slip of his palms against your back. His mouth forms a tight seal around your nipple, enough that it makes you gasp. His smile is predatory, confident and it makes you laugh; half nervous, half exhilarated. 

Your breasts shine with the oil, and his spit when he lets go. You take the opportunity to pull his robes up and off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his manhood, hard and leaking for you. 

“Turn around.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, deep and commanding, irrefutable. His lips press to your shoulder, moving down to your lower back, you squeal in shock and delight to feel his teeth on the meat of your ass. 

“I could devour you whole, do you know that?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

The arousal is enough to choke you, enough to ease the glide of himself against your sex. Butterflies swarm as he pulls you back, guiding his own weeping tip to the tight fist of your cunt until you sink, slowly onto him. You gasp at just how deep, just how full you feel like this. 

“Gods above, woman.” His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, his voice strangled in your ear.

It is so much better than you had imagined.

His thighs bracket yours as you adjust to the fullness, slick dribbles out of you and drenches his lap when his hands do exactly as you hoped they might. With deft fingers he pinches and pulls at your sensitive nipples, teasing the peaks mercilessly as you begin a tentative bounce on his lap.

“Is this how you wanted it?” His breath tickles your neck, painting your skin in gooseflesh. 

“Yes, yes Marcus, just like this-“ your head falls back onto his shoulder, the arousal so fierce it burns through you, sets your heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird, trapped in the cage of your ribs. 

“Take it, take your pleasure from me my love, ride this cock—“ he bucks up, pulling a pained moan from somewhere inside you. 

“That’s it, you can do it, milk my fucking cock.” His arm tightens around your middle and you can feel the jewels pinching at your skin, the edge of pain only heightens the pleasure coursing through your veins, ripping a swathe through your body in the shape of him, always him. 

Thick fingers force their way between the tight press of your thighs, pinching at your swollen clit and it’s almost too much. Sweat beads in your hairline, slips between your bodies as you roll your hips harder, clenching around him with every tight bounce. 

There are no more words, only the harsh pant of his breath in your ear, the slick, vulgar sound of your wet arousal; the whimpering heralding your climax. 

His fingers leave your clit and you whine, the demand for them to return on the tip of your tongue but he quells it, pressing those same fingers into your mouth. He takes the saliva from your mouth, and returns his fingers to their task. The slip is just right and with a silent scream you freeze, squeezing him tight enough for him to hiss, tight enough to do just as he wanted and milk him for all he’s worth.

His grip around your middle softens, the jewels have left indents in his skin as well as yours, you pull his arm up to press your lips to it. 

Once the blood has settled and you’ve caught your breath, you pull away from him, turning to settle in his lap again only this time facing him. 

His expression is pure bliss, flushed with exertion and smiling with the ghost of his climax still painting his features. 

“I must send you to the market more often, spoil you as you spoil me.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his wrap tightly around your waist.

“So you are pleased with my purchase then?” Your lips press to his mouth, his cheek, the little hairless spot on his chin, your favourite constellation to map out. 

“I am more than pleased with it, but I must study it in depth. So many things to try, so many lessons for us to learn from this book, hmm?” He skims his nose across the column of your throat, smiling into your skin as your heart races for him even with your pleasure still coursing through you. 

“…And you know that I am a quick learner, my love.”

-

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[kinkyniragi]

Truth or Dare

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader Genre: Smut 18+ Word count: 3,6k Summary: You're at one of Tommy's legendary parties with his sister Ada. A little drunk and caught up in the thrill of the night, you let her talk you into a game of Truth or Dare. You confess that your secret fantasy is to be fucked dumb by her brother. Too bad you didn’t realize he was listening the whole time… CN: Dirty talk, vaginal and oral penetration, rough sex, domination/power imbalance, dubious consent. Please note that this is all just fantasy. Things that happen in my stories should always be consensual. Take care. Author’s note: I asked you, you voted for this. Now live with it LOL

***

Masterlist

Cheerful music, played by a live band, thrums through Arrow House, loud and bass-heavy, making the walls vibrate with each pulsing beat. The air is warm, charged with laughter, smoke  and the scent of expensive whiskey. People dance exuberantly, bodies pressed close, heads tipped back in carefree abandon. Fragments of lighthearted conversations reach your ears. It’s a hell of a party—one only Tommy Shelby could throw.

You and Ada have been friends since school—years of shared secrets, bad decisions, and late-night confessions binding you together in a way that never really faded. She’s always been the wild one, the kind of girl who drags you into trouble with a wicked grin and a promise that it’ll be worth it. And, more often than not, it is.

You’ve heard plenty about Tommy over the years. His name comes up in stories about dangerous deals and legendary parties, whispered like a warning and an invitation all at once. But until tonight, you’d never been part of it. Never seen the infamous Arrow House in all its debauched glory.

And Tommy himself? You’ve only ever known him in passing—glimpses at Ada’s family gatherings, half-formed impressions from the way people talk about him, fleeting small talk. He’s always been a mystery to you, a presence looming just outside your world. You never knew exactly what to make of him, but his mysterious, attractive appearance always turned you on.

But now, standing in the middle of his party, surrounded by drunken lightness and swirling smoke, you wonder if you’re about to find out more.

Somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, you and Ada are twirling, flushed with drink and mischief, your fingers laced briefly before you spin apart again. You giggle excitedly as your dance speeds up, making you dizzy.

After what feels like hours of dancing and shameless flirting with every attractive stranger in arm’s reach, Ada suddenly grabs your wrist, tugging you toward a quieter corner.

"Stay put," she grins, disappearing only to return moments later with two more drinks. She hands you one and lifts her own in a mock toast. "To bad decisions."

You clink glasses and drink deep.

"We should play a game," Ada announces suddenly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Her lips shine with whiskey. Gosh, Ada and her so-called games. You know what is about to come up.

"Truth or Dare."

You laugh, but there’s a challenge in her eyes. "Alright. You go first."

It starts off harmless—favorite childhood memory, worst kiss, a dare to take a shot without using your hands. But then—you chose “Truth” again—Ada tilts her head, eyes sparkling with curiosity, and asks, "What’s your dirtiest desire?"

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the way the room spins just slightly, making everything feel deliciously unreal. Or maybe it’s the way Ada leans in, close enough that her perfume mixes with the smoke and spirits in the air. You've simply known each other for too long and have talked too often about your experiences with men. Whatever it is, the words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

"There is a certain person…I can’t get out of my head. I wanna be…be fucked dumb by him. No control, no mercy—just taken, used, ruined until there’s nothing left in my head but the way it feels."

Ada’s eyes widen before she bursts into delighted laughter. "You little slut," she teases. "Tell me more."

Heat creeps up your neck, but there’s no taking it back now. You lick your lips, voice dropping. "Just filthy words and rough hands until I forget my own name, until all I can do is moan and beg for more."

Ada hums, sipping her drink as if she’s considering something very important. "And who, exactly, do you want to do that to you?"

You shake your head quickly, smirking. "That’s the next question. Your turn first."

Your heart is hammering, but you keep your expression playful. If you drag this out long enough, maybe she’ll get distracted, maybe someone else will butt in, maybe—hell, maybe the house will catch fire and save you from this mess. Anything to avoid saying his name out loud.

Because once it’s out there, you can’t take it back.

What if she gets weird about it? What if she’s offended? Ada is bold and reckless, but this is her brother. There’s a fine line between teasing and crossing into something uncomfortable, and you have no idea which side she’ll land on.

You force yourself to take a slow sip of your drink, feigning nonchalance. Just play it cool. Don’t let her see you sweat.

Ada narrows her eyes at you, sensing the deflection, but she lets it slide—for now. She swirls the last of her drink, considering.

"Alright, my turn," she muses. "Hit me."

You think for a moment, then grin. "Truth or dare?"

Ada stretches her legs out dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. "Hmm. I do love a good dare."

You smirk. "Then I dare you to go up to—" You scan the party, searching for the most ridiculous target. "—that guy over there in the red suspenders, grab his ass, and tell him he’s the love of your life."

Ada barks out a laugh, shaking her head. "Nope, too easy." She leans in conspiratorially, eyes gleaming. "I’ll take ‘Truth.’"

You raise an eyebrow, surprised. "Oh? Feeling sentimental?"

She winks. "Just feeling nosy. Go on, ask me something juicy."

You drum your fingers against your glass, pretending to think, though you already know exactly what you want to ask. “Alright, Ada,” you say slowly, drawing out the suspense. “Since we’re already on the topic—who’s the best fuck you’ve ever had?”

Ada throws her head back with a cackle, clearly unbothered by the question. “Oh, babe, you’re going to have to be more specific than that.” She grins wickedly. “Best in what way?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. The one you still think about when you’re alone.”

Ada hums, pretending to be deep in thought. Then she leans in, lowering her voice just enough to make you do the same. “Alright,” she whispers, eyes gleaming. “There was this one time, in a car—”

What follows is a shamelessly detailed story that has you laughing and cringing in equal measure. Ada tells it with the kind of confidence only she can pull off, completely unapologetic, feeding off your reactions. By the time she’s done, your face is warm from both the alcohol and the secondhand embarrassment.

“Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or horrified.”

Ada smirks. “Little bit of both, I hope.”

She leans back, looking way too pleased with herself. “Alright, your turn again. Truth or dare?”

You hesitate. She can sense it. You could pick "Dare" again, but Ada is relentless—if you try to avoid the question, she’ll only come up with something even worse. Something you’d never, ever do.

"I swear, if you don’t pick ‘Truth’ right now, I’m making you streak through this party wearing nothing but a bow."

Your stomach drops.

"Truth," you blurt out, before she can make good on that threat.

Ada grins triumphantly. "Good girl!" Ada’s grin turns downright devious as she places a hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Alright, babe. Spill. Who’s the mystery man?”

And the alcohol has loosened your tongue enough that it almost feels like a game.

So you lean in and whisper, "Tommy."

Ada freezes. Then she snorts so loudly that a few heads turn. Covering her mouth, she shakes with laughter, eyes dancing with amusement. "You dirty little thing," she wheezes, wiping at her eyes. "My brother? Really?"

You groan, smacking her arm, but she just keeps giggling. The moment is too ridiculous not to laugh along, and before long, you’re both breathless with mirth, stumbling back toward the music.

You lose yourself in the rhythm again, Ada’s fingers briefly twining with yours before she’s pulled into another dance. Then, suddenly, a shadow looms in the periphery.

Tommy.

He steps in smoothly, effortlessly claiming your space as if it’s always been his to take. One hand settles low on your waist, the other taking your fingers, guiding you into the sway of the music.

Then, his lips brush against your ear.

"So," he murmurs, "you wanna be fucked dumb, eh?"

The seconds in which you cannot answer seem like an eternity.

“By me.” His tone makes it clear that it’s less of a question and more of a cold statement—one that is becoming increasingly impossible to deny.

Blood rushes hot beneath your skin. You go stiff, but Tommy’s grip is firm, keeping you flush against him. You know you should say something, laugh it off, anything—but the words have turned to ash on your tongue.

Tommy chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "Cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head, but it only makes him press closer.

"Makes you wet, doesn’t it?" His voice is barely audible over the music, but it slides down your spine like a caress. "Dancing like this. Feeling me against you. Bet you’ve thought about it before. Wondered how I look naked. How my cock feels. How I fuck."

A shiver rolls through you. Your nails dig into his shoulder.

"Tell me I’m wrong."

You can’t.

Tommy makes a satisfied sound, his fingers tightening just slightly on your hip. Then he leans in again, his lips brushing your temple, as he continues to lead the dance skillfully. "How about we continue our little…dance…in a darker place?"

Your breath is shallow, your pulse wild, but you don’t protest when he takes your hand and leads you off the dance floor. Ada catches your eye as you pass, grinning like the devil himself, raising her glass in silent approval.

You barely register the walk through the house before you’re inside his office, the heavy door clicking shut behind you. Tommy discreetly turns the key in the lock.

He turns to you, expression unreadable.

"Now," he says, as if it were a serious matter, "why don’t you explain to me exactly what you mean by ‘fucked dumb’?"

Your mouth falls open, but you feel incapable of answering. Even though you're noticeably drunk, the shame of your vulgar language hits you full force. If only you'd held back...or maybe not? You're confused, ashamed, aroused. It hits you all at once—how perfectly suited Tommy is to the role of the experienced, dominant man. How effortlessly he plays with it, nudging you into the part of the naïve little thing, so easily led by him. Ada warned you for a reason—getting involved with her brother is like playing with fire. A game you already love as much as you hate.

Tommy doesn’t break eye contact as he unbuttons his vest, shrugging it off with practiced ease. "Or maybe…" He tilts his head, studying you like he’s considering an alternative, one that’s just as inevitable. "You had plenty to say just a moment ago. Now you’ve gone all quiet. Too bad." His fingers brush over your jaw, coaxing your gaze back to his. "Maybe you’re better at showing than telling."

Your gaze drops—and heat flares in your core as you take in the very prominent bulge in his trousers.

Your reaction obviously doesn't go unnoticed by him. "That’s what I thought," Tommy says with a self-satisfied nod. “You want my cock so badly, naughty little thing, eh?”

His fingers move to his shirt next, working the buttons loose with infuriating patience. One by one. Like he’s giving you time to stop him. Like he knows you won’t. You're transfixed, watching as he strips off the fabric, baring his chest to you.

"From the way you’re looking at me…" He lets the words linger, his lips curving slightly. "I’d say I’m already heading in the right direction."

He takes your hand, pressing it against his skin, guiding you over the hard planes of muscle before leading you lower. You swallow, nodding hesitantly. His grip tightens around your wrist, his ice-blue eyes fix on you and his breathing betrays his arousal. With deliberate force, he presses your palm against the bulge in his trousers.

He’s so fucking hard. So hot and full beneath the fabric that you bite your lip at the thought of what’s waiting underneath.

"Come on," he urges teasingly with playful dominance. "Don’t be shy. Take him out."

You obey without thinking, your fingers fumbling at his belt before pulling him free. He springs into your palm, warm and thick.

"Now," he murmurs, "where do you want it?" He leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear. " I can be anywhere inside you, wherever you want.”

This man is going to ruin you.

Your fingers tighten around him instinctively, and he hisses, full of approval and desire. "Good girl," he mutters. "Get a feel for it." His own hand slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher, teasing at the bare skin beneath. As if by chance, his fingers brush over your soaked panties. "Holy fuck, you’re a mess down here, baby. So fucking wet, so needy—just waiting for me to stretch you open." His fingers flex against your hip, pulling you closer, letting you feel the solid weight of him against your stomach. "Bet I could slide right in without any resistance." You long for nothing more than for him to do just that as his fingers tease your entrance.

He watches your reaction, drinking in every tiny flicker of arousal, every unsteady breath. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reaches down, wrapping his fingers over yours, guiding your hand to stroke him. His grip forces you to move exactly the way he wants—no hesitations, no teasing, just smooth, firm strokes.

"Feels good, eh?" His voice is thick with satisfaction. "You can admit it. No one’s here to judge you, sweetheart."

You nod, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Uh, uh. That’s not enough. I know you need more." His fingers circle around where you desperately crave him, without giving you the relief of plunging inside you.

"You know," he drawls, "when I said you could show me, I lied." His eyes glint with playful cruelty. "I don’t like it when a woman goes silent on me. Makes it awfully hard to figure out what she needs." He leans in closer. "So, speak up, young lady. How exactly do you want me to fuck you?"

You swallow hard, pulse hammering.

Tommy’s patience drives you insane. With how fucking hard he is, he must have a ridiculous amount of self-control. He waits, amusement dancing in his ice blue eyes, like he’s enjoying watching you struggle to say it. His fingers ghost over your damp panties, teasing, barely there. "Come on. I know you’re not shy."

Your breathing stutters as you shift against him. "I…"

His grin widens. "Go on. Say it."

You bite your lip, heat coiling low in your stomach. He leans in, his hand grabs your hair. He whispers, "Or do you want me to make you beg for it?"

A desperate whimper escapes you, and his answering chuckle is dark and triumphant.

"Not that I don’t love hearing a woman beg to be fucked senseless," he continues. "But my cock would much rather be inside you right now than waiting for you to find your words." His smirk turns sharp. "So don’t test me more than necessary."

Before you can process it, he grips your hips and lifts you onto his dark, wooden desk in the middle of the room, pushing your dress up, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. A single sharp tug, and the fabric is shoved aside.

You barely have time to breathe before he steps between your thighs, hands gripping your legs, pulling you against him.

"That’s better," he mutters, his cock heavy and hot against you. "Now, last chance. Tell me how badly you need it."

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you wrap your legs around him, yanking him closer, hips arching against him in pure frustration. "Please," you gasp. "Fill me up, I can’t stand this anymore."

He groans, the sound almost pained. "Fuck, yes…this is a start."

You feel him pushing inside, stretching you open with the tip of his cock, followed by an agonizing break.

“What did you just say, can you explain this to me in more detail,” he teases you. In response, you try to pull him closer to you - into you - with your legs.

“Uh, uh,” he backs away. “Tell me more!”

"Fuck me until I can’t think straight…wreck me…use me…make me yours…,” you grit out every raw desire that comes to your mind, not giving up on pulling him into you.

His grip tightens on your hips as he thrusts forward, visibly satisfied with the words he elicited from you, fully sinking into you with a sharp groan. The stretch, the sheer size of him, knocks the breath from your lungs. His pace is brutal—every movement deliberate, every stroke calculated to drag a desperate sound from your lips.

"I’m gonna make you feel me for days," he grinds out. His hands move with purpose—pushing up your dress, freeing your breasts from their confinement, fingertips digging into your skin as if to mark you.

After what felt like an eternity, Tommy pulls you up against his chest, one hand fisting in your hair as he drives into you harder. His mouth finds the curve of your neck, biting, sucking, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your fingers scramble for purchase, nails digging into his forearm, but it only seems to spur him on.

Then, suddenly, he withdraws. Before you can whimper at the loss, he pulls you to the velvet chaise longue next to the massive bookshelf and drags you up onto your knees. His hand slides down your spine, his palm pressing between your shoulder blades to press your upper body into the cushion.

"Stay just like that," he orders, lining himself up before slamming back inside.

The angle has you gasping, fingers curling into the dark red velvet. Every thrust is rough, punishing, and exactly what you need. Your moans grow desperate, pleasure coiling unbearably tight inside you.

“Don't you dare come unless I tell you,” he hisses with a strained voice.

Each thrust sends shockwaves through you, scattering your thoughts until nothing remains but the dizzying, all-consuming need to obey. Your vision blurs, the rows of bookshelves before you warping as your knees weaken beneath the force of his movements.

Tommy’s hands roam over your body with unrestrained possession, squeezing your ass roughly before delivering a few playful, stinging smacks. His fingers dig into your back, anchoring himself to you as if claiming every inch of your skin. By now, you must be covered in his marks, each one a silent testament to his dominance.

Suddenly, he grabs your hair, yanking you upright with effortless control. Before you can catch your breath, he grips your shoulders, spinning you to face him. His fingers clamp around your jaw, prying your lips apart as he crashes his mouth onto yours, devouring you in a searing, breath-stealing kiss. When he finally pulls away, his eyes glint with satisfaction, a slow, knowing smirk curling his lips.

"Look at you," he murmurs, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. "Already too dumb to think straight, eh?"

As if in a trance, you nod weakly. His fingers disappear into the heat of your crotch. You whimper softly.

“So fucking wet for my cock, so beautifully fucked open,” he praises you, before he drives his fingers, slick with your juices, into your mouth. Instinctively, you start to suck them clean.

“Good girl!” His grip shifts to your throat, tilting your head back just enough for his voice to curl into your ear.

Without a warning, he shoves you down onto his desk again, this time facing forward, your torso landing harshly against the cold wood. Before you can steady yourself, he grabs your wrists, pinning both arms behind your back with an unyielding grip. Then, without hesitation, he thrusts into you again—deeper, harder—pulling a broken gasp from your lips.

"Come for me, my little fuck doll" he demands. "Now."

And you do—helplessly, violently, your body shuddering around him as he fucks you through it.

“Oh, how I love the way your tight pussy twitches around me,” Tommy gasps.

With a groan, he pulls out, dragging you off the desk and onto your knees before him. His fingers tangle in your hair as he strokes himself, gaze locked onto yours.

"Open up," he commands.

You barely get your lips parted before he spills across your tongue and cheek with a deep, satisfied growl. His thumb swipes over your chin, smearing it across your skin as he exhales shakily.

“We both know this is exactly what you deserved, eh,” he lectures you. “And if you set foot in Arrow House again, don’t expect me to wait for an invitation."

Then, with a smirk, he tilts your face up to his.

"Don’t wipe it off," he instructs, amusement laced in his tone. "I want you to go back to the party just like that.”

His grin sharpens. "Let’s see if you can manage that without anyone noticing."

Without giving you a chance to react, he tugs your dress back into place and swiftly readjusts his own clothes. Then, without hesitation, he opens the door and pulls you back into the lively chaos of the party night.

***

New to the Cillian party, so just let me know if you (don't) want to be tagged to my next stories!

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[javierpena-inatacvest]

A Little Longer

Summary: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), this is literally porn with no plot WHOOPS, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, breeding kink (just really wanting to cum inside- no implications of wanting to get pregnant but use your imagination if you so choose because you know I will🙂 edging, overstimulation (if u squint), praise kink, size kink, feral Frankie, but also sweet soft baby boy Frankie 😭🥺

A/N: Ovulation demons are at it again!!! 🤠 Idk what to tell y'all, this came to me (quite literally whoops) and I couldn't rest until my thots were written down! I know Joel won the voting poll for this one, but honestly it just screams Frankie 😩 Everyone clap for Madeline as she writes something that isn't an explicit pregnancy breeding kink!!!!

Frankie was never the type of guy to spend his Sundays glued to the TV, watching whatever NFL game was on just for the sake of staying up to date on the sports world.

So when you found him in the living room, lounged and sprawled out across your couch with football on in the background, you were sure that now was just as good of a time as any to suggest you spend the rest of your lazy afternoon in a much more enjoyable way for the both of you.

"How much longer until the game is done?" You cooed, crawling into Frankie's lap, straddling your legs across his hips and tracing your fingers up and down the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

"'Bout halfway. Why?" Frankie smirked, the half hard bulge growing in his sweatpants revealing he knew damn well why you had asked.

"Because, I have a game I'd rather play that's much better than football." You teased, leaning down to trail soft kisses along his neck and jaw, subtly grinding your hips down into his.

"Yeah? and what game would that be, quierda?" Frankie's smirk only grew wider, lust pooling in the warmth of his brown eyes as his hands roamed to grope your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

"My favorite game. The game where you put your dick inside me."

The two of you couldn't help but giggle despite the palpable tension brewing between you, a desperate and hungry need filling the air as Frankie's grip tightened, feeling you sink your weight over the full blown erection tenting his pants.

"That is a good game," Frankie chuckled, looking up at you with a concentrated furrow in his brow, seeing the gears turn in his mind as his eyes locked with yours. "I'll play. But-"

"But what, Frankie?" You asked, titling your head in confusion at his pause.

"But... We get to play by my rules."

At this point, Frankie's subtle smirk had shifted to a full blown devilish grin, leaving you wondering what kind of ideas he had managed to concoct in regards to your proposal.

"And what rules would those be, Franke?" You mewled, playing along as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, tugging it down just enough to expose the happy trail running down the lower half of his stomach.

"I'll put my dick in you... But I'm not fucking you until the game is done."

You froze in your tracks, the unsure scrunch of your face acting as a silent ask to figure out if Frankie was being serious or not. The sudden shift in the tone of his voice now humming deep in his chest with a hungry desire, made it very clear that his suggestion was more than sure.

"If you want me to fuck you, rules are that you keep me inside you until the game is finished. But you can't move, can't touch yourself, and can't cum 'till I say."

You could already feel the slick starting to pool in the cotton of your underwear from anticipation and excitement, heart pulsing in your chest and cunt at the prospects of Frankie's idea. Because if there was one think Frankie knew about you, it was that you'd never turn down a challenge. And more importantly, you hated losing. So who would you be to deny him a chance to challenge him at his own game?

"You're on, Morales."

It had started off easy- sweet, even- Frankie spooning behind you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy, ass resting against his hips as your bodies melded together, snuggling on the couch.

He had even eased you into it, taking the first part of the 3rd quarter after half time had finished to stretch you out slowly, starting with just the tip notching between your folds and into your heat, sinking himself deeper inside you every few minutes to let you adjust to his size.

Even with how worked up you were, with half of Frankie's length now resting inside you, your confidence in making it another quarter and a half still abiding by Frankie's rules didn't seem too far out of reach.

But then again, you weren't expecting Frankie to play dirty, either.

Suddenly, Frankie was foregoing his subtle pace, trailing hot, wet kisses along your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, filling you to the brim as his tip nestled against your cervix. A pathetic whimper escaped from your parted lips, catching your breath while your pussy pulsed around his length, feeling Frankie's smug grin pressed against your shoulder between his kisses.

"Oh f-fuck, Frankie!" You moaned, the sweet sting of his stretch already making your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying with everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"There ya go, princesa. Tight little pussy always takes me so well, doesn't she?" Frankie cooed almost mockingly, the hot breath of his words dancing against your skin between sucking at your pulse point. "Gotta relax, baby girl. Still have a ways to go before the game's over."

You took a long inhale in, glancing at the game clock in the bottom corner of the TV frame, finding the small box that read "3rd Quarter- 6:37" and doing some quick calculations in your head.

6 minutes left of this quarter and 15 minutes in the next. Plus game breaks and commercials? You could pull yourself together enough to make it through that without falling apart? Can't be that much longer, right?

For the average person watching football, you were right.

But to you, with Frankie's cock buried in your pussy, painstakingly teasing you to the point of near tears, you were convinced that you were watching the longest football game ever played in the history of mankind.

After sinking his full length to your hilt, Frankie had become relentless. It started off just like he had before, the intensity of his teasing amping up little by little with each minute that passed.

It began with the kisses on your neck, slowing trailing up and down your warm skin, whispering sweet praises into your ear. The tickle of the scratchy hairs from his beard making you shiver in delight, wishing it was buried between your legs, scratching the inside of your thighs as he ate you out instead of your neck.

Next, came his hands, palms that were once innocently splayed across your stomach now reaching under your shirt to palm at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp, fingertips gently rolling your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hard buds with just enough pressure that his other hand was holding your hips firmly in place to keep you from grinding against him and taking any more than he gave you.

If both of those weren't enough, the final straw was when the hand lazily groping at your breasts snaked down your front, finding its way to your clit, puffy and aching from its time spent untouched while Frankie's cock lay stiff and full inside you.

At this point, you were absolutely soaked, every inch of your bottom half drenched in your arousal as you leaked around Frankie's length, the pads of his fingers sliding over your sensitive and slippery bundle of nerves with unspeakable ease. Even though he had barley but any pressure over your clit, just the ghosting of his fingertips was enough to make you sob, desperate to chase your high after what felt like hours of Frankie teasing you with his cock.

"Oh my god, F-frankie, fuck- please, baby. P-please touch me." You begged, pathetically whimpering as his fingers traced through your drenched folds, his strong grip holding your hips in place to keep you from pushing your ass deeper into his hips for some sort of relief.

"Shhhhhh, I know, baby. But you can't cum yet, remember? If I touch you, you gotta be a good girl and follow the rules of the game." Frankie smirked, teasing you as his fingers lazily collected your slick, purposefully circling them everywhere but your clit.

"I won't, I promise, p-please, Frankie. P-please."

Giving into your plea, Frankie dragged his fingers up your cunt, making you cry out as he finally began to rub slow circles against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of temporary relief and painful ache to cum making you clamp down around Frankie's cock, wetness gushing from your core.

It was taking everything in you to fight the urge to collapse, biting down so hard on your lip you were convinced it might bleed as you felt the pleasure begin to build in you. Unfortunately for you, Frankie had spent enough time memorizing every twitch and tug of your body beneath his that he knew your tell tale signs, pulling his fingers away to the sounds of your ragged moans.

"Frankie, n-no, fuck- please, baby. I need more, pleasepleaseplease."

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you beg. I know, quierda, but not yet. There's still 4 minutes left in the game. 4 minutes left and then I'll fuck you. Fuck you with my tounge, my cock, I'll make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight. But not until this tight little pussy is so wet and ready for me that she can take everything I have to give."

With the way Frankie's filthy mouth was spewing, he might as well be fucking into you at full force, his words shooting straight to your core, fingers digging into your couch cushions for any sort of relief you could get.

"F-Frankieeeee-" His name was the only thing your mind could comprehend enough to get out, practically panting as the sheen of sweat began to dampen your forehead.

"You're doing so good for me, baby girl. I know you can take it." Frankie praised, scooping his hand under your jaw to turn your face towards him, cradling your cheeks in his grasp to force your lips to his, colliding mouths muffling the moans escaping from you.

You were practically drunk off pleasure at this point, trying your best to fight off a dizzying high as you watched the clock wind down at a painstaking pace, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the clock shift to count down from only one minute left.

"Less than a minute left, Hermosa. Think you can make it?" Frankie cooed, his fingers creeping back down to circle your clit, sending a jolt through your body as he rubbed at the slippery and soaked bundle of nerves.

The best you could do was nod your head, too far gone for any words as your cunt clamped tighter and tighter around him, so wet that you were more than positive you'd be cleaning stains of your puddles of slick out of your couch tomorrow.

Looking back at the TV, you were down to 12 seconds left, the winning team already celebrating their inevitable victory, hoping that it would be enough for Frankie to give in and finally fuck you.

"F-fuck me, Fransisco, please. Please, baby, wanna cum around your cock so bad." You whined at a pathetic pitch, pleading with Frankie to give you what you had been so desperate for.

You could hear the sigh of relief as the game clock finally wound down to :00, sensing an immediate shift in Frankie's demeanor as the game came to a close.

"Oh thank fuck this game is done." Frankie groaned, flipping you over onto your back and caging his body over yours, colliding your mouths in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

While he may not have said it, Frankie was just as wound up as you, the warm and wet walls of your cunt soaking him for the better part of an hour driving him absolutely feral, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from accepting defeat at his own game.

"Wanted to fuck you so bad, quierda. Do you know how hard it was not to give into you, baby? Not to hear those pretty moans and not fuck this perfect pussy. You did so good for me, so good that I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Gonna fill you up so full of me, I'll be dripping out of you for days."

Frankie sat back, throwing your legs over the width of his broad shoulders, leaning into you so that your thighs pressed against your stomach, stretching you open even further than you thought you could as he began to punch into you at a punishing pace.

His cock rammed against your g-spot, the sounds wet squelching from his length dragging in and out of your soaking heat, balls slapping against your ass and lewd moans had your living room sounding like it was straight out of a porn scene

"Fuckfuckfuck- Frankie- don't stop, baby. Don't stop." You sobbed, Frankie barley 10 strokes in before you could feel the coil in your belly beginning to tighten, so worked up from waiting for this moment that you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.

"Not gonna stop, hermosa. Lemme feel it, baby. Did so good for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you soak me. Wanna feel you before I fuck myself so deep inside of you."

“Ohmygod- oh Frankie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It only took a few more strokes and the curly hairs at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit to send you over the edge, your pent up orgasm crashing through you so hard, you were conviced that you were levitating in pure ecstasy. Every inch of your body was trembling with pleasure, gushing around Frankie’s cock as you came, your velvety walls choking his length as he relentlessly continued to fuck into you, ready to chase his own high.

“That’s my good girl. Let go, baby. Cum all over me. Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Frankie groaned, admiring you as you rode out your orgasm, jaw slack and mouth hanging open in a perfect “O”, your glossed over eyes and blissed out expression finding a way to drive him even more wild.

Reaching between your legs, Frankie’s fingers found your clit, making you cry out from how sensitive you still were, barely finished cumming before he was already on his way to doing it again.

“Frankie, it’s too- fuck- too much. Oh my god, shit-“ you sobbed, wrapping your fingers around his biceps, his muscles flexing in your grasp as you tried to brace yourself.

“I know you can take it, Hermosa. Need to give you one more. Please, let me give you one more.”

“I- fuck- I c-can’t.” But despite your half hearted protest, you and Frankie both knew that you were already half way to reaching your high again, coil in your stomach tightening with each punch against your g-spot and rub of his fingers on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"You can, baby girl, I know you can. Can feel how close you are again- so fucking wet and tight, fuck- Give me one more and I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me- watch my cum leak out of your tight little pussy 'till I can fuck it back into you again, keep you inside me for days." Frankie moaned, his pace now becoming more frantic and sloppy with each thrust, fighting with everything in him to keep from finishing before you did once more.

The combination of the feral thoughts that Frankie found himself spewing, along with the overwhelming and all consuming pleasure was all you needed to tip you over the edge again, this orgasm even more intense than the last. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, sobbing and crying out Frankie's name like a broken prayer, body practically going limp as pure bliss overtook you.

"Oh shit- Fuck, you're so good to me, quierda. Feels so fucking good. Fuck, I'm gonna cum too- mierda- give you everything I have, gonna-ahhhhh! Fuck!"

Just like that, Frankie was spilling inside you, hips stuttering with one final thrust as he painted your walls with hot, thick ropes of his spend, balls drawing up into his stomach while he milked himself of every last drop he had to give.

Through heavy breaths and gritted teeth, Frankie carefully pulled out his softening cock, sitting back on his heels to watch the mix of your spend begin to drip out of your hole, awestruck but the wet and shiny mess between your thighs, pussy puffy, swollen and leaking with him.

But for just as animalistic as it made Frankie to watch his cum seep out of your spent cunt, there was an even more primitive part of him that need to make sure that you stayed full of him, to mark his territory inside of you.

Shifting to lay on his stomach, Frankie kept your legs slung over his shoulders, pushing your thighs to your chest to spread you open, watching more of his seed dribble out of your pussy. With a satisfied groan rumbling deep in his chest, Frankie stuck out his tongue, swiping it up to collect the warm mixture of your arousal before pushing it back into your heat, gently fucking you with his mouth as you whined and writhed beneath him.

Once he was satisfied with his cum stuffed back inside you, Frankie couldn't help but look up at you with the most satisfied smirk spread across his face, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up to trap your body beneath his, resting his weight on top of you with his head nestled between your breasts, big brown puppy dog eyes staring up at you.

"Are you okay, baby?" He cooed, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was amazing, Frankie." You smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through the messy curls of his sweat-ridden hair, heart swelling with how quickly Frankie had flipped the switch from assertive to soft and sweet. "We should watch football like that more often."

"Baby, if this is how you wanna watch football, I won't let us miss another fucking game the rest of this season."

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[withmyloveasyourgarden]

ALL I EVER DO IS BURN UP FOR YOU

LOKI LAUFEYSON X F!READER

A mishap on a mission, rivals that don't hate each other as much as they pretend to, and a well meaning visit to the god of mischief's door that brings about something you never expected. [18+. Sex pollen/aphrodisiac fic. 6.2K. Re-uploaded from my old blog.]

It starts with an argument. 

With you and him hissing insults and bickering like children over who's more suited for such a high stakes mission. With your hands itching to bury deep into ink spilled curls, if only to yank his face back from where it's obnoxiously tilted close to yours and watch those mocking, glacial eyes widen in shock. 

You had put the work in, assembled all the information and hunted relentlessly for the location of the weapons lab only for him to sweep in at the last moment and use mortality against you. It's an excuse that strikes a dangerous match in your blood, heats your skin to an unhealthy temperature whilst your eyes narrow to vicious slits.

"You mortals are frail and weak, too easily breakable. I'm obviously a much better choice, what could their feeble minds possibly create that will harm a god." 

It makes you nearly scream that the others vote in his favour. Rage, ugly and knotted, sticking in your chest at the insinuation you should be seen as fragile when you've fought for years among advanced tech suits, super soldiers, master assassins and an indefinitely more likeable god.

You're not proud of the way it burns at you, that it plucks at some pitiful insecure string you've tried to bury by pushing yourself harder, always harder. 

He's made you feel like you're not good enough to be here despite all you've done and it gathers petty venom on your tongue faster than you can blink. 

"Don't come crying to me when you fuck up, I'll be here waiting to laugh in your face when the shit they're packing knocks you of your pedestal."

The words are sharp and scathing, spat over your shoulder before you're storming out and leaving everyone to stare after you. 

You miss the arrogant smirk falter on his lips the moment you're gone. 

** 

Guilt comes to you swiftly. 

You didn't really mean what you said, you hope he succeeds, people's lives count on it and deep down you even hope that he's right and in no real danger. 

It's not like you to lose your temper and be so petulant. It really isn't. 

It's just Loki. 

He's rubbed you the wrong way from the moment you met. His arrogance, his patronising drawl and insatiable need to get under your skin, bringing something immature and half feral out of you without fail. 

Before him you didn't know what it was like to hate someone, to have someone manipulate every nerve you have with lithe fingers until there's flames in your blood and violence in your eyes. 

It irritates you more that he's so fucking pretty, that his body looks like it's been carved from marble in an artist's quest for divine perfection, and that you'd been attracted to him almost immediately until he'd opened that poisoned mouth of his. 

And unfortunately there's still moments where it snags at you like hooks in your skin, where it feels like you could give in to the temptation to claw and sink your teeth into him as he pounds you so fucking hard you see galaxies. 

You feel it when he's pressed, hard and unforgiving, against the soft give of your body. When you've managed to incense him to the point he's prowled towards you, anger cracking in his eyes like chipped shards of ice, until your back has hit a solid surface for him to crowd you up against. 

It's then that the energy between you snaps raw - hits it's most volatile like it's gathering itself to an explosive peak. You both linger in it, let the moment seep thick in the heat until it edges along the line of pain. 

But then someone always eventually draws away and you wonder if there's a dark pit, a chasm of unknown want, in his stomach like there is in yours whenever you do.  

** 

When Natasha appears at your door the first thing you think is that she's come to talk about before. You know she sees more than most people and she's always sneaking subtle questions into your conversations about the God of mischief. 

The second thing you think is that the universe must fucking hate you and your previous guilt had obviously not been enough to make up for your behaviour. 

"You're needed in the lab, they need what you know on the bio weapons made in that place - Loki's been hit with something." 

"Hit with what?" 

"He said it was some kind of dart." 

"Did he say what the liquid looked like? Was it blue or purple?" 

"Blue I think, why?" 

Shit.

**

"Good news, he's not going to die a horrific, agonising death from his systems shutting down one by one." 

"And the bad news?" Thor grimaces, his brow heavy with concern and thick arms folded over his chest as he peers at you.

"He could possibly die of… something else." You wince, feeling the awkwardness of embarrassment flooding your tongue. "The thing he's been injected with is an aphrodisiac, a really fucking strong one, they basically manipulated it to cause as much pain and discomfort as they could to make victims more pliant to what they wanted." 

Thor stares at you for a long moment, face blank whilst you watch him working over the information you've given him, then suddenly he blinks, once, twice. 

"You're saying Loki needs to fuck someone or he'll die?" 

"Possibly, I'm not– I'm not one hundred percent sure, okay." You sigh. "That's what happened when someone human was injected, your brother is a god. The effects could be different– milder maybe." 

"So there's a chance he could be fine?"

"Yeah but I'm not a scientist or a doctor, he should really get… checked...out. Wait– Thor, where the hell is he?" 

You hadn't even had a chance until now to notice the presence of a huffy, irate raven haired god was missing from the situation. 

His brother had practically snatched you up as you'd ran towards the lab, his face panicked as he'd word vomited a thousand and one questions about the drug, its effects and the danger it posed to Loki. 

But as you peer around the suddenly quiet god of thunder now, there is definitely a rather worrying absence - the lab empty besides the doctor. 

"Oh, he's in his room." Thor confesses awkwardly, one of his large hands scratching at the the back of his neck whilst he offers you a sheepish smile. "I tried to bring him here but he was somewhat violently against it, he threatened to stab me again." 

You snort. 

Of course he did, the overgrown fucking child. 

Trust Loki to be injected with a lethal substance and rather than be monitored for potential risks to his health he'd prefer to pout in his room. 

"Thor, someone needs to go there and bring him down - this is serious." 

He grins then, charming and radiant, and god help you because you know it's coming, both of you fully aware of the soft spot you have for your blonde Asgardian friend and the fact you can't say no when he asks you for something so politely. 

"I think my presence will do nothing more than irritate him further." He says, soft ocean blue eyes pleading at you. "Maybe you can go and try and lure him out? He's always more easily persuaded when it comes to you." 

Highly fucking doubt it, you want to scoff at him. If anything the mere sight of you is enough to set Loki off on a tangent. 

But he's staring at you all hopeful and sweet and there's nothing you can do but curse these two gods that have clearly been sent to be twin pains in your life. 

"Fine." You grit instead. 

**

You're not sure how long you pace outside the door before he calls to you. 

Long enough that he berates you for trying to wear a hole through the floor, his voice dripping in amusement and a tinge of something rough that your mind doesn't register until it's too late. 

He's the epitome of composure when you slip inside his room, causing you to frown as you narrow your eyes and scan the length of his body. 

He's still in full leathers, his legs stretched across his bed and ankles locked whilst he leans back regally against the headboard. 

There's something you can't put your finger on though, something not right about how he looks, not even a hair out of place or a scratch on his leathers to say he'd just returned from a mission. 

It's almost too perfect. 

"Come to laugh in my face, have you darling?" He drawls, smirking when your eyes snap to his face. "It's a shame then I must tell you I'm perfectly fine." 

"They told me you'd been injected with something." You say quietly, gaze still searching for something out of place whilst you edge closer. 

"Ah and you thought you'd come and witness my suffering did you? Thought you'd see a god brought to his knees by some mortal drug? Apologies for the disappointment." 

You shake your head and stare at him in disbelief. "Loki no." You argue softly. "I came to bring you to the lab, the drug you've been injected with could seriously harm you, you need to be tested and kept under observation." 

He scoffs, a petulant thing as he rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. "I take it my brother sent you in hopes a pretty face would sway me. I will tell you like I told him, I am fine, I have no need of your doctors." 

His voice tries for nonchalance, arrogance even, but there's an underlying coldness you detect that seems unwarranted and leaves you feeling frustrated. 

"Why are you being so unreasonably stubborn." You grit, your hands curling to fists on top of your hips whilst you stride towards the bed and glower down at him. "We're only trying to help you, how about you try being grateful."

"Why are you being so irritatingly stupid." He spits back. Long legs swing gracefully off the bed and land either side of yours, the blue of his eyes pulsing dark as his lips pull back and bare teeth. "I do not need your help, I do not need some silly little midgardian doctors poking and prodding at me whilst I'm expected to just lie there vulnerable." 

Oh. 

Oh fuck, you have been stupid. 

Shortly after the arrival of his brother, Thor had filled you all in on some Loki's history. Told you quietly, guiltily, that whilst he wasn't completely innocent of the deeds he'd committed, they hadn't been entirely his doing either. 

It had been enough to make you shudder, for sympathy to bloom in your heart despite everything, at the thought of the kind of torture that would have to be inflicted upon a god to make him crumble to another's will. 

Of course he would be wary of someone wanting to draw bloods and hook him to machines and do any other tests they had in mind. Of course it would bring back terrible memories for him. You feel wretched for not understanding sooner, your eyes softening and the frustration bleeding from your body quicker than it had arrived. 

"No one is going to hurt you Loki." You murmur gently, letting his gaze narrow to suspicious slits as he searches your words and face for the barest hint of a lie. "We just want to make sure you're okay, that's all, I promise." 

His eyes widen for a moment, expression faltering to something raw and unguarded whilst he stares up at you and your fingers twitch with urge to run themselves along his jaw, over his cheek and through the soft looking curls of his hair in some surprising need to offer comfort. 

But then he shutters. His expression turns mischievous and haughty and you can practically sense the sarcastic quip of his tongue before he's even opening his mouth. 

"Worried about me, are you darling?" He arches a dark brow, lips quirking into a smug grin. "I must confess I like seeing you all bothered about me like this." 

You go to tell him to fuck off, go to spin on your heel and march down to the lab and declare that he's absolutely fine, just peachy, his usual rage inducing self. 

But then your eyes flick up on a whim and see the sweat beading along his hairline, dampening the finer hairs and slicking them to his skin. 

That isn't right.

You've seen this man fight, witnessed him slice through countless enemies without so much as a stilted huff of breath let alone physically breaking a sweat. It's something he practically prides himself on, ridiculing you for looking like a dishevelled mess whenever you emerge from battle after him. 

The next move you make is on reflex, a common habit that you resort to without thought. 

You lift the palm of your hand to his forehead to check his temperature, your skin already grazing his before you register his panicked ‘stop–don't!’ and your mind is only capable of offering one thought before the world is suddenly swept out from beneath your feet. 

The typically cold skinned god is blisteringly hot.

Loki snarls the second your hand makes full contact and there's a sudden pulse of energy that ripples through the air, stealing your breath and tingling along your skin. You don't realise what it is until he's grabbed you and caged you beneath him. 

Magic. More specifically, an illusion. 

He's definitely not fine. 

He's panting and shaking, his arms trembling whilst he hovers over you, face shiny with sweat and cheeks flushed fever pink. When he peers down at you, you inhale sharply, the blue of his eyes has all but gone - swallowed whole by the hungry expanse of his pupils.

"Loki." You whisper and a violent shudder racks his already taut body, the movement dragging your eyes lower before they snap back to his face as you let out a startled squeak. 

His illusion had hid more than you'd been able to realise before he'd tossed you on the bed and now the image of him half naked, in nothing but unlaced leather pants that are doing a poor job of concealing the large outline of his cock, is burned into your brain - even as you close your eyes and take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart. 

Your squeak seems to snap him out of the lustful haze he's in however, a shocked slash of clarity in his eyes when yours flicker back open and pain streaking across his face like it hurts him to drag himself from your body when he pushes away and rocks back on his heels. 

"I'm sorry– fuck– I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." He gasps and he looks so genuinely distraught that you almost reach for him again, only snatching your hand back when his eyes dart to it's approach and he flinches. 

"It's alright Loki, I'm okay." You soothe, concerned. "I want to help you if you'll let me, just tell me how." 

He laughs then, something croaked and hollow, and removes the heels of his palms from his eyes to stare you down in a way that is mildly flustering. 

"You shouldn't ask me that." He husks. "The things I want - if you knew - you wouldn't ask me that." 

Well fuck. You hadn't meant it like that, you'd been thinking along the lines of taking him for medical help or running to get his brother.

But now-  

There's something about the way he says it, the way he looks saying it, the heat that slips back into his eyes as he mentions wanting, that makes you very much need to know. 

It makes your stomach twist in an intense way, a wicked pang of heat spearing through your belly, the beginnings of a fierce craving, and the words are out of your mouth before you can shove your hand against your lips to stop them. 

"Tell me what you want, I’ll do it." 

He glares at you then, twin shocks of piercing blue glowing from beneath the sweat-damp of his curling hair, nostrils flaring as if you're truly testing the limits of his patience. His head has dipped low, long fingers twisting themselves in the strewn bed sheets in an effort to ground himself as another cruel tremor sweeps through him.  

"What I want." He seethes after it recedes, tossing his head back to pin you with a furious look. "I will not take from you, not like this." 

"Why not?" You push yourself up, confused, and he hastily shifts back, keeping a safe distance between you whilst anger and frustration crawls across his face.

"Because when I take you I want it to be because you want it." He snarls. "Not because of some warped sense of duty or self sacrifice that you and the rest of your idiotic team consider heroic." 

It's endearing, if not more than a little insulting. 

You're heart beats a little faster at the fact he's thought about fucking you, fluttering wildly behind your ribs because he seems to want you just as much as you want him. 

But the insinuation you'd only be with him because it's your job to save people brings a type of rage thrumming through your blood that only Loki has ever been capable of summoning. 

"You think I'd fuck you just because it might save your life? That I'd offer myself to you so intimately just so I could get for a fucking pat on the back for helping you?" You spit, offended. "I thought gods were supposed to be smart, or is it just you that is this extraordinarily stupid." 

The situation feels familiar now, the two of you forgetting everything to return to spewing insults and barbs at each other because neither of you know how to deal with the sticky truth, the undeniable hope that the other one might feel the same. 

And for a moment it works. 

It distracts Loki from his pain, from his reluctance to be close to you, touching you, and in one swift move, he lunges. Knocks you back against the mattress and buries you beneath the weight of his powerful body.

"Careful with that mouth, darling." He taunts, dragging his nose across the curve of your cheek before savage eyes lock on yours. "Or I might be tempted to find something other than your poisonous words to fill it. 

You don't rise to his baiting like you typically would, don't hiss and claw at him like a scorned cat because he's too close and his touch is an wholly unwanted offence on your skin.

Instead you do something infinitely worse.

You shock him. 

You say his name, soft as silk, legs parting to make room for him to sink against you and his eyes blow wide - stunned like he can't quite believe you're real and inviting him to cover you entirely, to wrap himself around you like ivy, without an ounce of disgust. 

"That's what I want."

**

He groans ragged like you've wounded him, like you've shoved your hand through his chest and yanked at something vital. 

His hips lurch up subconsciously against yours and oh, it's enough to make your mouth run dry. The quick glimpse of him you'd had is nothing compared to the feel of him pushing against you. 

It makes the tension bloat, electricity crackling upon your skin and you don't know how he isn't half mad with the drug when you feel like you could combust just from this alone. 

He makes a rough, desperate sound in the back of his throat when you wrap your legs around him, eyes burning pitch black and starved as he trails his nose along the side of your face and growls.

"Darling–perfect little thing– tell me to stop. I can't– tell me this isn't what you really want." 

You remove your hands from their bone knuckled grip on his arms, cradling the sharp lines of his jaw and pulling him down to where his lips just ghost over your own.

"I want you, Loki." You murmur. "Let me make it better, let me give you what you need." 

He snaps then, lunges forward and claims your mouth in a punishing kiss, drinking you in so deep that you can barely breathe but you'll gladly suffocate before you even think of asking him to ease up. 

You've never been kissed like this before, with such brutal demand and unyielding need that you could split apart at the seams from the raw heat of it all. 

You tangle your hands something fierce into the silken depths of his hair, give a sharp tug when he scores the pillow of your lip with his teeth before drawing the tender flesh into his mouth like he wants nothing more than to mark you everywhere and with every part of him. 

The pull of his hair draws an inhuman snarl from his chest and his hands turn to steel upon your thighs, fingers sinking in deep and wrenching your legs apart so his hips can slam against your cunt. 

"Loki." You gasp, his name turning to a choked moan on your tongue as he licks and bites at your throat, teeth bared against the flushed skin in a terribly smug grin that you cannot bring yourself to huff about.

"That's it pet - say my name - let me hear how good I make you feel." He purrs. 

You push at him then, push for control and to take advantage of his distraction so you can flip him on his back and fuck, he looks almost criminally good beneath you. Eyes startled, his lips parted in shock before they spread into a sharp, feral grin. 

It's impossible to resist falling back into him, sweeping your tongue into his mouth when he catches you against his chest and swallowing the moans that pour from his lips to yours whilst you circle your hips relentlessly over the thick of him. 

He likes constantly being touched, you've realised, craves it, yields to it, a soft note of disappointment always slipping through his gritted teeth when you remove any part of yourself. 

So you touch him everywhere.

Your hips remain fused to his and your hands never cease roaming, scratching and tracing every ridge and dip of his body whilst you kiss, nip and lick at him until he's a whimpering mess beneath you. 

You slip down the length of his body when it seems like he'll fracture if you take your time with him any longer, gentle hands peeling the leather of his trousers back and down, releasing his cock and wrapping your fingers around the thick weight.

He hisses at the contact, body going rigid and jackknifing from the bed as your thumb grazes up over the leaking head and you begin to stroke him. He croaks out your name like it's a plea to the heavens, his breath falling to ragged pants when you drag your tongue across the slit of his cock before sinking your mouth down onto his length.

"Fuck." He snarls. 

You waste no time teasing him, swallowing him deep into your throat and sucking hard, tongue sliding over the thick vein running underneath as he throbs and his hips stammer against your face. 

There's words, curses you think, in a language you don't understand falling rapidly from his lips and when your eyes flick up to him his are screwed shut, his head thrown back against the pillows, neck beautifully bared and his fingers wound so tight in the bedsheets it's only a matter of time before you hear them shred. 

His eyes snap open to stare at you when you hum in approval around him, his lips parting and a hand shooting out to tangle in your hair. He looks wrecked and it does something indescribable to your chest, your pride, when he chokes. 

"Please." 

You hum around him again and he loses his composure entirely, fisting your hair tight and rocking his hips hard and fast into the welcoming heat of your mouth. You gag slightly at the assault on your throat, thighs clenching as he hisses through his teeth at the feel of it.

You were dripping just watching him like this, every nerve alight and desperate for his touch, thighs shifting again for some kind of friction and this time, Loki notices. 

"You like this don't you, pet?" He grunts. "Fuck, I can smell you - needy little thing - let me help." 

From the corner of your eye you catch a faint glow of green and then you jolt. Lashes fluttering as you moan, helplessly overwhelmed, around his cock.

There's a pressure, some kind of energy, swirling at your cunt, the feeling of tight circles being rapidly drawn over your swollen clit driving you mad, as if he's actually dipped his own fingers inside your pants and was skillfully touching you to ruin. 

It's so much. His cock driving into your mouth whilst his magic thrums relentlessly against you. Your eyes roll back when he slows this thrusts, matching his pace to that of the phantom fingers plunging inside your walls. 

"That's it, darling." He praises breathlessly when you whine around him, eyes never leaving your face. "Want to feel you cum just like this. Taking both my cock and my seidr so well, fucking filthy little thing." 

His words strike a match that ignites something cataclysmic in your gut and you're done for. Your orgasm is cresting without hesitance, barreling towards you unapologetically fast until the muscles of your belly clench tight, the intensity making your head spin until your shuddering and moaning around his cock.

It tears a sound you've never heard in your life from Loki, something raw and wounded and so utterly blissed out shoves it's way out of his throat and then his fingers are curling almost painfully tight, yanking you down to the base of his cock as he pulses and spills hot on your tongue. 

You swallow him down the best you can before his hands are clawing at your arms, hauling you up to his chest so he can bring his frenzied mouth to yours whilst he trembles. 

"More." He bites out. 

**

Pleasure makes him burn possessive. 

It makes him roll you over and crush you with him, cage you with his body as his teeth carve marks into your skin and usually talented hands rip clumsily at your pants.  

You choke on a half shriek, half moan as he stuffs you full of his fingers - spears you open and strokes you to madness, his voice a dark, lustful whisper snaking in your ear. 

"So fucking tight, darling girl - bet that sweet little cunt looks so pretty stretched out on my fingers - be a good girl and cum for me again - cum for me and I'll give you my cock." 

God yes, you need it. You'll go fucking insane if you don't.

You think he will break you just like this, that he’ll pull another lightening sharp orgasm from you with his fingers alone, but then he's suddenly drawing them from your slick warmth. Ignoring your frustrated whine to shred the clothes from your body as if they are nothing more than paper and pressing the broad width of his shoulders between your thighs.

He shoves his face into your cunt before you can fully recover from what the sight of him between your legs does to your ego, drives his tongue through the evidence of your previous release and swallows it down with a gut wrenching moan of satisfaction. 

It is both worshipful and humbling.

He lays himself at your mercy like you are divine only to remind you that he can have you pleading and praying with a mere flick of his tongue. His fingers curling back into you whilst he seals his lips around your throbbing clit and sucks, making you buck wildly into his grinning mouth as you cry out and rake your nails across his scalp in a way that has him shuddering. 

It's rabid and feral the way he eats at you, tongue swirling wet and messy over your clit and his fingers twisting to reach a spot that has your body caving in on itself.

He thrusts knuckle deep until you're wailing. Hiccuping his name as the orgasm builds in your belly with terrifying velocity and then he's nipping at you just a little bit sharply with his teeth, offering that hint of pain that makes the pleasure burn darker, wilder, than it ever has before. 

You arch from the bed with a breathless, wounded sound, unable to scream, unravelling magnificently as he groans and licks you through your orgasm like a man that has known nothing but starvation his entire life. 

And when it has all plateaued there is nothing left but an unrepentant desire to have him entirely when he slithers back up your body, sharp features endearingly pleased and his pretty mouth still shining with your release as he pushes you back into the bed and slides his cock teasingly against your wet cunt. 

You go boneless. Pliant in a way that feels like exquisite submission, that threatens to drive Loki wild.  

Your legs part wide for him, pussy fluttering, still pulsing with aftershocks whilst he catches at your entrance and then he's pushing inside you, a guttural moan bubbling past his throat, and the blunt stretch is so fucking good that you can't breathe. So right that your mind reels with it.

He drops to kiss you as you struggle to keep your sanity, nose nudging softly, adoringly, against your own, and when he pulls back his eyes are striking. Endless pools of crystalised blue blown wide with reverence. With deep seated hunger ready to devour you whole.

You both groan as he presses the final inches inside you. 

Your legs weave around his waist so you can take him deeper and he inhales sharply, yanking himself out of you until only the thick head of his cock remains. You wonder dazedly if maybe he intends it to be a punishment, that maybe his old smugness is more intact than you thought and he intends you to beg for it, but then he's snapping back into you with a rough cant of his hips that almost winds you, splits you open with a deliciousness that has you gasping.

"Oh my god–" You whimper and it's like any semblance of restraint he was still valiantly clinging to evaporates as his entire body trembles. “Loki–you feel so–fuck–”

He buries you beneath him, snares his hand into the locks of your hair and sinks his teeth into your throat whilst he rolls his hips, grinds them in a maddening push and pull, pressing in so fucking close as if he wishes to never leave you at all.

It's like he's lost to the sensation of you, the tight warmth of your cunt and the praise that pours from your lips whilst he chases that frantic need to be sunk deep over and over. 

“I can't–I can't go easy on you–I'm sorry.” There is strain in his voice now, a lovely tortured tone, as if he was losing his head completely. 

You cling to him desperately. Nails scoring crimson lines and small crescen moon marks into the milk pale skin of his shoulders as he fucks you like he wants you to splinter, like he wants you in pieces so he can burrow among your bones and make himself a home inside you. 

He reels back suddenly, bunches his knees beneath your ass and pulls himself upright. You want to protest the loss of him but then he's grabbing your legs, hitching them higher until they're slung over his shoulders and using your thighs as an anchor to ram himself deeper, so he can punch up into the heart of you.

It's almost too much when his fingers slip to where you're joined, when he touches you, quick and unrelenting, until the pleasure is so intense there are tears of bliss gathering at the corners of your eyes. 

It's almost too much when he stares at you like he's completely enamoured and reaches for your face, thumbing away a stray tear before it can slip fully down your cheek with a tenderness that threatens to crack you open. You're whimpering, pleading with him to kiss you, to make you cum, to feel him cum inside you, and the noise he makes in retaliation is low, hungered.

"Pretty little thing, you need to cum? You want me to fill you up?" He rasps - wicked and dripping with a dark shade of longing. He tilts his hips, angles himself so his next thrust plunges into that part of you that makes your cunt spasm and a loud wail tear from your lips. "Fuck - go ahead, let me feel it, let everyone hear you make a mess all over my cock." 

His name claws out of your throat on a broken cry, the sound of it jagged, ruined, as every muscle in your body locks up tight until you're violently trembling, bursting wet around him, and everything becomes a scatter of pure pleasure and dizzying bursts of radiant light. 

It takes only moments before the same sensation hunts him so closely. Your cunt gripping him tighter, milking him, until he's snarling a punched out curse. The rising crescendo of slapping skin suddenly faltering as his deliberate pace becomes a frantic, savage thing. 

"That's it darling - my pretty little goddess - beautiful thing, all mine."  He praises before he chokes, folding himself over you and claiming your lips in a messy kiss. Devouring your mouth as you broke and broke and broke.

He ensures you are shattered entirely and only then does he allow his own devastation. His breath stuttering, voice shredding, body convulsing as he fucks you through it and growls your name, spilling, hot and deep, inside you.

**

It goes on for hours.

Until the desperation has bled from his veins and his skin has cooled to a normal temperature.

It's deep into the night when the two of you finally collapse into the sheets exhausted, the cool press of his body tangled with yours a blissful relief to both your mind and the flushed heat of your own sticky skin. 

Every inch of you is raw - littered in marks from his fingers and teeth, the phantom stretch of him still making you ache.

Loki holds you tight to him, draws you close against the sharp rise and fall of his chest and cradles your head like you're something infinitely precious. 

He doesn't speak though and you have a feeling his mind is struggling to process the sudden leap in the relationship between you, picking it apart and trying to discover what this makes you to him. 

The silence blisters and pricks at you until you can't handle it any longer and you blurt out the first thing that comes to your pleasure-addled brain.

"Well… good to know you're not going to die." 

His chest shakes lightly under your cheek and you realise he's chuckling, a soft, light sound slipping from his lips that you don't think you've ever heard from him. 

"That drug was never going to kill a god." He scoffs, trailing feather light fingertips down your arm. "But I can see how it would be dangerous for mortals, which is precisely why I insisted on taking your place." 

Wait–

What. 

You lurch up and twist in his hold to look at him, his eyes, guarded and hesitant,  as he watches you and attempts to gauge your reaction. 

"You took my place to protect me?" You whisper, inhaling a sharp breath he nods. 

There's something blooming in your chest, something you don't want to look at too closely so soon, something that bloomed also when he called you his. But as soft as his gesture makes you, it also bothers another part of you, the part of you that is an avenger and more than capable of dealing with dangerous situations. 

You tell him as much and he grumbles. 

Something along the lines of. "Do you really expect me to stand by and let something happen to you if I can prevent it? I don't want to see you hurt and mortals are so -" 

He doesn't get to finish before you're planting your hands firm against his cool chest and growling. "If you say fragile or weak, I swear I will ruin this otherwise sweet moment and punch you in that perfect face." 

His eyes narrow, glinting dark and tempting, and his voice drops to a wisp of coiling smoke.

"You can try, darling." 

God, is he really trying to seduce you again. 

"Stop trying to distract me." You swat at him angrily. "Next time just come along and work the mission with me, don't get me taken off. Deal?" 

He watches you for a moment, arches a brow at the way you glare at him before huffing. "I suppose." 

There's barely any time for you to grin smugly at your victory before he's hauling you down and rolling you beneath him, his razor sharp smile gleaming above you as his eyes pitch dark once more. 

"Now, how about we seal our little deal." 

[p0orbaby]

Do Not Disturb (Unless You're Drunk and Nosy)

summary: privacy? you wish

warnings: suggestive, alcohol, literally everyone being a little shit, angry ale (hot)

a/n: may or may not be inspired by real events…

word count: 1.6k

-

You always thought getting walked in on would be, you know, mortifying. Like, your face turns tomato red, you start stammering, and then you spend the rest of your life avoiding the person who caught you with your pants down—literally. But it turns out that, in reality, it’s way worse than that.

Here’s the thing: Alexia Putellas is perfect. You know this, because you’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time cataloging her perfections. Her perfectly toned legs that could crush a coconut. Her perfectly sharp jawline that could carve Mount Rushmore. Her perfectly soft lips that could silence an entire stadium with a single kiss. And when you’re drunk at a friends house party, it’s easy to forget that this perfection isn’t something you should casually indulge in right now, in a random upstairs bedroom, while everyone else is downstairs playing beer pong and comparing their World Cup tattoos.

But when Alexia grabs your hand and drags you away from the chaos, her eyes all dark and dangerous, any rational thought you have dribbles out of your ears like last week’s gossip. So here you are, in this bed—well, on this bed, because you didn’t even make it all the way under the covers—desperately trying to remember how to breathe while Alexia’s tongue is doing things that would make a priest reconsider his career choices.

You’re about to reach the kind of nirvana people write songs about when the door slams open. Not opens—slams. As if someone was just waiting for the right moment to ruin your life.

“Oh my God,” someone says in a tone that suggests they’ve just witnessed a murder, except, of course, that would be preferable.

Alexia’s head snaps up so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash, and you have about two seconds to see the wild panic in her eyes before her entire body goes rigid like a cat that’s just been sprayed with water. She’s still on top of you, which would be hot if you weren’t currently wondering whether you’re legally obligated to register as a sex offender for being caught like this.

And who’s standing there in the doorway? None other than Jenni, who you’re pretty sure was voted “Most Likely to Show Up Uninvited” in high school. She’s holding a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand and a phone in the other, like she’s been documenting the worst possible moments of the night, and this one’s going to top the list.

“Holy shit,” Jenni says, blinking as if she’s trying to reboot her brain. It doesn’t work, because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

That’s it. You’re going to die. This is how you die. Not from the embarrassment but because Alexia is going to murder you both. You can see it in her eyes. She’s doing some very fast maths in her head, and it ends with Jenni’s body floating down a river somewhere.

“Close the door,” Alexia snaps, and it’s the first thing she’s said in what feels like hours. Her voice is sharp enough to cut glass. Jenni just stares at her for a moment, then at you—still half-naked, because of course you are—and then at Alexia again, like she’s debating whether the smart move is to leave or to stay and further ruin your life.

But of course, Jenni’s never been one for smart moves.

“Oh, no, no, no,” she says, waving her tequila bottle around like it’s a magic wand that’s going to make this situation less awkward. “This is gold. I’ve got to tell the others.” She turns around and yells down the stairs, “Hey, guys! Get up here, quick!”

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to crawl under the bed and maybe live there forever with the dust bunnies and whatever sock the last person to use this room lost. But you don’t get the chance to do any of that, because Alexia has now flipped the fuck out, and she’s off the bed and across the room in a flash, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

“Are you insane?” Alexia hisses at Jenni, who looks like she’s genuinely surprised that Alexia isn’t finding this whole situation hilarious. “Do you have a death wish?”

Jenni, who’s clearly never learned to read the room, just grins, leaning against the doorframe like she’s auditioning for the role of “World’s Biggest Pain in the Ass.” “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who decided to get frisky in someone else’s house”

You’re still lying there, half-dressed, your shirt tangled up with some lacy thing that definitely belongs to Alexia, watching the two of them bicker like you’re not even here. You could say something, of course. You could try to diffuse the situation, maybe crack a joke or two, but that would require actual brain function, and right now, all you’ve got is the mental equivalent of elevator music.

Alexia’s about to bite Jenni’s head off—probably literally—when, as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with your current level of humiliation, there’s a knock on the door.

“Jenni? What’s going on?” You recognise that voice. It’s Mapi, followed by a snicker from Patri and what sounds like Ingrid trying and failing to shush them. Great. Just great. Now you’ve got an audience.

Before anyone can react, Jenni swings the door open with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to introduce a sold-out concert, and your teammates spill into the room like they’ve been rehearsing this all night.

“What the—” Mapi starts, then stops dead when she sees you, then Alexia, and then your clothes all over the floor like some kind of chaotic breadcrumb trail. Her eyebrows shoot up so high they practically disappear into her hairline. “Oh, wow”

There’s a moment of silence that’s so uncomfortable you could bottle it and sell it to masochists. You’re pretty sure you’re about to melt into the bed and become one with the mattress. Meanwhile, Patri has the audacity to wolf whistle, which earns her a glare from Alexia that could stop a freight train.

“So,” Ingrid says, doing a terrible job at hiding her amusement. “This is…unexpected”

“Unexpected?” Mapi echoes, looking at Ingrid like she’s just suggested that the earth is flat. “This is fucking hilarious”

Jenni’s practically doubled over with laughter now, leaning on Mapi for support, which only sets her off too. Pretty soon, all three of them are giggling like schoolgirls who’ve just found out their teacher’s dating the P.E. teacher.

Alexia is standing there, jaw clenched, probably wondering if anyone would notice if she threw them all out the window. You, meanwhile, have reached a state of embarrassment that transcends space and time. You’re floating above the situation, looking down at your life and wondering where it all went so horribly, horribly wrong.

“Can we not make a big deal out of this?” you ask, even though you know it’s hopeless. “It’s not like we were…” You trail off, realizing that there’s no good way to end that sentence. Not like you were what? Sorting laundry? Rearranging the furniture?

“Having sex?” Patri supplies helpfully, still grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “You totally were. We walked in at the good part, didn’t we?”

Alexia makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat, which is probably the only thing that stops her from committing actual homicide. “Out. All of you. Now”

But no one moves. Because why would they? They’re having the time of their lives. Jenni’s already pulling out her phone, probably to tweet something like “Just walked in on the most awkward team bonding experience ever #FML”

“We’re not going to let you live this down, you know,” Mapi says, her smirk so wide it’s a wonder her face doesn’t split in half. “This is going to be the story we tell at every team event from now until the end of time”

“Your kids are going to hear about this,” Patri adds, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “Hell, your grandkids. This is legendary”

You’re going to need therapy after this. Maybe a lot of therapy. But, honestly, that’s future you’s problem. Right now, you just want them to leave so you can salvage whatever dignity you have left and maybe finish what you started with Alexia—assuming, of course, that this hasn’t killed the mood entirely.

Finally, because even she knows when enough is enough, Jenni straightens up and nods toward the door. “Alright, alright. We’ll give you two lovebirds some privacy.” She winks at Alexia, who looks like she might actually be considering taking up a new sport just to avoid ever having to see Jenni again. “But don’t take too long. We’re going to need the play-by-play downstairs”

With that, they finally—finally—file out of the room, still snickering and whispering like they’ve just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the century. As the door closes behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Well,” you say, turning to look at Alexia, who’s now standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “That went as good as expected”

She gives you a look that could freeze hell, but then, after a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We are never doing this again”

“Sex?” you ask, and the horrified expression that crosses her face makes you burst out laughing. “In someone else’s house,” you clarify, still giggling. “I think that’s a solid rule”

She rolls her eyes but then moves back toward the bed, a mischievous glint in her eyes that tells you maybe the night isn’t entirely ruined after all. “Well, we’re here now,” she says, climbing onto the mattress and pulling you toward her. “Might as well make the most of it”

[artificial-transmutations]

The Last Chance!

My head was throbbing, and lights danced in front of me. Distorted music was blaring and for a moment, I felt like throwing up. When my sight cleared a bit, I could see a slim metal lectern in front of me and grabbed it to stabilize myself. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, the nausea subsided enough to look around. I was not alone, far from it. I was bathed in bright lights from above and from the sides, and I had to squint to be able to discern my surroundings. There were three more lecterns, arranged in a half circle, and behind that, three more people who didn't look any better than I felt.

In the middle of the circle, there was a big leather chair that was currently empty. Still, most of the lights - artificial lights, headlights - were directed at the empty chair. To all sides, behind the big island of brightness, I could see grandstands with people in the dark, producing a constant loud chattering noise. The room was huge, but had, apparently, no windows.

Even though I've never been in one, it looked a lot like a TV studio to me. The setup looked like a game show of sorts, which means the empty chair was for the host, and I was at one of the contestant's spots.

Which brought me back to the most pressing question: How the hell did I get here?

Let's see, what do I remember... I am Evan, kindergarten teacher, 32 years old, and...

Right. I wasn't very well right now. My boyfriend broke up with me, it was pretty ugly, and then, I went to a bar. I was pretty drunk, but I think I remember leaving the bar again, in the middle of the night and then...

No, total blackout. Nothing that could explain how I got into a TV studio.

I looked at the other contestants, who seemed to be in various states of confusion as well. At the front of the lecterns, I could read their names:

Right next to me, there was Victoria. She looked like a librarian, or a secretary of some sorts. Pretty unremarkable. She seemed perhaps the least uncomfortable and eyed the rest of us with sharp intelligent eyes, nodding slightly as she caught my gaze.

Then, there was Lucas. He looked like he worked as a security guard, or maybe a bouncer, but not one for an exclusive club. His face was broad and his jaw strong and adorned with a goatee, and he wore a tight t-shirt and loose cargo pants. His posture was intimidating, but his eyes were friendly, if perhaps a bit simple.

At the far end, behind the lectern was Blake. He looked a bit like a teacher or a scientist, to be honest. He was slim and tall, had a brown pony tail and wore pretty unfashionable clothes.

For the sake of completion, my own name read "Evan", as expected. I was a pretty normal guy, wearing jeans and t-shirt. I was quite average looking, neither very good nor very bad, and had a bit of a tummy. In short, a very typical guy.

When I looked up again, there was suddenly a man sitting in the chair, wearing a fancy suit, looking into the cameras with a wide smile. I was sure I had not seen him entering, which seemed strange.

Immediately, the chattering from the audience ceased, and the man, who must have been the host, began to speak. So much for trying to escape the situation before the show started.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and all creatures! Welcome to this wonderful, bombastic, extraordinary episode of 'The last chance'! I'm your host, the magnificent Mr. Mephistolon."

There was a moment of applause and cheering from the dark grandstands, before the man continued. What an odd introduction! Being inclusive is good and all, but 'all creatures'?

"And today, we have our best contestants ever. Give me a cheer for Blake, Lucas, Victoria and Evan!"

Again, there was some applause, which was nice, but I was still confused. What kind of game show was this?

"The rules are simple! Here at 'The last chance', everything is possible. In three exciting elimination rounds, our contestants will fight for the grand mystery prize. You, the audience will vote after each round who you like the least, and the one with the most votes has to leave, never to be seen again."

I decided I didn't like the humor of the host very much, but the explanation continued.

"Whoever survives the third round is the winner of tonight's show! They will receive the grand mystery prize"

He held up a sealed red envelope.

"And, of course, gets to go home."

It would probably have been funnier if I remembered how I got here. The charming host made it sound like we were kidnapped, but that was hardly possible, not on live TV. So, it was probably just a joke.

"But! How can you sway the audience to not vote you out, you ask? What is the game, you want to know? It's easy! In each round, each and every one of you gets a spin on our wheel of fortune. In addition, you will be dealt three cards. In every round, you must use whatever the wheel shows and one of your cards to *change* yourself and one other contestant of your choice. It doesn't matter who you choose for what, as long as one change applies to yourself and one to another one. And remember: All changes are always permanent!"

The host chuckled as if his last statement was especially funny. I didn't quite understand what 'changes' he meant, but the rest was pretty clear.

As soon as the host finished explaining, a gorgeous woman with a long flowing dress and a big deck of cards approached us. Her eyes sparkled, and her skin was smooth, and the long dress made it look like she had a tail under it. She gave every one of us contestants three cards. Mine read "Masculine", with a big blue mars symbol on it, "Submissive", depicting a figure looking down at their feet, and "Chubby", a pink pudgy figure.

After we had a moment to look at our cards, the host spoke up again.

"And without further ado, let's get started! This round begins with..."

The drum rolls in the background sounded very stereotypical.

"Victoria! Ladies first!"

With a fanfare, a big wheel of fortune was unveiled, and set into motion with one swift motion from Mr. Mephistolon. I couldn't make out what the labels on the wheel said until it slowed down and landed on the symbol of a large eggplant. It read "hung".

It had to be one of these late-night game shows with a sexual edge to it. I didn't feel very comfortable.

"Alright, Victoria! The wheel shows 'hung'. You need to choose one of your cards, and then apply both changes, one to you, and one to another contestant!"

The woman studied her cards carefully before choosing one. She held it up and smiled.

"Okay. I pick this card here for myself. It says: 'Big-Chested'. And I'll apply 'hung' to..."

She looked around her three male contestants before finally settling on me. "Evan!"

"Alright, a good choice, Victoria! Remember, the changes will apply after everyone has chosen. Let's continue with Lucas!"

The wheel spun and landed on the picture of a pink, hairless arm, which said "Smooth".

Lucas had looked into his cards up until here and scratched his head.

"Okay, so we're supposed to be nice to each other, right? Okay, so, I... Can I give both to the other guys?"

"I'm sorry Lucas, but the rules are that you have to change yourself as well!" The host smiled with endless professional patience.

"Oh, okay." The guy really wasn't all too bright.

"Then... I take 'smooth' for myself and give Victoria my 'Slim'. That works, right?"

"Yes, Lucas, that's possible! Great job!" The host cheered before looking at Blake and spinning the wheel. It finally settled on "Nerdy", adorned with a pair of glasses.

Blake's eyes darted between his cards and the rest of us. Finally, he decided.

"Okay, I don't think we're supposed to be nice to each other, here. At least, I only have rather negative cards. Since I have to play one on myself, I choose 'Dominant'". He held up a card showing a figure with held up high head and a broad stance.

"And the 'nerdy' from the wheel goes to... Lucas."

The audience murmured and the host nodded approvingly.

"It seems like you have understood pretty quickly! Alright! Let's get to our last one for this round. Evan!"

He set the wheel in motion, and I watched until it stopped at the picture of a broad chest, reading 'muscular'. I looked down on my cards. So, even if I didn't understand the whole 'change' part, it was obvious I should give positive things to myself and negative things to other people. The wheel showed 'muscular', which was obviously positive, and 'masculine' in my hand was positive as well. So, I needed to choose between 'submissive' and 'chubby'. The thought of the big bouncer having the 'submissive' card was pretty hilarious, so I decided on that.

"I'll take 'muscular' for myself and give my 'submissive' to Lucas." I announce.

"Great choices, all around. Alright. So, we get to the changes! Victoria, you got 'Big-Chested' from yourself, and 'slim' from Lucas. Let's see how you look like!"

Whatever I expected, it was not that. Before my very eyes, Victoria's modest breasts swelled until her blouse was bursting. Her body lost any excess fat, and her hips became narrower as well, forming a perfect hourglass shape. If I had been straight, I would have surely started to drool.

"Very nice! Now, let's see the guys. Lucas! You have your own 'smooth', and Blake's 'nerdy' as well as Evan's 'submissive'. Quite a lot, if you ask me!"

As expected, Lucas lost all body hair, except his head and face. Then, his eyebrows thinned out and his nose grew a bit more pronounced. I thought I heard the word 'sissy' being called from the audience. A thick pair of glasses snapped into existence, and his clothing shifted to an awkward, nerdy look. And something seemed to happen behind his eyes. Where before, he looked the host in the eye, he suddenly looked at his shoes.

"I'm sorry, master." He muttered.

"What was that, Lucas?" The host asked, smiling.

"I'm sorry, Master. I don't deserve to look into your eyes." Laughter from the audience.

Lucas was still pretty broad, but his new posture and clothing veiled that pretty well. He looked pathetic all in all.

"Alright, Lucas. Let's switch to Blake. Here, we have your own 'Dominant' and... That’s it! Your antagonists decided to go easy on you, as it seems."

The shift in Blake's demeanor was subtle. His body stayed the same, but his posture changed, as he spread his legs a bit wider and raised his shoulders. His facial expression shifted, and I was sure to see traces of cruelty or arrogance in it, now.

"Aaand, finally. Evan. 'Muscular' from yourself and 'hung' from Victoria. Seems like the other contestants like you, Evan!"

Victoria, the new, busty, Victoria leaned over and smiled as she whispered: "You're welcome."

Suddenly, my body felt tingly and weird all over. I watched in a mix of amazement and horror, as my muscles grew all over the place, quickly filling out my clothes that shifted subtly to make way for the new bulges.

The crowd cheered, and I looked at them for a moment. Then, I was distracted by a feeling in my groin. It took all my self-control not to check with my hands, but I could clearly see the bulge of my cock grow in my pants. I wasn't getting hard - although the feeling was pretty erotic - but my dick was just quickly gaining size, until the bulge was clearly visible through my pants now. I could even see the soft rod hanging down one leg and make out the shape of my balls. With my head red, I stepped closer to the lectern.

"That's all changes for round 1!" The host announced. "And it's time to say goodbye to one of our contestants now. Please, cast your vote."

While the audience voted, I looked around. Busty Victoria was probably pretty safe, as was I - I didn't have a mirror, but I must have looked pretty good. If the audience voted by looks - which I suspected - then it would either hit Blake or Lucas. Since Blake had changed the least, he was probably the most boring one, so I suspected he would be voted out.

It was Lucas, by a small margin.

"Well, then, Lucas! Here goes your 'Last Chance'!" The host smiled, a smile I would describe as cruel, and all of a sudden, a flame shot up where Lucas had been standing just a few moments ago. When the flame was gone, so was Lucas. Wow. That was either a pretty cool special effect or... No, it was a special effect.

As the host turned to Victoria again, I got the feeling this game show was more serious than I thought.

The wheel stopped at the word 'needy'. Victoria looked into her cards and whispered to me: "Let's work together this round."

Since the spot next to her was empty, I was the only one she could whisper to, even though I must have been the bigger threat in her eyes. Her plan was to concentrate on Blake this round and then eliminate me in the next.

"I give 'Needy' to Blake, and I'll take..." She flashed a smile to the audience. "'Big Behind'" The card showed the rather unsubtle outline of a large ass. Victoria was *dangerous*. She had adapted lightning fast and knew how to manipulate the audience.

Blake looked at her with contempt, possibly due to his new dominant demeanor, until the wheel stopped in front of him. It showed a naked male chest, heavily adorned with tattoos.

"Oookay. I take 'Tattooed' from the wheel for myself, and I play this card on Evan."

My heart sunk as he produced a card showing a naked figure that read 'Exhibitionistic'. Crap. The smile in Blake's face was cold. He, too, was dangerous. And from his announcement in the first round, I knew he had more negative cards in his hand.

"So, Evan, take your pick."

I hadn't even realized that the wheel had already stopped, and I looked at it quickly. It showed a pelt of hair on a breast and read 'hairy'. I quickly looked down on my cards. I had 'masculine' and 'chubby'. It was probably a good idea to keep chubby for the last round, so I had to play 'masculine'. The apparent solution was to play it on myself and give 'hairy' to Blake, if I wanted to do what Victoria suggested. However, hairy probably wouldn't hurt Blake much, and neither would 'masculine'. I could sacrifice my 'chubby', but then I'd probably lose the next round for sure. I pondered. No, Victoria was more dangerous. I could play 'hairy' on her... But wait! She was slim and busty, and she was about to give herself a big ass. Combined with hairy, that would be strange, but what if I took out her feminine advantage?

"I take 'hairy' for myself." I began. It didn't make much difference if I was hairy or not. "And I play 'masculine' on Victoria."

The audience went crazy as Victoria's transformation began. Her ass ballooned out, making her even more beautiful by heterosexual standards for a second. But that changed when her body shifted and crossed the gender boundary quickly. A bulge formed both in her throat and in her groin, and her clothes shifted to a masculine style. However, just as I had planned, she still had the other traits. Her - no, his - chest formed decidedly male but rather big man-tits, and his ass was fat. The rest of him, however, including the arms and legs, were thin and slim, looking decidedly grotesque on his male frame.

"I guess we should call you 'Victor' now" smiled the host before the attention shifted towards Blake.

"Let's see how Blake looks after his new changes: 'Tattooed' and 'Needy'".

Blake's skin quickly filled with ink, giving the man an even more dangerous aura. For a moment, I was afraid that Blake would get a stronger position due to his changes, but then, a loud moan came out of his mouth.

"Please! I need someone to..." he was confused as hell, I could see that, as his dominant and his needy side came to a weird compromise.

"... to order to fuck my hole. Please!"

The audience erupted in laughter, and even the host had to smile. It was pitiful.

"And now for Evan."

Crap, what were my changes again? I had completely forgotten that I was being changed as well.

"Let's give you... 'hairy' and 'exhibitionistic'!"

Fuck, and it was all negative. I looked down on my muscular body and I could see body hair growing in, all over my exposed arms and legs, even some in my face. However, the worst was yet to come.

My mind was filled with an overwhelming need. I *had* to show off my body. I *had* to put it on display for everyone to see. Accompanied by the laughter of the audience, I pulled off my shirt and exposed my furry, muscular chest for everyone to see. It felt good, but I wasn't finished. Next, the shoes, socks and pants came off. My underwear was filled to the brim with my large cock, and a thick bush of hair erupted from it as well. And my underwear got even tighter as I felt the rush of satisfaction it gave me to expose myself like that. I could stop now, I probably had enough self-control. However, I hesitated. It was all about the audience vote, right? Perhaps I had better chances if I played the role, to the end. So, I hooked both my thumbs into my strained boxer shorts and, with a quick motion, pulled them off, freeing the absolute python of my semi-hard cock. I even took a few steps back from my lectern, so everyone could see me in all of my hairy, muscular glory.

The audience went wild. With some satisfaction, I noticed that almost no one voted me out. Instead, most of the votes fell on Blake.

"So long, Blake!" said the host, and Blake, too, disappeared in a sudden flame.

"Seems like it's just Victor and Evan left. Let's see who survives this round and takes the grand mystery prize home! Let me spin the wheel for Victor!"

The wheel slowed down on the sweaty face emoticon. However, it didn't read 'sweaty', but instead 'horny'. Victor smiled and shot me an apologetic look.

"Sorry, big guy, but that's it for you. Let's see how needy you get. I choose 'horny' for Evan and for me... 'Charming'". The new man produced his last card, which showed a handsome prince. Crap. That was a good combination.

I looked down at my 'chubby' card, and only as the wheel stopped, I realized my mistake. I had kept the strongest negative card until the end, but I didn't anticipate that the wheel might *also* show something negative. I stared at the head-scratching figure on the wheel and the word below that. 'Dumb'. Shit.

What were my options? I could give myself chubby and Victor dumb. Perhaps, hopefully, chubby wouldn't look too bad on my muscled body, but it hardly mattered if Victor was dumb or not. Charme worked regardless of intelligence.

Then again, I could give Victor 'chubby', which would probably work well in making him even less attractive and grotesque. But that would mean I'd have to take 'dumb'. And all changes were permanent, the host had said so.

I thought back to the flame effect that had consumed Blake and Lucas. No, I had to win this, no matter the cost.

I forced a smile for the audience. "Perfect!" I exclaimed. "I'm big all over already, and hairy and naked. So, I'll gladly take the 'dumb' - make me a real himbo!"

I didn't want to be 'a real himbo', for sure, but it might still be better than the alternative. And it would fit into the 'horny' I was about to get.

"And Victor gets my last card: 'Chubby'!"

His eyes went wide, as he suddenly wasn't so sure of his victory anymore. And really, he immediately began to change. His thin body got softer and rounder, especially his stomach and butt. Even his man-tits grew even larger. However, at the same time, his face grew a well-groomed beard, and his eyes got a sparkle to it. Even though his form was bloated, he still looked nice enough. Fuck.

Then, all eyes went to me. I closed my eyes as Mr. Mephistolon announced my changes. 'Dumb' and 'Horny'. No bodily changes, thankfully. My body was still glorious and on full display. The first effect I felt was in my groin again. I grew hot and flustered, and my previously semi-hard cock quickly expanded into its full length, hard and throbbing, pointing directly ahead. That wasn't bad, I had to admit. As I was leaking precum on the floor, I enjoyed the attention of my body on display like that, and there was certainly a lot to see. But the next change hit my mind. My thoughts felt sluggish and slow. It was as if the gears in my head were covered in syrup or mud. Or that other thing, what was it... Cum, right. I had to grin dumbly. Yeah, my thoughts were slow as if they went through cum. That thought amused me and distracted me for longer than I would have been comfortable to admit before. But now, I just didn't care. When I opened my eyes again, all higher intellect was gone, and I was just happy for all the attention and was feeling horny. Well, I was always feeling horny, right? Automatically, my large right hand gripped my fuckstick and I started to slowly stroke it, while smearing precum into the pelt on my chest with the left one. The audience cheered.

"Alright, here are the final votes!", the host announced, ripping my attention momentarily from my own body.

"It seems like, with a *very* narrow margin, Victor has lost this round."

I looked at him quizzically. Was that good?

"That means Evan wins tonight's show!"

The audience went wild and clapped, and I felt happy. Apparently, I had done something right!

"Congratulations, Evan! Now, let's see what tonight's grand mystery prize is."

With a big gesture, the host opened the envelope and read out the contents.

"The winner - that's you, Evan - gets to transform the host freely, to his liking. Now that's something we haven't seen in this show for a long time!"

Even though that meant I was allowed to change him to my whim, Mr. Mephistolon didn't seem unhappy. Instead, he licked his lips.

"Go on then, Evan! What do you want to change about me?"

"Uhhh..."

I thought hard about it.

"Make you... Make you big. Big and... strong. But not as strong as me. More like lean, but sturdy. I still want to be the one to fuck you. And... uh, make you... Make you have big dick and big balls."

I was a bit confused about the last two points. My mind had trouble thinking, but I also had a big dick and big balls, and those were good, right? So, I wanted them for him, too.

"Alright, let's see what Evan gets."

I watched curiously as Mr. Mephistolon slowly began to change.

He gained muscles, but nothing like I had. He stayed rather thin, but his arms, chest and abs looked very nice. His feet grew, and lean muscle set in, making him able to withstand a lot of force when I would pound his hole, later. I could hardly wait and was stroking my cock again.

As expected, his cock and balls swelled, and grew hairy. He was not as hung as me, but that was probably good. After all, he wouldn't really need his cock, his ass was the important part.

After his transformation was finished, I saw him look at his new body and his cock, and then into the crowd, before his eyes landed on me.

"Well then, that's all for tonight, folks! I guess I'm going home with Evan now!"

And with the last round of applause, our surroundings shifted until I was in my apartment again. Still the same bull of a man, with my target right in front of me. I licked my lips as I approached the host. I would fuck him silly, that's for sure.

[immortalityforthegoddess]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Alright this is what everyone voted for! Baek sang will be next 🦈

W A R N I N G S • NSFW • SFW • Manipulation • Jinrang Gang • Soft Jinrang • Possessive • And more!

• Jinrang is very welled mannered but swears like a sailer

• Jinrang is a very quiet man because he doesn't see the use of talking so much. Of course that doesn't go for you, you have a reasoning! Keep him intertaned.

• Your friends/family were shocked to meet Jinrang. He's literally a fucking tank. Your family has wanted to meet the man that buys you diamonds like they are just an every other day gift, but Lord.

• Your friends/family probably didn't know how to act, with jinrang being so quiet but his presence having so much power and authority.

• Jinrang, on the other hand, wasn't fazed at all. He was his normal chill, calm, laid-back self.

• Imagine your friends/family shocked when they learned of who he is. King of Busan.

• Jinrang wouldn't really have a 'type' mainly because he doesn't like labels.

• When you're in a relationship with Jinrang, then it has to be official; like I said, man doesn't like labels. But! Whenever he says you're his, it's not a label, it's simply a fact.

• When you first move in together, he makes it clear that rent, bills and food are all on him and that's final.

• Jinrang would differently be the type who doesn't care if you work or not but makes it known that your paycheck goes to you and you only. When you live together, he pays for everything.

• Jinrang is the type to let you decorate the house however you like, as long as it feels like home to you.

• He would 100% be a workaholic but always tried to make time for you as well.

• You're married to the king of Busan, the Jinrang gang are your besties. Baek sang and you fight for the attention of jinrang a lot even though he is YOUR husband.

• Jinrang is the type to just stare you down when a fight occurs between you two and than just walk away. He's not being rude, he just thinks you need space!

• Jinrang rarely ever wears ties because they make him feel suffocated. But will wear one if you beg enough.

• Jinrang will comfort you when your upset by simply sitting there quietly and listening to you. If your to the point of snacking and hyper ventilating than he'll sit you on his lap and just hold you.

• when you're on your period and are having bad cramps, he'll try and help by offering sex, he had red something about sex being the most accurate thing when it came to getting rid of cramps, if you refuse than he'll by you lots of medicine and chocolate.

• Jinrang is a very overprotective person when it comes to his crew and family. You being his wife, that especially extends to you; he won't let you leave the house by yourself after 8:00; when he leaves for business, and you can't come, there will always be someone from the Jinrang gang there to check up on you.

• he enjoys it when you and his pack get along. It's like a sigh of relief when he sees how well you fit in. His crew is his pack, his family so yes, they do mean a lot to him.

• Jinrang gets jealous. It's not that he doesn't trust you, it's that he doesn't trust the world.

• While he had never not wanted kids, he also has never seen himself having kids. Due to his past and all his trauma he more than likely say yes to have kids like it's nothing but inside he is freaking out, wondering how to be the best father he could be.

- 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 -

• Jinrang is very gentail in bed. Well...as gentail as he can be, being built like a tank and having the cock size of nearly your forearm.

• Jinrang tries his best not to get needy or too hard, he knows that the after math of him filling up your insides are are painful to say the least, not to mention you can't walk for literal days. And even than a limp is clear as day.

• Jinrang is always at least half hard, you found it's just his nature. Plus, it's not his fault; look at you.

• Jinrang isn't one to use dildos or anything of the sort. Won't need a machine when he has a monster in his pants. (Sorry not sorry 😎)

• While Jinrang doesn't like getting anything other than you and him involved in bed, he doesn't mind when you wear lingerie. He finds it sexy.

• He enjoys moments when during sex, your so cock drunk you can only say his name.

• He's found himself getting hard all over again after sex when he sees you gentaily rubbing your sore, swollen private parts.

• If you're on your period and having bad cramps, and you do say yes to sex, he'll be so gentle and soft. Use your period blood as lube for when he enters.

• He very much loves when he can just eat you out. You on your back, legs up and around his shoulders, as his head is in between your legs, licking, biting, sucking your needy and wet folds. Gentail kisses around your entrance and on it.

• Jinrang LOVES your boobs. They're like big soft pillows. He enjoys sucking and biting your poor nipples. Leaving dark hickeys and bit marks along your them.

• Jinrang hates being interrupted during sex. One time, your friend called while he was balls deep inside of you; he proceeded to answer the call, then started pounding into you while holding the phone in his hand near you, making you scream and cry his name over and over until you orgasmed on call. Your friend was very traumatized, to say the least.

• Jinrang would be the type to manipulate his spouse into doing what he wants. You don't want sex? He's been away for so long, all he asks is for a bit of love but in a more nonchalant type of way.

• Jinrang is just as possive as he is protective. Your his to protect, provide and care for in any means necessary. So in bed he makes sure your needs and wants are always met no matter how needy he may be.

• The aftercare is very good. Cuddles, bath, more cuddles. He is very sweet and makes sure you have everything you want. He'll bring you snacks and rub your sore legs.

• he'll literally do anything for you. It doesn't matter if he is tired or anything; your wish is his command.

• overall, Jinrang and his past trauma would try very hard to take care of you, but also, sure, you didn't feel like you were on a leash. His crew/pack also approved of you which calmed his nerves a lot.

[maddragon15]

Obscenely late hermitaday day #23 & 25! - Impulse & Tango

Was this meant to be a simple cel shaded drawing on the 30th? Yeah, yeah it was lmao but somehow the power of fire excels at overtaking the rendering capabilities.

But since it's late I'll use this as excuse to ramble below about well, the headcanons and the process down yonder. Also there's variations.

(Also just realized that the compression is high with this one, please click on it to see the details pretty pleasee)

So! Let's talk about that haircut shall we? First off Tango's haircut is basically just me slapping my very neglected oc's haircut onto him lol. There's no function usage or any other lore about it, literally just I wanted to use that haircut more. But Miners and Crafters that's not all! The intensity of the flame actually has meaning believe it or not.

Since Tango in the headcanons is already a nether born blaze hybrid the redstone kinda didn't have an effect on him. This is because blazes produce glowstone which is a power source onto itself. He gets minor effects instead which is a mild (there's literally no other word) high, a intensified hair flame and a brighter eye night shine. Negative effects include mild joint & jaw pain, and a small localized headache behind the left eye.

I like to imagine that other blaze hybrids' hair flame aren't normally that intense, not white-hot heat but rather more red n orange hot similar to the flats. Mainly due to the fact that glowstone is not as powerful as redstone and it's also dependent on how strong a blaze is. Now imagine with me that blazes determine how strong each other are via the color they're emitting. Now remember the blaze boss Minecraft had a vote on to add or not to add? What if Tango is constantly mistaken as a high ranking blaze because of how intense his fire is and he doesn't get attacked a whole lot except for the few that want to challenge him. Meanwhile Tango is just highly infused with redstone like all the other redstoners and he doesn't know what's happening half time as seen by his terrified scream-laughs /hj

He's also semi modified with redstone for the pure purpose of comms just like the other redstoners minus mumbo. I also would've leaned into the steampunk aspect of this season but I figured I'd do a character sheet like etho for all of the redstoners and finalize the aspects on those.

Onto Impulse!

I like to imagine that Impulse was a regular human and over the course of redstone exposure he gained pointed ears and horns. For what reasons? I have no idea but redstone works in mysterious ways and mutates on whatever happens to be in their system. You may see that he has purple lines across his face but then red pupils, why is that? Well since he's cyperpunk themed this season he modified his redstone implants to be rgb. He can change everything else except his pupils because those are deeply affected by redstone and would require surgery to remove the build up of redstone. Will any of the redstoners ever actually get rid of it? No but you can beg all day.

You also might be wondering what's happening in their ears? Well those are the advanced comms that are actually used across all hermits except the ones who've opted out for glowstone variants. They kinda work like bluetooth except more hermit-magic way. I haven't had time to fully think of how it'd work down to the circuitry (that's my usual process for headcanons before I ship them out) but I'll post about it when I think of the full layout. Other design aspects on impulse are derived from his skin and the poster design by applestruda!

Process wise for this piece was kinda a rollercoaster heh. I had started this piece a while ago (can't remember the day on the dot) and then I got insanely busy during the last week of hermitaday. I had done sketch, refined sketch and flats in two days. Then events proceeded forth and we arrive on the 4th which I tried for an entire day to figure out how to render this piece. I then gave up and tried again the day after and pulled up references this round on Pinterest. Tango was surprisingly easy to paint with ref and went rather fast. I will admit the entire time I was rendering him I did say every minute or so "I love you man" because he was turning out so good. Halfway through I then realized I still had to render Impulse. That's when I pretty much ended that night because it was already 5 am working on Tango and demotivation was setting in fast. The next day I was able to continue with hesitancy on Impulse but I managed to keep on keeping on and in the early hours of today I finished up the piece. Where I'm now writing about it close to 2 pm in a restaurant. Man though it was kinda hard to make Impulse and Tango look like cohesive and as if they were painted together.

Enjoy!

(Side note I applied for inprint and if I am to be accepted this will be available along side the three different eefs I've drawn and doc.)

[pannman]

Teaching Alastor video games again featuring the rest of the hotel: among us

Reader: okay so Alastor is very new to this but I've been teaching him games for a while so just you know... be nice everyone

Angel: Oh sure I'll be super nice

Vaggie: Angel...

Angel: WHAT? I said I'll be super nice!?!

Husk: so I've never played this either what exactly do we do?

Reader: almost everyone is a crewmate and must get their tasks done before everyone is killed. 1 or 2 people depending on the number of people playing are secretly imposters who's goal is to kill everyone without getting caught. If you call a meeting or report a body found we then turn on our mics and discuss it before deciding who to vote off if anybody.

Vaggie: yeah Unless your dead then stay on mute. Crewmates win if we vote off all imposters or complete our tasks before imposters kill all but 2 or 1 of us

Lucifer: so how do I know if I'M the imposter?

Reader: it'll tell you at the beginning. Also the imposter has fake tasks they can pretend to be doing and they can do special things like sabatage the ship or use the vents to move far away quickly

Husk: Alright I think I got it

Charlie: Oh this is so exciting! Let's get started

Angel is a crewmate doing his tasks and Niffty keeps following him around*

Angel to himself: I can't tell if she's an imposter or just being creepy

Angel comes across Charlie's body and reports it*

All mics except Charlie's turn on*

Vaggie: ALRIGHT WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKERS DID IT!?!

Angel: What? how do we know it wasn't you?

Vaggie: I was with Husk in Med Bay!

Husk: that's true she was

Angel: how do we know it's not BOTH of you!?!

Alastor: how do we do the tasks?

Angel: also Niffty! Stop. Following me.

Niffty: hehehehehehe

Angel: Alright I'm voting Niffty

Vaggie: she's just being Niffty. I don't think she's the imposter

Angel: Then who DO you think it is?

Vaggie: I think it's you and Lucifer... sorry sir

Lucifer: none taken its just a game

Alastor: again how do you do the tasks?

Reader: if you go up to the task spot it'll turn yellow then click on it

Alastor: ah, thank you my dear

Lucifer: looks like we're out of time

Back to the game, mics off*

Angel is still being followed by Niffty, Alastor approaches

Angel: I wonder what smiles is up to-HOLY FUCK!!!

Alastor slices Angel in half and vents away*

Vaggie and Lucifer show up and Vaggie reports the body*

Vaggie: Niffty... seriously? After I defended you?

Niffty: but-but it wasn't me?

Vaggie: then why didn't you report the body?

Niffty: I can do that?!?

Vaggie: look you'll get better over time just next time you're the imposter again don't be following people around

Niffty but it wasn't-

Niffty was ejected*

Angel screaming at the computer despite the fact that no one can hear him: NIFFTY YOU LITERALLY SAW ALASTOR DO IT!!!

Husk is going about doing tasks and sees reader vent into the room*

Husk starts running away and reader begins chasing him*

Husk: Oh shit! Oh shit!

Husk runs into a hallway through a door up to Alastor who kills him instantly*

Defeat*

Reader and Alastor won*

Husk: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!

Vaggie: I owe you an apology Niff

Niffty: it's okay

Angel in a mocking tone: bE nIcE tO hIm He'S nEw!!!!

Reader to Alastor: damn you are pretty good at this for your first time

Alastor: we make such an excellent team. Almost makes me wish I had a murdering partner in life. Now, who would like to play again?

[emperor-kumquat]

Fuck It

I am a gay trans immigrant in a deep red state in America. I came here for my partner's sake and have been making the best of it. The culture shock was hard, coming from Canada. In fact, we loved mocking Americans back home so it was hard for me to even like Americans. My instinct was to judge them as stupid. But it is never fair to judge people as all the same for something they can't help like nationality.

Each day, I looked for the goodness in the hearts of Americans. I tried to see that we weren't so different. I started to meet neighbours while taking care of the stray cats. I began volunteering at the city's animal shelter to start making a change. I wanted to see other good people and feel kinship.

Seeing the election results has just... hurt me. I feel so betrayed. I step outside and now know more than half of the adults out there don't care about what happens to me. I will work alongside volunteers, wondering if any of them voted for Trump. I will watch them do good deeds for animals, and wonder, how could you vote for someone who hurt people and the planet?

People in America will lose their rights. Women, immigrants, LGBTQ+, the disabled, and minorities across the board. Wars will be funded and slaughter will increase in other countries. Pollution will skyrocket with Republicans and their love of cars and oil. That affects everyone... Haven't we had enough forest fires and storms? We cannot deny climate change any longer.

I am not running away yet. I am staying. I will not be silent. I will be openly trans. They don't see us enough. They think we are boogeymen. They don't even know us. This is why it is so important to have a Pride flag and wear Pride things. We will not hide and be scared and ashamed. We will not be erased and keep hearing lies about us from the hateful ignorant.

I will protest alone with signs. And if or when things get really bad. I will be LOUD.

Fuck everyone who voted for Trump without a care for people like me. Fuck you to hell. You have no heart. Unfollow me. I assume on Tumblr most people are Democratic so that's all good, but I just have to get this off my chest.

I don't want anything bad to happen to me, but if I disappear, this is why. Republicans are hateful and many are violent. It's not a lie when their campaigns lie and fearmonger about specific groups of people.

Fuck, fuck, fuck you, Trump-supporters.

[imliterallyf7ckin9crazy]

“𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡”

Nam gyu (124) x gn!reader x thanos (Choi su bong/player 230)

Warnings: angst kinda comfort…You’ll see, canon death, spoilers ig?, blood and violence, drug use, nam gyu isn’t that good of a person (still somehow my fav but whatever)

If you haven’t seen episodes 6 & 7 pls spare yourself. I literally used some dialogue from the English transcript

A/N: Okokok this will be my last nam gyu and thanos post for a sec so I can write stuff for arcane. Then some of my other favs from squid game too. But I cooked this up for these guys :3

TLDR: you, 230, and 124 are close friends. there’s the huge fight in the boys bathroom and thanos is killed by 333. Nam gyu comes out talking all crazy. You sit with him and he tells you what actually happened. And that he and everyone else who voted ‘O’ wants to attack the ‘X’ choosers during lights out.

————

Your eyes wade between the separated groups in the room. The vote ended in a danm tie, meaning the vote must be redone tomorrow. And people better have changed their vote.

Everyone was on edge, the hostility between the ‘X’ and ‘O’ groups was palpable. Glares, taunts, threats… even though the split existed from the beginning it still felt like everyone was in it together. Now it feels like a cage fight.

You sigh and rub your face, pulling yourself out of your habitual people watching. Nam gyu and thanos scampered off to the bathroom together. To ‘talk to our boy min-su about his vote’ as thanos put it. They promised to be back soon, and it was just to convince him to change his vote for the recount.

You knew that was bullshit. You knew and they knew the guy, player 333, was also in there. Along with half the ‘X’ team. They brought trouble everywhere they went. Sparing no one but each other… and you? In a way. They still strong armed you into sticking with the games, and they don’t really let you go far. They always appear together at the just right time to pull you off and rambled their fried little heads off. It made you feel special, and it’s safe to say you were left alone by everyone else.

But they have been gone for a suspiciously long time. Min-su isn’t known to stand up for himself so it can’t be him holding them up. Instead of observing your peers, your attention was now trained on the men’s bathroom door. Two pink soldiers stood just outside, guns clutched in hand.

‘What could be taking them so long?’ You wondered as you stared and stared and stared until you could have sworn you saw the door shake in its frame. Like something was being thrown against it. You kept looking, trying to decipher if you were just seeing things. Just as you begin to stand up money began to flow from the dispenser into the growing pot of money. Very soon after players began to clamber out of the bathroom.

The men walked out of the ‘O’ side first, battered to all hell with each one spattered with sickening amount of blood. Your eyes raced between the first few players to come out, searching for your friends. Desperate to see your only source of comfort, friendship and safety hasn’t been taken from you. Then nam gyu came out, equally doused in blood if not more so. Hands stained dark red with fresh blood, looking at everyone with this insane look in his eyes and out of breath. But no thanos. You immediately got the hint you’d never see him walk out of there.

He starts telling everyone that the ‘X’ players attacked the ‘O’s in the bathroom to sway the votes. Before that got too far it the other side made their way out, claiming that it was actually the ‘O’ team started the blood bath. The whole situation became who’s lying and who’s not. Further stirring the pot of resentment in the room. However that didn’t matter much to you. What mattered is that you still had something to cling to in a place where lives are ended over nothing. After the whole debate you got up and caught up to nam gyu who was making his way to thanos’ bed with dazed steps.

“Nam gyu!” You called for him, making him look over his shoulder in disgust until he saw it was just you. His facial expression changed from irritated to somewhat relieved. But he looked very different, even though nothing changed. He was covered in blood that wasn’t previously there obviously but it was something in his eyes. In his demeanor. In his soul. He stopped for a second for you.

When you get within his reach he is immediately resting his hands on your shoulder and giving them light pats. You think it’s his way of saying he’s ok. It was unusual for him to be so quiet, he usually has infinite things to say. You move to put your hands on his forearms in return. “What the actual fuck happened in there?”

All he did was tilt his head to the side, gesturing to thanos’ bed you all used to hang out. Clearly whatever it was he didn’t want anyone to know or hear. You just nod and follow as you walk with him until he crawls onto thanos’ bed and rubs his face as if he’s trying to tell if this is all real. Eventually he looks at you with tear glazed eyes, but not one tear fell. Quietly he reveals thanos’ cross out from his pocket.

“Oh, Thanos, you fսcking idiot. You were a piece of shit dude, you know that?” He says and you look at him with a confused expression. You could tell he didn’t mean it, why else would it be when you look at him you can tell it hurts him. He can try to pretend he doesn’t care, but he does. He pops open the cross and takes a pill out and places it in his mouth. “Couldn't get my name right”

“What happened.” You repeat, sitting down next to him, shoulders touching. He immediately leaned on you. He looks at you and gives the fakest chuckle you’ve ever heard.

“We were…discussing the vote with min-su” nam gyu starts “but that fucking cunt myung-gi came in acting all smart. He threw the first punch and it just kept going from there…” he trailed off, looking at you with this lost, dead look. “He’s gone”

You knew that, but it still hurts. You could tell it hurt him to say too. You lean your head on him as tears well in your eyes. Thanos was a terrible person, that’s just a fact. But he was different one on one. With the silly names, dancing, rapping… he always had something to say and made sure you had safety measures. Constantly reassuring you that him and nam gyu wouldn’t let you die.

Player 333….

“We lost one more than the other team. We’d lose the vote.” He picks the conversation back up, speaking in a soft voice. The voice he uses when he wants something. “We have to attack them tonight. Kill them. So we can keep playing”

Your jaw drops a bit. He’s really asking you to kill people so you both can stay and possibly die too? Like thanos? Like all the other strangers you had to watch he murdered inches away from you. “I don’t know…I don’t know if I could do that nam gyu-“

Suddenly nam gyu grabs your hand, looking you in the eyes as he places something small and round in the palm of your hand then closing your hand around it with a twisted smile. You look.

It’s a small bright red colored tablet. One of thanos’ little pills. You look up at nam gyu nervously. You open your mouth to protest but he doesn’t let you. “Just take it. It will help you. Don’t you want the money? Don’t you want to see each other outside of here, huh? Have a good life?” He pressures you, taking his hands and playing with your jacket, sleeves, anything on you he could touch. “This is how we can do that, yeah? You’ll feel better after you take that, I swear. Then it will be over after light out, okay?”

You just nod, close your eyes and take the pill, crushing it in your teeth. “There you go” he praises. He pulls a bloody fork from his pocket. “You can do you it” he says with a deadly smile. And all you can do is agree as you begin to feel lighter and lighter

————

[jweekgoji]

when i read your sentinel/reader/starscream fic it felt like my neurons got ACTIVATED

PLEASEEEE GIVE US MOREEE OF THEM BEING ABSOLUTELY FILTHY WITH THE READER

Starscream/Sentinel/Reader [TFO]

tw: 18+, dubcon, dom!Starscream, dom!Reader, sub!Sentinel, pre-TFO, threesome, valveplug (MDNI), humilation, established relationships between Starscream/Reader, bondage, blowjob, fingerfucking, orgasm denial, brief mentions of violence/threats, Sentinel has spike and valve here, no description of reader's genitalia, no romantic feelings between Sentinel/Starscream. word count: 2,7k summary: After Sentinel's betrayal, the leader of the high guard and his right hand decide to give the false Prime a lesson. a/n: ty for your request~ I hope you like this one too. basically can be a sequel to this.

“I vote to rip his spark out right here and there.”

“He still has some use, even like this.”

“You really wish to spare him?! After what he had done?”

“No. But there are ways to hurt him more, than let him die.”

Sentinel's optics flutter open, and a soft groan escapes his lips as he slowly tries to process his new surroundings. What had happened during the time he was unconscious? He barely remembers anything right now. That short moment of triumph when he finally left the cave, not like some chores-bot, but as a future Prime, the new leader of Iacon— but where he is now?

He tried to sit up straight, to reach for his helm and to soothe this dizzy pain in his processor, only to feel a short tug of the stasis cuffs, restraining his wrists.

“Now, who is dumb enough to do that...” Sentinel grumbles to himself. When he finds out who's responsible for this, who's that glitch who thought that putting him in a cell, like some lowly criminal...

Sentinel's optics dart back to the front of the cell as soon as he hears the clanking sound of metal coming closer, with each step. The dim, purple light makes it hard to instantly recognize the faces of his captors.

 The bright red optics met his own with nothing but disgust, and another pair flicked with a hint of...what exactly? Coldness? Anger? Disappointment?

“Great, now he's awake.”

That familiar voice, a pain to the advisor's audials. Of course, why didn't he think of that...highly respected commander of the high guard earlier?

“Starscream,”  Sentinel sneered, tilting his helm. “The great leader of the high guard, personally chosen by our beloved Primes! I wonder what I do to deserve such a personal meeting?”

Starscream stepped closer to the bars of the prison, look full of hatred. It seems like any word from the blue-and-gold mech only pushed him closer to the edge of snapping him in half.

Sentinel paused for a moment after a threat, but that was hardly enough to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. If anything, it only amused him more.

“Flattery won't get you anywhere,” the commander said, slightly leaning forward, narrowing his optics. “You'll be left here and rust until it corrodes so deep into your circuits, every little flinch will make you break.”

“A little dramatic, don't you think? We both know what a sucker for praise you are,” Sentinel learned back against his seat, tone full of mocking innocence. “But I'm deeply flattered, really, already thinking about my internal workings...hm?”

You can hear Starscream's wings bristling in annoyance. What does this lying piece of scrap think he is? Even here, far away from any bot who could possibly help him escape, tied up and held on a plate like a piece of a high grade energon, Sentinel still makes him seethe with rage. How infuriating.

“I still recommend going back to my first suggestion,” the mech huffs, turning to look at you by his side.

You briefly look at Starscream, only nodding your helm in a silent reply to his words. As much as ripping the traitor's spark sounds alluring, it would be a mistake done in a fit of rage without thinking about the further consequences.

“The quintessons are still thinking he's the new Prime,” you whisper softly to your commander, just enough for Sentinel not to hear about what you two were talking about. “We can use him.”

Letting the «Prime» find out that he's still needed, despite everything he has done, would be too much of an honor. After all, you're not planning to let him forget about his wrongdoings here, even for a single second.

Starscream's optical ridges furrowed, but instead of another hissy remark, he lets out another soft scoff. Of course. That bastard had to plan everything down to the smallest detail. Putting him off the picture too early would make everything collapse like a house built of cards.

“Might as well just give him his first lesson.”

“If only that shuts that annoying, loud mouth of his.”

The quiet conversation between the two members of the high guard didn't go unnoticed by Sentinel. He knew it was about him. The question is, what exactly were you planning to do? If you really desired his death that much, he would have been offline a long time ago.

No.

You want something more from him than a few simple answers to your questions, aren't you?

“You're not very subtle, lovebirds, come on,” Sentinel studied both of you, with optics focused on one bot, then the other. “Share your thoughts with me.”

You step closer to the control panel, tapping a few green buttons on the screen, until the energon bars disappear with a one lust buzz.

First to approach Sentinel, you lock your optics with him. Now, closer than ever, he feels so smaller next to you. Hands tightly tied behind his back, it keeps a little to no ways for him to move.

You never felt such a deep frustration towards the Primes' advisor like your partner did. But it would be a lie if you said you haven't thought of this mech underneath you, shaking and writhing, in pleasure, pain, or both, perhaps.

A small, almost too hard to notice shiver runs down his spine when your servo gently rests on the side of his face. The tips of your digits run over his chin like a soft caress, and in any different circumstance, Sentinel would purr, melt under your touch like a cat in the hands of its owner. Until with a slight push of your other servo against on his chassis, you force him to fall on his back with a loud, painful thud.

Sentinel grunts from the impact, and the pain immediately shoots through his processor, making his optics flicker a few times, as he tried to get rid of the stars, twinkling in his sight. The smirk on his faceplate, now gone a long time ago, changed to a pout.

“Sweetspark, don't tell me you're too,” he groans, servos twitching behind his back to somehow push himself off the cold floor, but you cut off his attempt with your foot on his midsection. “Aghh—, I thought...we had something special, remember?”

As Sentinel mentally curses in his mind, with a ‘did they really have to push me that hard?’ to ‘by the Allspark, they can pack quite a punch’. He barely notices you looking over at Starscream, pointing at something, which only receives a grumble in response.

“I still can't believe you convinced me into this,” Starscream lowers his voice, muttering in a mild irritation, and yet, he complies without any further protest.

There's a tiny, pleased smirk on your faceplate, your red-and-white birdie might grumble, acting like he's totally not interested in humiliating and punishing Sentinel for his crimes, but...wasn't it too obvious already, hmm?

You move on your knees next to Sentinel, reaching for his thighs to grip the smooth metal, only to nudge the poor «Prime» on his side. Sentinel only mewls, but without any other choice, lets himself because tossed around like a doll in your hands.

“Don't even think of enjoying this, you useless waste of metal,” Starscream shoots Sentinel a warning glare, as he mirrors your own movement, now his thighs on each side of the other mech's helm.

With a soft humm of agreement, you gently glide your servo over Sentinel's waist, before trailing lower, to take a hold of his knee and raise his leg up, just to press your hips against Sentinel's own.

Sentinel's optics slightly dimmed in anticipation. His spark throbs in between the fear for his own well-being and disgust. Pathetic, unbelievable, and wrong. He's going to rule over Iacon, become a new Prime, and he's reduced to like some cheap Primus knows who?

Another shiver makes him buck his hips against yours without even noticing it, his own body betraying his thoughts. It was not intentional, was it? After the countless private meetings you had, it's no surprise that he unconsciously reacted to it like he used to. Even though the circumstances are far from how it was in the past.

And with how your touch is significantly gentler than Starscream's...how could he deny it?

No tiny gasp or shudder escapes your optics, and a short moment later, you continue, grinding your panel against his own. With each, agonizing slow movement, the cold metal now feels warmer, hotter to touch. Sentinel's optics are now fully focused on you, or better to say, where your frame connected with his own.

You wonder, what was he thinking right now, looking at you like that? Want you to stop him? Gentler?

“Harder,” he growls demandingly, the soft clicks of stasis cuffs faintly heard in the background, as he tried to loosen them up, or break, if lucky.

It wasn't enough, not nearly enough to satisfy him like he needs it right now. This slow pace you set up for him is nothing but a joke, and he's not sure, if you're doing it on purpose or just that slow by your own nature.

You give Sentinel an amused look. Demanding? Now? Did you damage his processor with that little push you gave him, but knowing how Sentinel is, are you really that surprised?

No, no, if he wants something, he should ask it. Nicely.

“Greedy and impatient is no quality of a real Prime, Sentinel,” you purr, moving your hips back and forth, until you tug on Sentinel's leg, to roughly pull him closer.

Sentinel lets out a sharp gasp, the heat of his own frame is now meeting yours, this does nothing to calm the raising of his spark. A hot puff of air escapes his mouth in frustration.

“Have a little mercy, c—can you?” he says through gritted teeth. Half of him wants to plead, to beg, so this torture will finally stop, but the other, prideful and oh so high of himself part refuses to bow.

Just not so long ago, he was the one to use you however he wants, on his knees in front of him, working over his spike in cute attempts to please him. How did he allow this?

“Enough,” Starscream grabs the side of Sentinel's face, a few digits roughly pushing inside the mech's mouth, forcing it open. Finally, no more cocky and annoying remarks.

The high guard slips deeper, and he can feel a cold drool coating his fingers. The feeling almost makes Starscream groan in disgust, a small frown on his face.

“Fragging freak,” his servo twitch in a suppressed need to either slap Sentinel so hard, or push his servo down his throat and rip this tongue off in addition to his voice box this instant.

You wouldn't be surprised if a part of Sentinel enjoyed it. Have you seen this Airachnid bot constantly lurking behind his back? F-r-e-a-k.

Admiring the sight, you let your servo run over the inside of his thigh. Sentinel flinches in response, his processor is practically overloaded with constant sensations coming from different parts of his body. Every time you decide to tease him, making his thighs rub in a desperate attempt to relieve himself, Starscream just has to roughly pull him out of it.

“mfff...!”

Sentinel moans around Starscream's fingers, optics rolling into the back of his helm, and it takes all of his strength not to whine and cry out for more. His interface panel finally opens up, and the cold, almost freezing air of the cell makes his spike twitch from sensitivity.

“Tsk, tsk, have no shame at all, Sentinel?” you playfully taunt him, with a fake sweetness.

You give Sentinel's thigh a light slap, and the mech winces under the roughness of the touch. It feels good, too good for his liking, his need for overload makes his thoughts blurr into one.

“Primus! Please—” he gasps, voice muffled, and still, he looks at you, pleading, no, begging to continue.

The ache between his thighs is unbearable, how can he focus on anything but it? The way you lazily rub your thumb over the head of his spike makes his legs quiver. If you hadn't been holding him still, he'd already be all around your waist, just to make sure you won't leave him hanging on the edge.

A hint of jealousy sparks in Starscream optics, first Sentinel keeps being demanding glitch, despite it, clearly a punishment, you're a little too soft on the prisoner, or he thought so.

Without any warning, Starscream grips the back of Sentinel's head, only to force the advisor's faceplate against his interface panel. The abrupt movement makes Sentinel let out a soft huff in displeasure, his neck already straining from the position.

“Bite and I will snap your neck” Starscream hisses as soon as he notices the look of defiance in Sentinel's half lidded optics. To which, he nods.

Sentinel can feel the tip of the guard's spike pressing against his lower lip, Starscream's fingers now replaced with a hardening length. Sentinel has to bite back his pride, the act already heavily hitting his confidence, always  so in control and now at the mercy of you.

But you can't just simply let him rest, can you? Not when you shamelessly toy with his spike, spreading transfluid with your index finger, making sure to move right against the spot that makes him push against your servo.

Maybe if you just hold your servo right here, without even moving, he'd fuck himself into it, just anything would be enough to soothe this needy feeling— until you thrust your fingers inside him. Slowly, but deeply at first, a slick coating your digits and slowly dripping down your servo..

Sentinel's valve flutters around you, the soft walls already squeezing at the smallest intrusion. His hips stuttering, the tiny bits of restraint are practically gone now, it's overwhelming. It's for the best that he can't talk anymore, with Starscream using the mech's throat as a personal fuck-toy.

The advisor's own golden-like wings twitched in quick response, with each brush of your fingers against the sensitive nub inside him. Sentinel jolts in ecstasy, arching his back. How unfair, how it's so, so unfair— if only he had his servos free, uncuffed and free to move, he would have grabbed your wrist to do the job himself, but no, you just have to make him work for it!

As Sentinel tirelessly worked himself to his own release, practically feeling it on the tip of his tongue, or it was rather, something else  You slightly lean forward, towards Starscream, for a kiss, to which he gladly replies to, by locking lips.

Sentinel feels like a third wheel in this trio, but no complaints escape him, perhaps for now. Watching the two of you, so obviously forgetting about him and in your own world...when he's all squirming and writhing underneath you. It's no help for him at all, that none of you seem to stop, despite finding each other more interesting than the other mech in need.

He can feel his spike throbbing almost painfully, a puddle of his own transfluid staining the sleek metal of his thighs. Sentinel can almost feel it, optics crossing and almost seeing the stars...until a strangled cry escapes from him, instead of a sigh of relief.

You pulled your fingers out of his valve a mere seconds before he had a chance to reach his overload. His hips thrust forward in a feeble attempt to meet your touch once again, to push him over the edge and let him satisfy his need, but nothing comes to rescue from his own desire.

He would cry, whine, and whimper for more, if only that would somehow make you take mercy on him. His wings slumping down in defeat, and that little look in your optics gives him no hopes at all..! Oh, Primus, how long is the night on Cybertron?