#hands held in utter uselessness

[askshivanulegacy]

Paywalled sources and people who post paywalled sources are simply not real.

Trump paused communications from all of our health agencies. He wants them reviewed.

You will be much less likely to know from now on during the early days if we have something like the current rising bird flu epidemic. You will be less likely to know about any illness epidemics. Even once things are confirmed and being reported in some media outlets, there's a non-zero chance that you are not going to see any urgency or any communication at all from places you are used to.

For the love of little green apples, please start masking again. Please be more careful with your health then you have been over the last 4 years.

https://wapo.st/4aqfN44

[maiaska]

“i can’t stop looking at her t-t-t..face”

NASTY DOG!ELLIE x MEAN!POPULAR!READER

Synopsis: you were a popular girl in school, pretty and mean, the whole package of course and ellie? yeah she was head over heels for you.

Authors note: hey guyssss lol, this is my first fic ever but i hope it was okay, feel free to give me critic, (my first language isn’t english so there might be mistakes)

OCTOBER

yeah okay, ellie was nasty…there was no denying it and she knew that very well.

she wasn’t nasty in the form of hygiene and basic human decency but it was more in the desire department. she wanted nothing more than to get her face shoved into a pussy and do everything and anything to please you.

Even her friends took notice, it wasn’t unusual for her best friend dina to call her out numerous times a day, “jesus ellie, quit ogling over her” to which ellie would throw her hands in the air and look at her best friend with an annoyed and pouty look, “im not ogling, she’s just in my eyesight…s’not my fault”. Ellie knew she was totally drooling at the sight of you, her eyes never leaving your beautiful face, and your tempting body…you were just so perfect, so blissfully perfect it even annoyed her a little because the chance of you ever looking in her way, it was laughable, no way in hell could you like her.

Ellie wasn’t unpopular, in fact she had many friends and a great social life, that didn’t exclude the fact that she was hardcore loser but people didn’t really notice that…except you and your friends of course.

It was like you were cut out from a 2000s lame repeating teenage movie, so pretty, so poetic yet so fucking mean.

you were considered one of the prettiest girl in the school, nobody admitted it out loud but everyone knew the power you held along with that. you had many admires, many “suitors”…literally. you were a part of the ever lasting “popular clique”. you and your friends were a higher power in the school, you were of status, of value, of position, or at least that’s what your friendgroup had convinced themselves of.. it didn’t matter though, you and your friends made sure people knew you were better than them.

oh and your favorite thing? making people feel useless, making them squirm under the gaze of your piercing and almost stinging eyes.

ellie hated that.

just like any other kid who hadn’t been brainwashed yet, of course she hated it, getting made fun of or treated like a dog is never pleasant, but the weird thing? she never really did despise you for that. there was something about you that made you so intriguing no matter how much of a bitch you were to others.

in your eyes, you weren’t mean. at least not like your friends who buillied kids for merely looking in their way, and shit talked people while they were present, to make them feel weak. no, you weren’t like that, in fact you could be really sweet and kind, but sometimes the sass and attitude just over-shined that unfortunately..but to ellie’s sake? it made you even more fucking hot, even though you constantly stepped on her. Like a snake with venom, you and your friends would walk past ellie and her friends in the hallway, you would look at her with this nasty look on your face, a complete grimace of utter disbelief and disgust and then you’d scoff, in ellies eyes? you had looked at her, acknowledged her, given her a bit of your attention…and it only made her want to be your lap dog, but unfortunately that’s all the attention ellie had ever gotten from you…mean stares.

dina and her boyfriend jesse would notice the way ellie’s eyes lighted up slightly when you grimaced at her, they both scoffed to them selves, knowing what a complete fool their friend was.

at night after a boring school day, ellie would lie in her bed with her phone dangling from her cold and calloused hand, her eyes focused on the sight of you- from a picture she found on your instagram, your graciously perfect curves and thighs, your eyes that looked like the universe, your glistening skin…oh, ellie was in a dangerous trance. Her other hand working on her puffy pink pussy that so desperately needed to get touched. pumping in and out with her slender fingers, ellie let out soft whimpers and noises, imagining that you were the one who made her feel like this, your rough but gentle fingers making her squirm and moan while you had that powerful smirk on your face, the one you always have when talking to someone below you, a stark contrast to the innocenct smiles you’d offer the teachers and those stupid boys who shamelessly flirted with you, their eyes only focusing on your round curvy tits…that made her furious, she knew she wasn’t exceptionally better than them but she was far more discreet and the difference between her and those men? she wanted to do everything you told her to…meanwhile they just wanted to use her body- in ellie’s eyes you were a goddess, in theirs? another fuckable girl to boost their ego.

She’d imagine you riding her dick and screaming out her name, bouncing up and down on the silicone as you bit your lip, making you feel so fucking good and carefree, while still knowing she’d never be in the position to fuck you, to dominate you, no no no…she’d be too pathetic for that, instead she’d be grinding on your ass, humping her skin on yours as you degrade her with your venomous words, pathetic dog, you wanna fuck me? then earn it..

you would make a fool out of her, make her feel useless just like you did to poor students on a normal school day.…but with ellie? your cruel taunting words wouldnt work on her, she’d only want more of you.

this was all in her imagination anyway but it wouldn’t stop her from cumming into her black boxers for the third time this night, now filled with her juices, only because of you and the irritating grip you had on her mind.

she’d lay back on her bed after her high, tired and touch deprived as her own fingers were never enough, she should feel ashamed, and she sometimes did but truth be told…ellie did not regret it at all, she knew she was nasty, nasty for imagining you, nasty for making you her sex fantasy, nasty for not giving a fuck. but she couldn’t stop herself.

₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊🍁 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

OCTOBER 28TH

i’m the highlights of october, everyone’s favorite month, a party had been planned like usual from one of the notorious party hosts, everyone was invited, which could only mean one thing...chaos.

After having brainstormed with dina and jesse for about a week, ellie had finally managed to figure out what her costume would be, it would be as simple as a wolf...a quick memory of her and old best friend trying on halloween masks, giggles and shitty puns running through her mind with a smile on her face, yeah- this was perfect.

ironically enough you had choosen to dress up as a cat, with ears, a painted nose and long nails that could snatch any guy or girl you had your eye on whether they wanted you or not, you’d have the power to get them anyways. a fierce kitty cat fitted you perfectly, it was a costume made for you.

Inside the enormous house, music was blasting and pounding, lights flickering all the colors, the smell of alcohol and sweat evidently stuck out. A glance around at all the people in costumes, it was almost the same atmosphere like there would be in a masquerade ball, it was the thrilling idea of putting on a mask for the night, and letting yourself let lose,

this wasn’t a normal party no, this was a chance to be/do/act any way you’d like, and many people had realized that, including ellie. The auburn haired girl had been wanting to talk with you for such a long time but she never had the guts to actually do it, in classes she would always imagine you dropping your pen, then she’d reach out and pick it up for you to take, hands brushing, fate happening, but of course something like that never actually did make it out of her mind.

Her mind had been running wild the day before the party, hell even the week before, the possibility of her longing desires becoming real?…she couldn’t contain herself, the thought of having a chance to talk to you, without the social structures and thick line between popular and not, it was exciting.

Ellie and her friends were sipping beers and passing around a fat joint, Ellie was sitting on the couch, her fair skin filled with freckles like stars, that nobody had ever seen, as she rarely shows her body. her fur glove paws wrapped around the joint and brought it to her lips, she took a long and well deserved hit, weed filling her lungs and system. the familiar feeling was ever so soothing, ellie made a content sigh and leaned back on the couch, her eyes traveling up to the crowd of people standing around and her eyes land on you, she immediately takes notice to your outfit, heat creeping up on her cheeks, a red tint covering her face and one single thought

holy fuck.

the way your dress hugged your body was enough to send ellie into a complete spiral, or the way your face was slightly painted, with your eyes covered in black eyeshadow, making you look like you could manipulate someones mind just by a quick glance.

ellie couldnt tear her eyes away from you, it was impossible when you looked so damn good, she wanted nothing more than for you to look at her, give her attention, give her validation. she wanted nothing else but to be at your feet. Ellie was ready to bite you, like a dog running after a cat, she’d be on your tail…leaping next to you at every step you took. Her gaze secretly lands on your chest, plump tits looking like a snack for her to devour, she wanted her tongue all over you, to lick you up, to feel your honey colored, shiny ski-

“hello?? earth to ellie?” the girl was pulled out of her trance, which might have been good because ellie was suddenly feeling way too hot and lustful, yeah it was the definitely the weed's fault, or so she convinced herself as if she pinning over you yesterday. “fuck- sorry yeah, what were you saying dee?” dina punched her arm and rolled her eyes. “oh my god ellie, were you staring at her again?! you know you can’t get her- just back off already”, dina was a good friend, she and ellie had been best friends since forever, which meant dina had no shame in being blunt and direct, telling ellie the truth that she didnt want to realize. Ellie grumbles and runs a hand over her face, feeling caught, but nevertheless her gaze once again falling back on you and more so- your chest that sat so beautiful in your black dress. “ow?! wha- i know that, you don’t have to point it out..”

dina scoffed at this, as she immediately noticed her dumb friend returning her gaze to you, “jeez ellie, stop looking at her ti-“

“face!” she interrupted quickly and looked at her friend with a slight smirk, the alcohol mixed with the weed running through her veins made her feel slightly more confident. “eugh you're like a nasty dog, and not in a good way” dina rolls her eyes and takes the joint from ellies hand, ellie lets out a cackle at her choice of words, but not denying them..she was definitely a nasty dog when it came to you.

ellie's pinning hadn't flown past your head, nothing did, of course you had noticed, you notice everything..if only ellie knew that, when she was shamelessly staring at you. but enough about that, were you going to do anything about it? absolutely not, many people’s eyes landed in you, if you gave one of them attention, others would just want your attention even more.

you had the upper hand in this and you werent going to do anything…but then why did it annoy you so much that her eyes were on you? usually you didn’t care…but something about ellie made you intrigued, and you fucking hated it.

ellie didn’t know how it happened, her feet had leaped up and were suddenly moving towards you, she couldn’t stop her feet they had a mind of their own right now and it was freaking ellie out

don’t act stupid ellie, fuck you’re dressed as a wolf?! and you except her to wanna talk to you

she stopped behind you, god you were even prettier up close, no ellie stop- act normal- before she could continue her nervous rambling inside her head, you had turned around and looked at her, your eyebrows scrunched with an annoyed look on your face, shit, ellie couldn’t tell if she regretted everything in that moment or if this was worth it as she got the chance to see you up close for once.

“um hi..?, what was your name again?” you glare at her like she was just an annoying bug in your face that you desperately wanted to get rid of. but ellie didn’t care she was too focused on your face. your kitty ears fitted you so well in your smooth messy hair and your painted nose made her want to crumble on the spot. ellie couldn’t tell if she was drooling or not, she might as well have been because of your outstanding beauty, you were like nothing she had seen before. “oh-..uh..i-im ellie”

you laugh in her face, the sound sending a lightning bolt through her body. “well.. ellie, you should’ve dressed up as a stalker to make up for your behavior” you cross your arms and look at her, taking in every inch of her skin, the poor girl felt so nervous and intimidated yet turned on under your hard gaze, “my behavior? what um what do you mean?-i- wasn’t-“

ellies words get caught off as you interrupted her, not having time or energy for her boring lies “i-i-i”..don’t play dumb with me,” you mock her stuttering with a cold tone of voice, clearly trying to use one of your classic mean girl techniques, ellie convinced herself she wasn’t bothered but truth be told she felt a little irritated, she felt herself become a little hurt by your bluntness and mean words, maybe her fondness of you was exactly what it was, just a facade she could see from the distance, ellie’s thoughts stopped as you spoke your next words with a smirk on your face and an innocent voice, “shouldn’t a good puppy like you learn some manners…”

she sucked in her breath, a blush creeping up her pale cheeks. your words were evil, and so not meant in any way but evil, you were trying to make her feel intimidated and it was working…but she couldn’t help but notice the touch of lust in your eyes, or maybe she was just drunk. her body was hot, her gaze finding your face, your evil grin paired with the most innocent, precious eyes she had ever seen, her previous irritation hadn’t faded completely but her temptations were definitely ruling over it. nasty thoughts springing in her mind, too unholy to be present right now, and you knew that.

“i’m a wolf…” she mumbled quietly under her breath, in reality she wanted to respond with a drop to her knees, but that wasn’t realistic yet. “is that barking, i hear coming from you??” you mockingly put up a hand to your ear pretending to listen for barks, looking at her as if she was nothing but a unpropper dog. Your gaze stays steady, challenging her to talk back, but a glint in her eyes shows she's up for the game, and you’re ready, not backing down an inch. ellie couldn’t help her spark of confidence in her next words. “funny, coming from someone dressed like a kitten” ellie licks her lips and speaks with a small smirk, tilting her head slightly, the alcohol for sure made ellie do it, in the real world she’d never have the guts to be playful with you.

You narrowed your eyes at her, not expecting her to say that, a cackle leaves your lips and you cross your arms and study her face. “oh now look who’s getting bold, did the little dog finally learn to bite back? hm?” your expression taunting, your irritation still present but an intriguing look in your eyes had appeared, waiting to see if ellie had the guts to really challenge you or if it was just a quick moment. she couldn’t figure you out, the tension was thick between the two girls

ellie didn’t want to respond, she didnt know what to say that could satisfy your question, she’d do anything for this moment to never end.

“m...maybe i did” the auburn haired girl reponds a little unsure of herself but she hides it with a steady face, she wanted to prove herself to you, prove that she wasnt just nervous rack. “maybe? oh ellen...i’d love to see that happening from someone like you” you smile innocently, knowing full well her name wasn’t ellen but she didn’t have to know that.

“its ellie...and, i can bark” she said, raising her chin higher to prove her point, her green eyes holding your gaze. She’s on edge, unsure if she’s just woken up something she can’t handle.

“..and i can scratch” you lean closer, the distance suddenly becoming much smaller, ellie could see the tiny spots on your nose and the way your lips were neatly formed and pressed towards, your piercing eyes finding ellie’s green orbits, staring daggers into her skull, ellie could’ve sworn she saw you looking at her lips for a split second, but she wasn’t sure…

does she want me the same way i want her?- no ellie, remember what dina said.

“but you already know that, don’t you?…ellie” oh the brown haired girl knew it very well, everyone did…you scratched like a kitten, you had your claws on everyone. She was speechless for a moment before nodding compliantly and before she could let out a real response you beat her to it, with the same smirk you had on your face the entire time. “that’s what i figured, enjoy the party ellen.” you reach your hand out and pat her head, your long nails making contact with her chestnut colored hair, in the most taunting annoying way ever and then you just disappear into the crowd of people, leaving ellie standing like a flustered mess, a hopeless, pathetic, blushing mess. she had never expected her first conversation with you to be like this.

god she was down bad~

part two??

[mrsvante]

Honorably Discharged

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: idol au, established relationship, pfp

summary: he served his country. now he’s coming home to you. eighteen months of distance. eighteen months of longing, discipline, and denial. but no amount of time, no uniform, no public ceremony can restrain him once he sees you again.

warnings: military discharge, dom!taehyung, oral for everyone, fingering, desperation, devotion & downright destruction 😈, degradation, overstimulation, mirror sex, fluffy aftercare

word count: 4,480

a note from our sponsors 💁🏽‍♀️: sooo i prepared a drabble for each of the boys in honor of them completing their military service. i might add one for jin & hoseok at a later date. but hope you enjoy!!

WE ARE BACK 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜✨

The cameras were a blur. A white hot flash here, a reporter’s question there—none of it mattered.

Not really.

Taehyung bowed when expected, smiled when they asked. Nodded solemnly, let his gaze linger on the crowd like he was soaking it all in, like he was basking in this ceremonious farewell. But it was all muscle memory at this point. Empty performance.

The ache in his jaw from forcing that gentle smile didn’t come close to the throb in his chest. Every second dragged. Every cheer, every congratulation, every prescripted word he uttered to the press, useless.

He didn’t want to be here.

He wanted to be inside you.

He shouldn’t be thinking like this, not with cameras pointed at him, but fuck if he could help it. Eighteen months. Eighteen months of discipline, suppression, polite nods, and wet dreams in the dark. No amount of self control could erase what the sight of your name on an envelope or the sound of your voice over the phone did to him. No picture or voice note was enough. You weren’t real to him until you were underneath him again.

He exhaled slowly, blinking through the final press call before murmuring, “Thank you,” one last time. His manager’s hand landed on his shoulder. Time to go.

The SUV was idling at the curb, dark tinted, familiar. But it wasn’t the car he saw.

It was you inside it.

He didn’t walk. He stalked toward the vehicle like something feral, the uniform on his back a barely there leash around a beast that had waited far too long.

The back door swung open and there you were. Eyes wide, lip caught between your teeth, nervous and glowing. And before you could even say his name he was on you.

His arms caged you in, his scent all clean soap and masculine spice from the base. His lips crushed yours, tongue prying into your mouth like he meant to stay there.

The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was starved. A collision. No finesse, just hunger.

You whimpered against him, fingers tangled in his beret as he growled into your mouth. His hand found your jaw, held you steady as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, hips rolling once, hard, against yours like he couldn’t help himself.

“Tae,” you breathed, barely coherent. “We’re in public…”

The words hit like a splash of cold water.

Taehyung froze, eyes still closed, breath ragged as he pulled back just enough to look at you. Your lipstick was smudged, your lips swollen, and he wanted to ruin you. Right here. Right now.

But he nodded, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Get me home,” he rasped. “Right now.”

—

The moment the front door clicked behind him, he snapped.

You’d barely kicked your shoes off when he was on you again—gripping, kissing, unbuttoning with frantic hands like your clothes had personally offended him. You laughed at first, breathless and warm against his mouth, but the sound melted into a moan when his teeth scraped your collarbone.

“Don’t laugh,” he whined, dragging the hem of your top up over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him. “Not when I’m two seconds away from fucking losing it.”

You reached for his uniform jacket, but he slapped your hands away, growling against your skin, “No. Let me. Been thinking about this too long to rush it.”

His fingers trembled as they popped each button down your front, exposing your bra. Then he paused. Just long enough to look at you.

His lips parted. A guttural sound escaped.

“Fuck… You’re unreal.”

Your hands went to his belt, but he dropped to his knees before you could finish.

You gasped. “Tae—”

“No,” he said, voice wrecked, eyes wild. “You don’t get to speak right now. Not until you’re crying on my tongue.”

He lifted you, hands cupping your ass as he carried you like you weighed nothing. One arm wrapped around your thighs, the other ripping at the clasp of your bra with brutal urgency. He dropped you onto the plush sectional, and before you could even gather your thoughts, he was tugging your pants down with feverish, jerking movements.

“Spread,” he hissed. “Now.”

You did.

Or maybe your legs fell open on instinct, Taehyung didn’t care. All he saw was your slick, swollen pussy glistening like a reward for every sleepless night. He dropped his head with a shudder, dragging his tongue up the center of your folds with a groan so deep it vibrated through your thighs.

“God, fuck,” he breathed. “I forgot how sweet you taste. No—no, that’s not right. I dreamed about how sweet you taste, and it still didn’t come close.”

His tongue curled against your clit, soft at first, like he was reacquainting himself with his favorite meal. Then he moaned into you, like your cunt was the first real thing he’d had in a year and a half.

You whimpered, hips lifting, but he slammed your thighs back down, arms hooked under your knees to pin you open. “No running,” he growled. “You stay right fucking there.”

He flattened his tongue against your clit and began devouring you. Sucking and licking. Letting his teeth scrape ever so slightly.

“Tae—ohmygod—”

He pulled back only to slap your inner thigh. “Did I tell you to talk?”

You shook your head frantically, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“Didn’t think so.” He slid two fingers into you, slow, and then crooked them just once, and you cried out, hands flying to your face. “That’s right. Be good. Let me hear how much you missed me.”

The wet squelch of his fingers and the obscene slurping of his mouth echoed in the room, but Taehyung didn’t care. He’d waited for this. Earned this. Every groan, every whimper, every flutter of your walls around his fingers, he drank it all in like air.

“You’re dripping, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling against your clit. “You fucking missed me, didn’t you?”

You nodded, a broken sob catching in your throat.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I missed you—so much—oh my god—Tae—please—”

Your words dissolved into screams as he curved his fingers and sucked hard on your clit in tandem. Your thighs clamped around his head but he only groaned in approval, fucking his fingers deeper, faster, and rougher until your orgasm exploded against his tongue with a wild, keening cry.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

You were twitching, sobbing, trying to crawl away, but he chased you, fingers still pumping, lips still dragging along your slit. “Thought about this every night,” he panted. “Jerking off in silence, pretending my hand was your pussy. Thinking about how tight you are, how wet you get. Fuck, I’d cum just thinking about you moaning my name.”

“Please, Tae, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He gave you a devilish grin, eyes dark. “You’re gonna come again. And again. Until I say you’re done.”

Your second orgasm crashes through you like a thunderclap moments later. Loud, shattering, inescapable. You sob into the crook of your arm, thighs quaking around Taehyung’s shoulders as he licks you through it, savoring every ripple, every shake of your body against his tongue.

When he finally pulls back, lips shiny with your release, eyes heavy with lust, he looks wrecked. Disheveled. Starved. His jaw flexes as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at your spread thighs with a look that could peel paint off walls.

“Baby…” His voice cracks. “I can’t—fuck—I need your mouth.”

You’re still gasping, still recovering, brain thick with the fog of your orgasm, but the moment you hear him plead, you blink up at him. Your lips parted, pupils blown, heart stuttering at the desperation in his voice.

“Please,” he rasps, reaching for you. “Come here. On your knees for me. I’ve been thinking about your mouth for months, jagi. Thought about how warm it is, how wet, how you moan around me when I fuck your throat—”

You crawl forward like a woman summoned, limbs still trembling, but your eyes locked on his with feverish intent. Taehyung groans, loud and low, as you sink to your knees in front of him.

“That’s it,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “That’s my girl. Always so good for me.”

Your fingers reach for his belt, fumbling at first, and he catches your wrists, gently helping you undo the buckle, button, and zipper. His hips already arching into your hands with frantic need. You shove the waistband of his fatigues down, dragging his boxer briefs with them, and…

Fuck.

He springs free, thick and flushed, the tip already leaking. Veins prominent, shaft heavy, twitching like it’s aching for your touch.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, and he laughs—shaky, strained, already panting.

“Don’t say that unless you’re ready to worship,” he groans, thumbing your cheek. “You see what you do to me? Look at me, baby—look what just thinking about your mouth does.”

You wrap your hand around his cock and he nearly crumbles.

“Shit—fuck, fuck, fuck—don’t stop,” he hisses, hips jerking slightly. “Just like that. I’ve been so fucking hard for weeks and had no one to touch me but me. You know how sad that is? Stroking myself in the bunk with your name in my mouth, praying nobody walked in…”

You lick a slow, teasing stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, letting your tongue flick at the bead of precum gathered there.

Taehyung whimpers.

“I swear to God,” he chokes out, “if you don’t let me cum in that pretty mouth, I’ll fucking lose my mind—please.”

You don’t make him wait.

You slide him into your mouth with slow, deliberate intention, inch by inch, feeling the weight of him settle on your tongue like he was always meant to be there. His head falls back immediately with a guttural groan, hands twitching at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Oh fuck, yes. Baby… baby, your mouth.”

You bob your head, tongue swirling around the tip every time you pull back, then sinking deeper, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing the moans that tremble from his thighs.

Taehyung tangles his fingers in your hair, just like you want him to. Just like you need him to.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, don’t you?” he pants, hips jerking. “Want me to use you like you’re just a little cock sleeve? My own personal toy?”

You moan around him, and he shudders.

“Fuck—yes, that’s it, take it, take all of it, baby. Deep throat that shit—just like that. My dirty little girl. My good girl. God, you’re so fucking good to me—”

You grab his thighs and relax your throat, taking him deeper, eyes watering slightly from the stretch. He groans again, body trembling, every muscle tense as he fucks shallow, needy thrusts into your mouth.

“Too long,” he gasps. “Too fucking long—I’m gonna—shit—I’m cum, baby, please, don’t stop, don’t stop—please—”

You speed up, moaning around him, fingers fondling his balls with practiced care.

His thighs tremble.

His grip tightens.

Then he breaks.

With a strangled cry, Taehyung throws his head back and explodes into your mouth, hips stuttering, cock pulsing wildly as he spills down your throat. He’s loud, unabashed, panting curses and love like his sanity depends on it.

“Fuckfuckfuck—you’re perfect—I love you, I fucking love you—so good to me—so good—don’t stop, baby, please—”

You suck him through it, letting him fuck your mouth even as he twitches and groans, his thighs quaking, your lips stretched around him like a prayer. When he finally stills, you swallow with a pleased hum and slowly pull back, licking your lips.

Taehyung drops to his knees in front of you, eyes dazed, face flushed, hands cradling your jaw as he crashes his mouth to yours.

“God, I missed you,” he groans against your lips. “You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect. That mouth is gonna ruin me.”

You giggle softly, breathless and swollen, but he’s already hardening again, twitching against your thigh.

And this time, he lifts you into his arms, stands, and carries you toward the bedroom—his voice a dark whisper against your ear.

“Now I’m going to fuck you like I’ve dreamed of every night for the last five hundred days.”

—

He carried you down the hall like a soldier returning from war with his most prized possession.

Because he was. Because you were.

His arms were tight around your waist, your breath ghosting against his neck, your fingers curled weakly into the collar of his uniform as if you knew something primal was about to tear loose.

And it did.

The moment he stepped into the bedroom, Taehyung didn’t hesitate. He tossed you onto the mattress like you weighed nothing, and before you could even blink, he was on you again.

He gripped your hips, flipped you onto your stomach, and shoved your ass up with both hands until your knees sunk into the mattress and your face was buried in the pillows.

Then his mouth found you, and you screamed.

Because his tongue was back on your pussy, and his thumb—God, his thumb—pressed between your cheeks to toy at your other hole like he had every right to touch you there too.

“Stay just like that,” he growled against your folds, voice soaked in heat. “I want to see this pussy shake when you cum.”

You moaned so loud the sound bounced off the walls. He grunted into you, devouring you from behind like he was starving, dragging his tongue from your dripping slit to your clit and back again.

His thumb circled your ass slowly, teasing but never invading with just enough pressure to make you writhe.

“Oh God, Tae—please—oh fuck—please—I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, tongue flicking ruthlessly over your clit. “You will. Gimme one more, baby. Just one more, I know you can. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You sobbed into the sheets, nails clawing the mattress. And when his thumb pressed just a little deeper, your whole body snapped.

The orgasm ripped through you. You screamed, trembled, your body jerking as if it didn’t belong to you anymore, and Taehyung just held you there, tongue still working you, sucking every last drop of pleasure until you collapsed into a quivering mess.

He kissed your inner thighs, murmured something obscene you couldn’t even process, then eased you onto your back.

He stood at the edge of the bed, bare and beautiful, cock in hand, pumping himself in long, lazy strokes as he looked down at you like you were salvation incarnate.

“Look at you,” he whispered, eyes glassy, lips parted. “Spread out like this. Shaking. Fuck, baby… you broke for me.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and trembling. “Tae…”

“I love you,” he murmured, voice suddenly soft. “I fucking love you so much, it hurts.”

Then the softness cracked.

He grinned and hissed through his teeth, hand stroking harder. “And I missed this pussy. Missed the way she looks, swollen and dripping. Missed the way she pulses for me. Look at that—look how she’s clenching just from watching me jerk off. You want this cock, baby?”

You nodded, moaning. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“Please, Tae—please fuck me—I need it—I need you.”

That broke him.

He crawled over the bed with the grace of a predator, thick thighs settling between yours as he guided your legs up—one, then the other—over his shoulders. And then he looked down.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, thumbing your clit gently. “This pussy is a fucking dream. Look how swollen she is. How sensitive. She’s crying for me, baby. You see this?”

You cried out, lifting your hips, desperate for him to do something, anything, but he just chuckled darkly.

“You wanna be split open?” he muttered, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. “Wanna be filled up so deep you feel me in your throat?”

“Yes—yes, Taehyung, please—”

He pushed.

And the sound he made was animal.

“Fuuuuck, you’re tight,” he snarled, hips rolling deeper, slow and brutal. “So wet. So fucking tight—oh my God—”

You screamed again, legs trembling against his shoulders as he sank into you inch by devastating inch, stretching you wide, filling you like you were made to take him.

When he bottomed out, he paused, eyes clenched shut, jaw slack, the veins in his arms straining.

“I’m not gonna last,” he groaned. “I can’t—shit—I’m gonna ruin you, baby. I’m gonna fucking break you.”

He pulled back and slammed forward.

Again.

And again.

Each thrust harder, deeper, filthier than the last. The bedframe rocked. The headboard slammed. Your cries became incoherent, babbling messes of need and praise as Taehyung fucked you with the force of a man trying to make up for every second he spent away.

He gripped your ankles, pressing them into your chest to fold you deeper, watching your pussy swallow his cock over and over again. His breath was ragged, words falling from his mouth in a stream of desperate reverence and filth.

“Mine—this pussy is fucking mine—no one else gets to feel her—no one else gets to make you scream like this—look at me while I fuck you—let me see those eyes—yeah, that’s it—take it, baby—take all of it—”

And God, you did.

Because there was no one else. Nothing else. Just him. Just Taehyung, finally home.

He came hard.

Deep inside you. Warm and pulsing, body bowed over yours, mouth slurred against your neck with half spoken confessions and frantic curses. He stayed there for a moment, still buried in your cunt, still trembling, and overwhelmed by the heat and the stretch and the realness of you.

But then you clenched around him again. So sweet and soft and tight, and it was over.

The blood roared back to his cock. The heat flared like wildfire. And Taehyung couldn’t stop himself.

He lifted his head, hair stuck to his temple with sweat, chest heaving as he whispered hoarsely, “One more.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, wrecked, lips parted as if to protest. But then he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling from your swollen pussy, and grabbed your hips again.

“One more,” he repeated, darker this time.

Just let him drag you off the bed, legs weak beneath you, body pliant in his hands. He kissed your shoulder, your spine, the nape of your neck as he guided you to the tall full length mirror standing beside the dresser.

And then he bent you over in front of it.

Taehyung grinned—half feral, half awed—at the reflection before him.

There you were, hair mussed, lips bitten raw, nipples peaked, thighs slick with your cum and his. Your pussy puffy and glistening in the mirror’s reflection.

He almost came again just looking at you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pressing his body against your back. “So fucking ruined. Look what I did to you.”

You whimpered, hands braced against the mirror, and he chuckled darkly as he reached down between your legs and ran two fingers through your folds.

“Still dripping for me. You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

Taehyung caught your throat in his other hand and gently tilted your chin toward the mirror.

“Eyes up,” he growled. “You’re gonna watch.”

He slid his fingers up to your clit, circling, teasing, just enough to make your thighs shake. “I want you to see how pretty you look with my cock in you.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

“No,” he warned, fingers tightening around your throat. “Eyes open, baby. You owe me this. I spent a year and a half jacking off in the barracks like a fucking teenager. You know how many nights I dreamed of this?”

He lined himself up and sank back in with a deep, satisfying thrust, watching in the mirror as your pussy welcomed him greedily.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped. “She’s choking me. She missed me so much, didn’t she?”

You nodded frantically, mouth parted in a broken moan.

Taehyung started slow. Long, deep thrusts, the kind that made you feel every thick inch of him. The kind that forced your eyes to stay locked on the sight of your bodies meeting over and over again. His hand stayed wrapped around your throat, thumb stroking lazily under your chin, while the other worked your clit in firm circles.

Then he leaned down and bit your shoulder. Hard.

You cried out.

“That’s it,” he groaned, licking over the mark. “You like being fucked like this, huh? Bent over, helpless, drooling while I ruin you?”

You tried to speak, but he squeezed your throat and whispered, “Shh. Just nod, jagi.”

You did.

“Good girl,” he praised, picking up his pace.

Skin slapping against skin. Your ass bouncing. His cock disappearing again and again into the wet clutch of your cunt. The mirror fogged from both your breaths.

“I had dreams,” he murmured, voice ragged against your ear. “So many dreams. Dreamed of this pussy. Dreamed of bending you over the supply closet at base. Dreamed of you sneaking into the showers to ride me quietly.”

You moaned, breath hitching.

“But it was never enough,” he snarled. “Woke up hard and aching. Had to jerk off like some desperate fucking loser. Nothing—nothing—came close to this. This pussy? These sounds?” He thrust harder. “This is mine.”

He let go of your throat and grabbed your hair, forcing you to keep watching as he fucked you into the mirror, every muscle in his body straining with effort and lust.

“You see that?” he growled. “You see how good you take it?”

“Taehyung—” you whimpered.

“Say it. Say whose pussy this is.”

“Yours. It’s yours—fuck, Tae—it’s always been yours—”

He lost it.

His rhythm faltered, becoming erratic, brutal. His teeth scraped your shoulder, your neck, his tongue soothing where he bit you raw. His balls slapped against your soaked folds, your arousal smeared across your inner thighs and down your legs.

“You’re perfect,” he moaned, thrusts slamming into you. “So fucking perfect. I’ll never get enough of this. I’ll die with my cock buried in you and still think I didn’t get enough.”

Your walls clenched.

“Oh fuck, you’re close, aren’t you?” he panted. “Gonna cum on me again? Gonna milk my cock like you’re starving for it?”

You sobbed, nails scratching down the mirror.

“Cum for me, baby,” he begged, grip tightening on your hips. “Wanna feel it. Wanna feel that greedy little pussy suck me dry—now—”

You shattered.

And so did he.

With a loud, feral groan, Taehyung buried himself to the hilt and came again, warmth flooding you as you convulsed around him. His body collapsed over yours, chest heaving, mouth open against the slope of your back as he whispered things no soldier would ever dare admit.

“I love you. Missed you so much.”

Your legs gave out the second he pulled out.

You collapsed into his arms, flushed and trembling, your breath shaky, your body spent. And Taehyung didn’t speak—not right away.

He just watched you.

Watched the way you trembled in his hold. The way your fingers curled against his chest like you couldn’t quite let go of reality yet. The marks he’d left along your skin, bites, kisses, and bruises bloomed like secrets only he’d ever be trusted to keep.

His heart ached.

You looked like a dream. A fevered vision of pleasure and surrender. But what stole his breath, what gutted him, was the trust in your exhaustion. The way you gave him everything without fear. Without doubt.

He brushed the damp hair from your face and leaned down, his lips finding your temple in a soft kiss.

“Sweet girl,” he whispered, his voice barely there. “Come back to me.”

You stirred, eyelids fluttering, eyes glazed with the last waves of pleasure.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you now, okay?”

You nodded weakly.

He scooped you into his arms, holding you close. He walked you to the bathroom like he was carrying something holy.

He set you down gently on the edge of the tub while he turned on the shower, testing the temperature with his hand before returning to you, kneeling at your feet.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, fingers brushing the backs of your thighs. “Even now. Especially now.”

He stood and helped you in first, stepping in after you. The water hit your skin in a soft hiss, steam blooming around you both. You leaned against the tile wall, too tired to do anything but exist, but he was already reaching for the body wash, lathering it between his hands.

“I used to imagine this,” he said softly, guiding your body under the spray. “Every night, when the lights went out. I’d close my eyes and pretend I was here. Just like this. In our shower. Holding you. Washing your back.”

His hands moved in gentle circles down your spine, over your shoulders, around your waist.

“I missed you so much it scared me sometimes,” he confessed, voice caught in his throat. “Some nights I’d wake up because I thought I heard you whispering my name. I’d look over at the empty cot next to me and wish it was you. I kept one of your hoodies in my locker. Slept with it under my head. Wore it when no one was around.”

You blinked, eyes glassy.

“I would’ve come home sooner if I could,” he murmured, brushing the soap down your arms, then lacing his fingers through yours to wash your hands. “I counted every day. Every hour. Every fucking second.”

He brought your hands to his mouth, kissed each knuckle, and then reached for your shampoo.

When he lathered your hair, he did it like you were fragile. Like if he pressed too hard, you might vanish again. His fingers massage your scalp slowly, lovingly, and when he rinses it out, he kisses your forehead through the curtain of water.

“You’re it for me,” he whispered. “I don’t care how far I ever have to go again—I’m never spending that long without you. Not ever.”

You turned toward him, leaning into his chest.

His arms wrapped around you immediately, one hand behind your head, the other splayed across your lower back. He held you there beneath the shower for long minutes, letting the water fall over both of you as he rocked you gently side to side.

“I love you,” he murmured against your temple. “You’re everything, jagi.”

You lifted your chin and looked at him, eyes wet but not from the shower.

“I love you too, Tae. So much. I’m so happy you’re home,” you whispered, voice achingly soft.

He kissed you then. Softly, and slow, like he had all the time in the world.

Because now he did.

masterlist

[iamgonnagetyouback]

i love the way you call me 'love'⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ mattheo riddle

the library was peacefully quiet, the soft glow of candlelight flickering over the pages of your books as you diligently scribbled down notes for your potions essay. across from you, mattheo riddle sat in his usual careless sprawl, lazily flipping through a book, though you were fairly certain he hadn’t actually absorbed a single word.

you barely glanced up as you grabbed another book from your pile and held it out to him as he took it, his fingers brushing yours. “here you go, love. this one might help.”

silence.

complete. utter. silence.

you, completely unaware, continued writing, casually tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as you skimmed the paragraph in front of you. but across the table, mattheo had frozen. the book slipped slightly in his grip, his breath hitching as the words fully registered in his brain.

did you just—?

he felt warmth creeping up his neck, pooling in his ears before spreading to his cheeks. his heart was doing this ridiculous little stutter in his chest, and his fingers curled against the book cover as if it could somehow ground him.

you, meanwhile, just kept flipping pages, completely unbothered, while he sat there losing his mind.

did you even realize what you had just said? did you mean it the way he wanted you to? was this just a casual thing for you, or—? what were you guys now?!

mattheo had no idea how much time passed before lorenzo slid into the seat next to him in the common room later that evening, his expression nothing short of entertained.

“you’re pathetic,” lorenzo announced cheerfully.

mattheo, who was currently replaying the moment for the hundredth time, groaned. “what now?”

“oh, nothing much,” lorenzo said, grinning. “just that you turned into a literal human tomato when she called you ‘love.’”

mattheo sat up immediately, looking scandalized. “i did not.”

lorenzo simply raised a brow. “mate, you looked like you were about to pass out.”

mattheo opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, pansy plopped down beside him, smirking. “oh, you mean when she called him ‘love’ in the library?”

mattheo groaned, shoving his face into his hands. “merlin’s sake, does everyone know?!”

“yes,” theodore chimed in from the couch without looking up from his book. “because you were absolutely useless for the rest of the afternoon.”

pansy leaned forward, her grin widening. “so what are you going to do about it?”

mattheo peeked at her through his fingers. “do about it?”

“you’re not just going to sit there and hope she says it again, are you?” she pressed.

“…maybe?”

lorenzo let out a dramatic sigh. “hopeless.”

mattheo groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. “she didn’t even notice! she just—she just kept going like it was nothing.”

pansy, on the other hand, looked positively delighted. “that just means you have to make her notice.”

mattheo frowned. “how?”

a slow smirk spread across her face. “call her ‘love’ back.”

mattheo blinked. “i—i can’t just do that.”

“why not?” pansy rolled her eyes. “you’ve got the confidence of a prince when you’re flirting with random girls, but the moment she calls you ‘love’ you turn into a puddle?”

lorenzo snickered. “pathetic.”

mattheo groaned for what felt like the hundredth time that night, sinking further into the couch.

pansy just patted his shoulder. “cheer up, loverboy. i’m sure she’ll call you ‘love’ again eventually.”

mattheo sighed, closing his eyes as a small, hopeless smile played on his lips.

merlin, he hoped so.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[regardtheinnocent]

Contains: SoftDom!reader, Sub!Blade, Gentle sex, Established Relationship, Reader is has a cock or a strap on, Penetration (Character recieving), Pretty fluffy overall, porn little plot.

Ahhhh first post !!!!

\ \ \

Blade wasn't used to this.

He was used to the harsh punches, the cruel words and the deafness to any he needs he might have had—

not this.

Your hands gently rubbed over his scarred skin, taking care to run those fingers of your's along each dip and scrape in his body, or so you called it— "each perfection".

It was true that you never allowed him to feel sourly about his scars— nor any part of himself, in all honesty.

"Beautiful." You'd whisper, your voice only audible to him. And he listened, oh did he listen.

Every soft and comforting word that split your lips was like a warm caress to the bone-tired immortal.

Despite everything, Blade found himself unable to resist melting into your hands.

The stellaron hunter swallowed thickly instead of allowing himself to let out the breathy gasp that had pushed against his lips. He had nothing to hide from you, he knew.

But it was just so embarrassing.

You didn't seem to mind, though.

You happily indulged in your naked intimacy with him, hips keeping a pleasing and slow pace.

Blade couldn't help but turn his face away, unable to hold your intense gaze any longer.

His cheeks were too red, the heat that pooled in his belly was too hot— you weren't even doing anything.

He shouldn't feel this pathetic— not at all.

But Blade couldn't help it, he had been robbed of this for much too long.

And at long last, there was nothing holding the both of you back from each other.

A sharp gasp burst from the man's lips as his rough hands grasped onto your bare back, nails threatening to dig into your skin at any moment.

You chuckled softly, not being able to resist giving another, deeper thrust, letting yourself hit Blade's prostate perfectly.

He couldn't help it this time, there was no way for himself to control his sounds when you were sweet to him like this.

So he didn't.

Blade let out a weak moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he held onto you, feeling your thrusts continue to hit deep inside of him.

“That’s it, angel.” You murmured to him. Your voice sounded so soft, so tender, so loving. It drew an almost shy moan from the stellaron hunter’s lips, which of course was a sound that you reveled in.

“Don’t— M’not an angel- Ah!” Blade tried to protest against the sweet term of endearment, though it was a lost cause. After all, it was if your purpose in the universe was to shower the immortal with more praise than had ever been uttered in the history of existence.

You knew that it would only take a little while longer for your lover to stop resisting your pet names, after all it was clear that Blade’s mind was melting.

“You’re my angel, Blade. All mine.” You whispered back as a heavy breath left your lungs. Your hips lurched forward, allowing you to once more hit Blade’s prostate.

“Fuh—Fuck!” The stellaron hunter nearly sobs, his blunt nails scratching at your back in a desperate bid to ground himself. A useless one, but one nonetheless.

Blade’s cock would sway upwards, nearly hitting his tummy with every deep thrust you did. The poor thing was nearly red with neglect, and pre-cum gushed from the tip in an unending stream.

Your hand that had once been holding Blade's hip, drifted to the side in order to take hold of his cock.

You synced your motions, your hand would move downwards when you thrusted in, before moving back up. Your thumb would rub over Blade's tip when you stilled yourself in him for a moment, then the action would repeat all over again.

It was driving Blade mad.

"Good... you're getting close, aren't you?" You ask in that tender tone of your's. It wasn't as if the man could lie to you, so he nodded his head up and down as he screwed his eyes shut.

You gave Blade a sharp thrust and a quick stroke of his cock before murmuring to him once more.

"Words, darling." Ah.. but he could barely even speak. It was cute to see him try, though.

"Mhm— hngh! Close, close— can I?" Blade babbles almost nonsensically, though you're lucky to have experienced this sort of talk from him enough times to have a good understanding of what he was trying to convey.

His scarred back arched beautifully as you deepened your thrusts, hitting places that Blade didn't know existed inside of him.

"Go ahead, sweetheart... You've been so good." You whisper to him, your voice is gentle, coaxing even.

And Blade can't help but feel safe for once, with your body hunched over his and your breath on his neck.

Its more comforting than it really should be.

Without much warning, cum shoots out of his tip, staining his muscular tummy and even some of his chest. Blade also tightens around you, hard, making you let out a groan of your own.

The poor stellaron's thighs tremble with his aftershocks, and his eyes remain rolled back in his head for a few seconds before they slide shut.

You still your hips, instead focusing on kissing away the tears that still wetted your lover's cheeks.

"Come back to me, dear." Those words leave your mouth in a hushed murmur as you bring yourself to lay beside your lover.

Without much thought, you wrap your arms around Blade's quivering body, bringing the large man close to you as he comes down from his high.

You've since pulled out of him, though that does little to ease the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling.

"...Mngh." Blade presses his face into your chest, wordlessly letting you know that he was fine. It was common for him to be quiet after sex, though that didn't stop the stellaron hunter from acting like a big teddy bear.

You chuckle softly and brush some of his hair behind his ear.

"I love you." You coo to him.

"...love you." He slurs back.

[jiminscockr1ng]

hi! i love your works. can i put in a request? joon or jk x reader. arranged marriage. breeding kink and pregnancy scare. thank you for your service🫡🙏🏾

✩｡°𝄞🍼 TRY AGAIN✨𝄞°｡✩

╝ requested / one-shot ╔

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: namjoon x fem!reader

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ genre: arranged marriage au, smut, angst, a little fluff.

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ warn!ngs: breeding kink, pregnancy scare, mentions (suggestive) of infidelity, degradation (usage of slut), reader is a brat, reader has a high libido, oral (namjoon and reader), squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of birth control, spanking, hair pulling, rough sex, negative pregnancy test, mention of (trying for) children. (let me know if there’s more!)

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ summary: your arranged husband punishes you after causing a scene and acting like a brat.

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 3,765 words

The sounds of slapping bounces off of the walls like gun shots. Your face is buried into the large fluffy pillows on your king sized bed with your ass raised in the air. Giving Namjoon, your husband, the perfect access to spank your behind.

When the sharp, burning, sting— a millisecond of pain and pleasure is inflicted upon your ass again you let out a whimper into the black silk pillow. As the indecent sounds exit your mouth, Namjoon couldn’t stop the depraved thoughts that battle their way through his mind. You just looked so fucking sexy. So vulnerable and submissive before him, he could just eat you whole right now.

But that wouldn’t be right, now would it? After all, you were a bad girl. You brought this on yourself.

You didn’t think Namjoon would just forget about the way you rubbed your ass against that man on the dance floor? No. He’s not that graceful. You’re his wife, for god sakes. Even if you didn’t take this arranged marriage serious, he must show you that he is. He is taking this very seriously.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to have people asking if the woman causing a scene on the floor is my wife? Huh?” He begrudgingly asks, caressing your ass that is two slaps away from bruising.

You deserved it, the way you seductively eyed him while dancing on another man replays in his mind. He best not be fooled by your little innocent and submissive act right now, you whimpering and whining. He knows you’re a brat.

When his parents first introduced you to him, he knew he’d eventually fall for you. Despite the distasteful you held on your face that entire meeting. You didn’t approve of the arrangement, Namjoon knew that. So he gave you space. But of course, one thing leads to another. Especially when you’re flew out to Italy for a honeymoon, a villa all to yourselves. If you recall correctly, you believe the two of you fucked in all 8 rooms. Plus the kitchen… and the bathroom… the couch, the garden, the pool, the arcade room— damn there everywhere.

Needless to say, Namjoon has been pussy whipped ever since. Becoming helpful, loving and caring— all the amazing qualities one could find in a husband. Along with those qualities, he grew possessive over you, rightfully so, you’re his wife. But it seems like regardless of anything he did, you still seemed to show little to no care for the man. Except for what was between his legs. Because babes, the dick is bomb!

Recently Namjoon has been depriving you from the ‘bomb dick’. So you did what any brat would do. You acted out. Unfortunately for Namjoon, that led to complete and utter embarrassment, displayed in front of all of his friends at a work event. But who cares about that, right?!

Because fortunately for you, Namjoon is spewing all kinds of sexy little insults at you, dirty talking your panties right off.

“Do you enjoy being a fucking slut?” Another slap is planted on your ass. You let out a gasp before biting down on your bottom lip. Useless, as to when he grabs a handful of your hair, roughly yanking it back, your mouth falls agape.

“You like that shit, huh?” You eagerly nod your head, so high off of the thought of getting fucked up. This is exactly what you wanted. Namjoon always gives you exactly what you want.

You strain yourself forward to close in on his lips. His lips wraps around yours as you share a sloppy kiss. Your teeth graze his bottom lip as you pull back. What you do next makes Namjoon lose his shit.

You giggle.

Like actually fucking giggle in his face. Without thinking, he grabs your face, pulling you back in for a hot yet desperate kiss. Namjoon’s eyes furrow into it, trying to get some sort of understanding. He needs to understand how you do it. How you act so heinous one second and then so admirable the next. Even now, you’re submitting to him. But Namjoon knows more than anyone that you have him wrapped around your cute little finger.

The hold on your face doesn’t leave as Namjoon roughly pulls away to marvel in your beauty. Your gorgeously melanated skin, your two toned lips, and those big brown almond eyes he willingly falls victim to. There’s a smirk that plasters on your face that Namjoon doesn’t miss.

“Am I being a good little slut for you?” Namjoon couldn’t hide his widened eyes. He’s angry— completely enraged, you mustn’t forget. But as usual, he gives in. Because you’re in control. “Fuck yes.” He whispers out before flipping you over, absolutely manhandling you. Your figure bounces on the bed as Namjoon hovers over you.

“You don’t even know just how crazy you make me.” He mutters in your ear. Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers traveling through his short blonde locks. “Show me.” You lick at his jawline, slowly nibbling on the chiseled edge. “Show me how crazy I make you, baby.”

Without a second to waste, Namjoon lifts up, attacking the buttons of his black dress pants. He slips them down to his ankles along with his briefs, kicking them off to the floor. The thick, long, pink tipped length you desire is revealed. You lick your lips just to make sure you aren’t drooling. He gives his length a few pumps before his hands are replaced with yours. This is what you’ve been begging for, what you desired and needed inside of you for weeks.

Hell, you even danced on some random middle aged man just to get it. You love it! Namjoon would battle that you love it more than its owner. Especially the way you kiss the tip. Like you’re finally meeting the love of your life after years of being apart. Namjoon breath is shaky when he exhales. Your lips wrap around his tip, you close your eyes and let out a moan, sending vibrations through his dick. “Don’t tease.” He says sternly. And you look up at him, his tip still resting in your mouth.

You look absolutely angelic. The way your big doe eyes innocently look up at him with his dick in your mouth. He could just cum at this image alone. “I’m sorry, baby.” You say with a feigned apologetic tone and expression.

Even if you aren’t sorry, Namjoon is immediately relieved once you take his whole length in your mouth. Your nose touching his lower stomach as you slightly choke. The little gag reflex doesn’t stop you from showing your love to the pretty dick. Namjoon lets out low pitched moans as you continue to attack his length, your performance growing messy. Something you quite liked. What can you say? You’re a proud slut.

But still a brat. You back away from Namjoon’s dick, resting yourself on your elbows that are propped up behind you. Namjoon lets out a groan at the abandonment of your mouth. Instead, you spread your legs, quickly slipping off the soaked black thong you were sporting.

“Look,” you say as your hands reach for your wet cunt— fully exposed, you slip your fingers through before showing them to the man before you. “Look how wet you make me.” You say and you can see Namjoon’s dick twitch at that. You slip your coated digits in your mouth, sucking off your own arousal.

Namjoon is actually fucking shook by your pornographic performance. He knew you had a high libido but damn… he think you might even have him beat.

“You want to taste— or you gonna just keep kneeling in front of me.” You raised a brow, growing impatient. Namjoon is in utter disbelief that you’re his wife. He doesn’t know what he did in his past life to get so lucky. Yet, due to the circumstances, he can’t quite figure out whether he is or not. He shakes away his thoughts, though. He can’t ignore the highly appetizing meal that glistens in front of him right now. The meal he dives into.

His tongue ventures through your folds, mouth sucking on your swollen clit. You throw your head back as Namjoon’s mouth brings you the familiar pleasure that you have wholeheartedly missed. He enters two digits inside of you as his tongue flicked at your clit. You grasp onto his blonde hair as he eats your pussy out like no man ever has. “Fuck yes! Just like that.” Namjoon holds your thigh with his free hand, spreading them wider. His fingers move faster inside of you and you can feel yourself growing closer. You scream out an excessive amount of “yes”s and eventually squirt in his mouth.

Namjoon freezes as you release— not once but twice into his mouth. He looks at the way your chest heaves up and down. That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be inside of you now. Without any warning, Namjoon slips his dick into your sex, slowly stretching your pussy out. Your legs shake as he makes his way through. “You feel so fucking good.” He mumbles as he thrusts into your pussy again.

The pace almost instantly quickens, the hunger and need from both of you takes over. “I missed your dick so much.” You say as you trail your hands up his chest, caressing over his thickly defined pecks. “Mhn— you’re such a fucking slut. Causing a scene just to get my dick inside of you.” He grabs your hands and places them above your head, restraining you from touching him.

“You feel so good inside of me— ah!” You moan out as Namjoon thrusts deeper inside of your wet pussy. “Fuh— faster, please!” You beg and Namjoon continues to thrust deeper inside of you.

“You’re begging now?” He mocks. It’s quite entertaining to see, actually. He bends down to grab your face, slowing the pace down to tease you even more. “Oh, you don’t like that, do you?” You desperately shake your head. “Beg me to go faster.” Stubbornly, you stay quiet as your pussy aches around his length that slowly strokes inside of you. His lips rest just above yours. “Come on,” he murmurs softly against your lips.” “I wanna hear my little slut beg for dick.” You moan at his words, growing even more aroused.

“Please Joon.” You bite your lip as the grip on your jaw grows tighter. “Please fuck me faster! I— I need your dick.” You beg.

And just like that— you should’ve braced yourself. Namjoon slams his dick inside of your tight hole. Your body jerks at each thrusts. You scream out as Namjoon abuses your tiny cunt. Your screams could be heard throughout the whole two story house.

You look up at Namjoon who is hovering over you while slamming his dick into you. He looks so sexy the way his blonde hair clings onto his dampened face. The sweat trickling down the sides of his face. The sounds of your skin clapping together and the arousal from your pussy lapping up around his dick is sending you over the edge. You feel yourself growing close again.

Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders as he fucks into you. You’re completely fucked out— your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel Namjoon hit your spot. You don’t even notice when he attaches his lips onto yours again. You feel yourself unraveling underneath him.

“I’m gonna— mm” You say against his lips. Namjoon nods, breathing heavily. “Cum for me.” He slurs and on command you release yourself around his dick. Namjoon lifts up, still thrusting himself into you. You can feel his dick twitch inside of your pussy, signaling his high.

“Cum inside of me.” You say, eagerly. He looks down at you with an uncertain expression but you nod your head. “Please, cum inside of my pussy.” You whine and Namjoon groans at the sound of your begging. “Fuck.”

Immediately, you feel the warm, sticky, drags of cum release inside of you. You moan at the feeling. He doesn’t pull out. Instead, his chest meet yours and the two of you share another erotic kiss.

It’s been two weeks since that night Namjoon had fucked your brains out. Ever since that night, he hasn’t touched you. Most likely still angry about the events that occurred before he fucked your brains out. Rightfully so— even you can admit that you crossed the line that night. Did you mention he fucked your brains out?

Nevertheless, you have bigger fish to fry. You’re late on your period. You should’ve gotten it a few days ago but the red flood never showed.

Yes, you’re on birth control. Still, inevitably you miss a few days because of your inconsistent schedule so it may not be that effective. Especially not when you beg your husband to cum inside of you.

You wince at the thought as you rest your head on the bathroom door. A few hours ago you went to go pick up a few pregnancy tests from the store. You can’t help but overthink while you wait for the stick you just peed on to tell you whether or not you’re pregnant. You try to imagine the possibility of becoming a mother, how you would act and how you’d speak. How Namjoon would react when you tell him you’re pregnant. Him as a father.

You’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the front door slam.

Namjoon’s home.

Your heart rate immediately increases and you pray that he’ll continue ignoring your existence just like he has the past two weeks.

It seems that god is not on your side because you can clearly hear his footsteps approaching the bathroom. Of course he has to go to the bathroom. You just want to cry but that wouldn’t be much help either.

The door handle to the bathroom turns but doesn’t open. The lock on the door stopping him from entering. After a few seconds, he knocks. You flinch at the sound, looking around the bathroom for a way out. Obviously, at a loss when u realize that you’re trapped inside the four walls.

“_______, open the door I have to use the bathroom.” You hear him say behind the door. You look at the pregnancy test on the sink to see that nothing has changed. You silently curse to yourself. Why the fuck is this piss stick taking so long.

“_______.” You hear your name again, along with a few knocks. “I— I’m using the bathroom.” There’s a sigh on the other side of the door. “Well, can you hurry? I’m about to piss myself.” He adds, impatiently to which you roll your eyes.

“Use the guest bathroom!” You shout defensively. Due to you being on the other side of the door, you can’t see the way Namjoon’s brows furrow together. You two never use the guest bathroom even if someone is taking a shit. It’s like an unspoken rule.

“I swear to god _______, open the door. I’ve seen you shitting like a thousand times already.” It’s true, you really couldn’t care less what Namjoon had to say about your smelly poop. Unlike Namjoon who would beg you to leave. But you’re running out of excuses.

“Namjoon, fucking— ugh! Just go to the other bathroom!” You spaz and Namjoon is left with only one thought.

“Is there someone in there with you?” He asks and when you grow silent he makes up his mind. You honestly didn’t know what to say, you were taken aback. How could he think so lowly of you?

“You brought a man into our house _______?” The sound of his voice is a mixture of hurt and anger. And maybe you would feel bad for the man if you weren’t too busy trying to pick your jaw up off the floor. Because… how dare he?

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I bring someone into our house?!” You’re pissed that he would even think you would do some shady shit like that. I mean yes, shaking ass on another man in front of his coworkers is bad but bringing another man into your house while he’s gone… that’s fucking low. Even for you.

“Why?” He mockingly repeats before letting out an unhumorous laugh. “Because you don’t want to be in this marriage, that’s why! I wouldn’t be surprised if you brought someone here just to rub that shit in my face.” You angrily swing the door open, absolutely not giving a shit about the stupid pregnancy test on the bathroom sink. You are livid and now Namjoon is going to hear your mouth. Face to face.

“As much as I don’t want to be in the marriage I still have respect for you and I would never bring anyone into this house.” You shout at him. The man is way taller than you but somehow you’re still all up in his face.

“I don’t even know where you would get that idea from. Unless you had another woman in our house.” You fold your arms over your chest. Okay… you knew Namjoon would never bring another woman into this house. You just had to give him a taste of his own medicine. And the expression on his face is so worth it.

“I would never do that to you.” He says, more reassuring than defensive. “I’m the one who is always desperately trying to make this marriage work. I want this to work.” His voice turns soft and he steps closer to you to grab your hands. You couldn’t even be angry at him. Not when he’s right.

You see how hard he’s trying everyday to get through to you. However, you can’t help but be angry. You didn’t want this marriage and you know it’s not his fault but hell… someone had to be at fault. So you take your anger out on him. Looking up at the man you can’t help but feel bad.

“Look,” he says. “I’m sorry for accusing you of bringing someone here— that was fucked up and I shouldn’t have taken it there. I’m just… a little insecure right now and that’s something that I need to work on.” His explanation makes you want to shower him with kisses and hugs. There’s no way you’ve made this man think lowly of himself. The man is absolutely breathtaking and could have anyone he wanted.

If the circumstances were different you would’ve approached him anyway. He’s exactly the type of man you always wanted in your life.

“Don’t apologize.” You focus your eyes on the ground. “It’s my fault, I’ve been acting really bitchy and giving you a hard time.” Your eyes finally meet his again and there’s nothing but disbelief behind them. He doesn’t even think he’s hearing you correctly. There’s no way you’re apologizing.

“You don’t have to work on anything— you’re perfect, Namjoon. I… have to work on being a better wife.” Namjoon swears he hears fireworks going off somewhere. He doesn’t even think before pulling you into a tight hug. Completely forgetting about the urine that was previously begging to be released. And you forget all about the stupid pregnancy test that rests on the sink.

Until Namjoon see’s it. He hesitantly pulls back from the hug, looking as if he seen a ghost. “Joon, what’s wrong?” You ask, worried that there actually might be ghosts in your house. That’d be a real bummer— this house costed a fortune.

“You’re pregnant?” He mindlessly say, still eyeing the pregnancy test on the sink. Your heart drops at the words, eye widening. “I am?!” In an instant you turn around to check the stick. Picking you up you notice the red line going through it.

Only one red line.

You stare at that line for a moment, feeling disappointed for some reason. You waited for what felt like ages for the test to process. Thinking of the future and what type of mother you’d be, how Namjoon would be an amazing father. And it’s negative.

“It’s negative.” You say and Namjoon can’t make out your emotion. You throw the stick out in the waste bin before spinning around the face Namjoon. “I guess we don’t have to worry about the giving the whole abortion talk.” You lamely say before letting out a strained laugh. Namjoon eyebrows furrow at that.

“You wanted to have an abortion?” He sounds disappointed. He would never stop you from having an abortion— it’s not his place. But the thought of you not wanting to have a child with him did kind of hurt.

You shake your head at Namjoon’s question. “No it’s not that. I just assumed… you know.” You awkwardly fidget with your hands as you try to find your words. “I didn’t think you’d want to have a child so soon.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let out another strained laugh, much to Namjoon’s dismay.

“That’s not funny, _______” His expression is serious. “This is why we need to communicate. I’ve always wanted children— I’d want nothing more than to have a child with you _______” He speaks sincerely and you swear you could burst into tears right now.

You place your hands on his cheeks to pull him down for a kiss. It’s not rough, titillating, or sloppy. It’s a kiss filled with passion and for once there’s a speckle of joy in there. You felt safe and secure in Namjoon’s arms. Your husband. A man you don’t quite love yet but you definitely like him. And you’re willing to love him— to fall in love with him.

Namjoon pulls away to catch his breath. You couldn’t help but smile up at your gorgeous husband. “Thank you… for saying that Namjoon. For everything, honestly.” The blonde haired man is smiling from ear to ear. He couldn’t control the wholehearted happiness he felt— it’s floating along with his aura.

“Mmm, thank you for saying you’ll have my kids.” He says, his smile widens as you let out a little laugh. The dimples in his cheeks so prominent you wanna bite them. “The test is negative, Joon.” You remind him. Just in case he forgot from all of the cheesing and giggling he’s doing.

As if he couldn’t express his euphoric excitement any more than he already has, he picks your body up into his strong arms. His hands resting underneath your thighs as he walks you to the bedroom, his lips on yours.

You pull away, not without letting a goofy little giggle leave your mouth. “What are you doing?” You ask, in complete oblivion. Namjoon smiles at you before quickly pecking your lips.

“We’re gonna TRY AGAIN.”

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[nana-gumi]

devoted f.toji

pairings: fushiguro toji x fem! reader

cw: angst, divorce, mentions of bullying, death, mentions of abuse, starvation, bruises (megumi got into a fight), timeskip, not proofread

a/n: an alternative angst ending. enjoy :)

would everything be different if toji did not sign the divorce papers 7 years ago? everything would but everyone knew that it was already too late for that.

happy ending | alternate angst ending

"i'm back, my love." toji muttered as he wiped his hand on a certain graveyard showing a certain name as he placed white roses above it. today marked the death anniversary of toji's wife, megumi's mother. he didn't brought megumi with him though. he went alone.

"megumi's turning 6." he mumbled as if someone was around to listen to him. "i couldn't do it alone. before. i-" toji paused, gathering the courage to spill out the words he didn't want to utter. "i almost sold megumi.." he said as he sucked in a breath.

"i'm sorry i couldn't visit you for the past weeks." toji caressed the name with his thumb. he recalled the day he didn't leave the grave, even if it rained, he stayed there.

"i miss you." toji muttered. "so much." he added. "i don't know if i am doing things right." doing things right? but what exactly?

"i couldn't stop thinking of you in her." he mumbled as he balled his fist. "ahh, i'm so stupid."

toji leaned his back on the tombstone as he looked at the grass.

would you forgive him if he said the truth? that up until now, he still couldn't move on with his deceased wife.

he didn't even noticed the time as toji stood up from the ground, the sky turning dark when he came home.

-

"where have you been, toji?" you worriedly asked as you approached him but he stopped you by your shoulders. "i'm sorry about what i said last night." you said as you lowered your head. "i didn't mean to involve her again."

"can we talk about something?" he asked, dismissing your apologies as he looked at you.

"uh, sure?" you asked, chills running down your spine at the unfamiliar tone of his voice. it was— sad?

he sat from the couch as you followed.

"(name). you know that i love you right?" he said and you couldn't help but be nervous as you weakly nod. he loves you? you didn't know. "forgive me, (name)." he said as he intertwined his hands together. "because after all this time, i realized that—" he paused as he looked at you. and he just hoped he didn't. "i still couldn't move on." he mumbled, enough for you to hear it.

you gulped the lump in your throat as you sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

"it's okay and— i know." you said as you forced a smile.

"i'll let you go if you want." he said, but do you really want to?

"mh, maybe it's for the best, right?" you said as hummed.

"i'm sorry."

"don't be." you said as you stood up from the couch. "it'll be fine." if it is for your happiness. then it'll be. "well, i guess we'll push through the divorce?" you said.

it was a harsh decision. you both knew that, but maybe it was really for the best.

"you can come visit megumi. i'm sure he'll be glad to see you." he said as he smiled lightly.

"that would be good." you said, returning his smile.

-

was it really the right choice?

toji was vulnerable that night he came home. he didn't know if he really did made the right choice. now he had to deal with megumi's tantrums as they watch you leave.

"mama!" megumi cried as toji held him by his shoulders, restraining him from following you as you walked out of your home.

"mama will visit, 'gumi." you said as you waved him a goodbye.

"mama, don't leave please!" megumi yelled, trying to remove his father grip but it was useless. "mama!" he cried.

was it a coincidence that it started to rain heavily too? maybe the universe was crying with you.

megumi was already turning 13, but ever since you left, not a single day you payed him a visit. he barely remember your face, your voice as you lull him to sleep, you cookings. he missed it. he had to learn cooking at a very young age because you weren't around anymore.

at his age, he finally understood what happened to his father and his step-mother. it was a marriage where there was no love in it.

he was fooled by the people he loved the most.

megumi became distant to his father, and he believes you were a liar for promising that you'll visit him. he waited, and waited until he couldn't anymore.

everyone lied to him. his father did, you did and he thinks he couldn't just forgive you, not until you'll show yourself again.

-

toji was restless on their living room. megumi is still wasn't home. it was around 9pm in the clock when he heard a knock on the door, and once he opened it, instead of seeing his grumpy son, he was met with.. your youngest sister.

"toji zenin?" she asked as toji frowned.

"toji fushiguro." he corrected.

"well that's still the same. can i go inside?" she asked and toji hesitantly let her inside.

-

"here." your sister said, handing him a paper bag.

"what's this?" toji's asked with a raised eyebrow as he took the paper on his hand.

"my sister's belongings. you can keep it."

"why?"

"she wanted your son to have it. she said it's a gift from the birthdays she missed."

"why don't she give it herself?"

"could a dead person do that?" sarcasm was evident on your sisters voice when she said those words. "she—" your sister paused as she cleared her throat. "—died of heart failure." she continued.

he doesn't know what to say, not when your sister was on the verge of tears but she concealed it with a heavy sigh.

after several minutes, your sister took toji silence as the sign to go out but before she could leave the house she faced him again.

"i hope my sister's been good to your family." she said with now a sad tone, only to be met with a younger version of toji who was frozen at the door, band aids decorating his bruised face. she bowed at megumi and walked past him.

-

megumi took out all of the things inside the paper bag. there was a book with a dried purple rose in it, a polaroid, a picture frame of you and him when he was still in elementary and a two knitted scarfs with his and toji's name embroidered on it.

megumi failed to notice a certain birthday card on it. not until it flew down on the ground.

'happy birthday my 'gumi.'

it said on the front page.

"happy birthday megumi! i'm sorry i missed a lot of your birthdays. knowing you, you hate mama now, don't you? i'm sorry i couldn't keep my promise to visit. mama's been busy with a lot lot of things but don't worry, mama will visit you as soon as she can! i love you my baby."

love,

mama <3

-

toji heared loud footsteps from the stairs as he caught the scarf megumi just threw at him before it could hit his face.

"are you happy now?" megumi said as he clutched the dark blue knitted scarf on his hand, identical to ones he threw at his father a minute ago. "mama's dead now!" megumi exclaimed.

"this is all your fault." megumi said, his voice breaking as he clutched the scarf close to his chest. "if only.. if only you stopped mama from leaving."

and toji could only stay quiet, taking his son's anger all by himself.

-

"abused, isolated and was left starved. they didn't feed her for days until her body gave up." the police said.

"i thought she died from heart failure?"

"no. they kept her death a secret and it's been 2 years since mr. fushiguro, how did you found out about this case?"

"(name)'s my ex-wife. i only found out when her sister visited."

"i see. well that's understandable knowing that her death was kept from the public. but worry not, her parents was already in jail. that's the only information i could give you, mister."

-

"what did you want to talk about?" your sister said as she leaned her back on a wall.

"you lied, you said she died from a heart failure."

"that's what she wanted me to tell you." she sighed, placing her hands inside her pocket. both was quiet, none wanted to start speaking but both has a lot to say.

"i was very close to my sister and it hurts me to see her defend you from our parents." she said as she continues. "she suddenly came home saying that you wanted a divorce and our parents got mad. she was treated like a maid in our home. i couldn't do anything. i wanted to help her but she didn't want me to be in danger."

"my parents were furious because your family removed all of the connections they had together with my family and they blame my sister for it. did you found out?" your sister asked.

"found out what?"

"the only reason my parents asked your family to marry my sister was because of your company's money." toji kept quiet and your sister took this as the chance to continue. "my sister didn't want it but suddenly, she told me she was excited for the marriage. she told me that you were the boy she was looking for." she smiled as she recalled that day. "i don't think my sister agreed to marry you because of your company's money. my sister genuinely loved you, mr. zenin."

that was your parent's plan all along? he didn't even knew it because he thinks your sister was right, you really did loved him genuinely.

"i don't blame you for it, mr. zenin. but i just hoped that you didn't let my sister go home that night. maybe her fate would be different, maybe.. she's still alive until now. i didn't even know she was suffering from a heart disease." she said, muttering the last sentence as she chuckled bitterly.

"why didn't she reach out at me?" toji said, mainly asking himself.

"that's what i told her but my sister doesn't want to force herself to someone who threw her away." that sure hit a vein on his heart because in reality, he did threw you away.

"where was she buried?" toji asked.

"you wouldn't find it. she was cremated and i don't know where my parents took her ashes. maybe they even threw it somewhere."

-

toji went home with an aching body as he fell down on the couch.

your parents was already sent at the jail 3 months ago already. your sister was brave enough to tell the police after 2 years of your death.

he didn't know how many hours has it been as he went to his room, walking past his son's room but his instinct tells that something was wrong so he went to open the door of megumi's room, only to see shattered glasses everywhere, his study table and chair was destroyed, his computer also, as he find his son laying on the bed, with a scarf around him. the scarf you made him.

"megumi." toji called as he slightly shake his son and megumi jolted awake as he pushed his father.

"what are you doing here?" megumi rasped. "leave." he said, pointing at the door.

"i got a call from your school. you were bullying someone. is that true?"

"why does it matter to you?"

"megumi—"

"dad, i said leave."

"i'm sorry, son." toji said as he placed his palm on megumi's head, only for megumi to push it away. "papa— dad will take all the blame."

"you should." megumi said but his voice betrayed him. "i hate you."

"i know, i hate myself too." toji said as megumi looked up at him. "i regret everything 'gumi."

"stop calling me that, i'm not a kid anymore."

"yeah, sorry." toji said as he stood up from megumi's bed as he made his way at the door of his room.

" 'say sorry to your papa.' that's what would mama tell me if she's here right now." megumi said.

toji sighed as he finally opened the door.

"i'm sorry. i was just mad. i'm sorry, i didn't mean it. i don't blame you." megumi said but toji was already outside of his room as he closed the door.

he didn't deserve his son's apologies, he even deserved to be blamed because in the first place, all of this could've been prevented if he did not signed the divorce 7 years ago.

"what should i do, (name)?" he asked as if you were around as he fall on the ground as he leaned on the wall.

what should he do to make his son trust him again, he wanted to have the closure he had with his son when you were still living with them.

toji doesn't know what to do at this point, and instead of thinking about his first wife, he just hoped that you were beside him right now, telling him the things he should and shouldn't so megumi wouldn't hate him like how it was now.

he just hoped that you were beside him..

taglist: @xllizs

[kitty384]

Sick Days and Soft Hands

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: A brutal wave of pregnancy sickness knocks you off your feet, and while Bucky can’t take the pain away, he—and the Avenger—do everything they can to help you through it. Warnings: Pregnancy-related illness (hyperemesis gravidarum), vomiting, brief medical mention, emotional vulnerability, soft found-family moments.

You barely made it to the bathroom in time.

The second your eyes opened, the nausea rolled in like a storm wave, violent and unforgiving. Your body felt like it had been hit by a truck. Every muscle ached. Your head throbbed. And your stomach—your poor, churning stomach—gave no mercy.

You retched until your throat burned and your knees gave out.

You didn’t even hear Bucky enter the bathroom until his arm was around your waist, strong and steady.

“Hey, hey—easy,” he whispered, voice laced with panic as he knelt behind you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He held your hair back, pressing a cool cloth against the back of your neck with trembling fingers.

You sagged against him once the wave passed, weak and shaking, your forehead resting against his chest. “I—I can’t keep anything down. Not even water.”

He wrapped both arms around you, rocking you gently. “That’s it. I’m calling Bruce.”

“No—Buck, I’m okay—”

“You’re not. You’ve thrown up five times since last night, and you nearly passed out in the kitchen yesterday.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue.

The Avengers compound had never felt so quiet.

You were curled up in the oversized couch in the lounge, wrapped in a soft blanket, a bowl on the coffee table just in case. Bucky hovered like a storm cloud—standing, sitting, standing again—while Bruce knelt beside you, gently checking your vitals.

“It’s most likely hyperemesis gravidarum,” he said finally. “It’s rare, but it happens. Basically, extreme morning sickness. We’ll need to keep you hydrated, and I’ll give you something to settle your stomach, but… it’s going to be a tough few weeks.”

Bucky looked ready to fight the diagnosis itself. “Can it hurt the baby?”

Bruce hesitated. “If it gets severe and we don’t intervene—yes. But we’re not going to let it get that far. Okay?”

You reached for Bucky’s hand, squeezing it weakly. “She’s okay,” you whispered, more for him than for yourself. “We’re okay.”

He dropped to his knees beside the couch, clutching your hand like it was the only thing keeping him together. “I hate seeing you like this,” he murmured. “You’re pale, you’re hurting… I feel useless.”

“You’re not. You’re the only reason I’m getting through it.”

Just then, the rest of the team trickled in.

Natasha came with peppermint tea and crackers. Steve brought a hot water bottle. Sam had a stack of ginger chews and a look of utter concern on his face.

Tony?

Tony brought a new invention that looked suspiciously like a nausea-relieving bracelet, with glowing panels and wires.

“She needs rest,” Bruce warned, but the room didn’t get any louder. If anything, it softened—like they all understood this was one of those quiet battles. The kind no one could punch their way through.

“Let me sit with her for a bit,” Natasha said, gently taking your hand. “You look like you’re about to fall over, Barnes.”

Bucky hesitated—clearly torn—but you gave him a tired nod. “Go shower. Eat something. I’ll be here.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving, but not without glancing back three times.

Twenty minutes later, you dozed lightly on Natasha’s shoulder, a small trash can nearby just in case, while the Avengers moved around you like some odd little family—each doing their part.

Steve quietly adjusted the blanket that had slipped off your shoulder.

Tony fiddled with his device, muttering something about “frequency regulation.”

Sam gently rubbed your calf through the blanket and whispered, “You’re a warrior, mama. You’ve got this.”

And when Bucky returned, fresh-faced but still clearly strung out with worry, he sank down beside you and just held your hand again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like a steady rhythm.

“She threw up twice more,” Nat said softly. “But she’s resting now.”

Bucky leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closed. “I’d rather take a hundred bullets than watch her go through this.”

Bruce came back in with a gentle smile. “She’s strong. You both are.”

Bucky glanced at you—his whole world wrapped up in one sick, sleeping girl—and whispered, “She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

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Request

[angelicalchaoticabyss]

may I ask for burning spice with a child! Reader that was sold to the temple(?), castle(?), as a servant by readers family? STRICTLY PLATONIC.

Fiery Father

(Note of importance: This is back when he was the Herald of Change, sometime before full corruption. Oh, and Capsaicin is his son for a little extra flair hope that’s okay!)

You felt awful, you felt unwanted…useless. You were from the Pepper Pangolin tribe; you were the child of the current tribe leader…and he didn’t want you. So, your father instead sold you to the great Herald of Change. Burning Spice Cookie. You were taken to the grand temple, brought through its mighty halls and presented to the Great One himself.

He was a sight to behold, truly. With an imposing size, frame, and six arms to match the scariness. Of course, being a child, the moment his eyes landed on you…you burst into tears from both fright and sadness. Scared of the one before you and the feeling of utter betrayal from your family.

Burning Spice Cookie’s eyes widened a bit, before they softened. Feeling pity for the young one before him.

He stood from his throne and walked over, kneeling down and placing a hand on your head. You squeaked but nervously looked up at him, only to see a big friendly grin on his face. The Herald of Change ruffled your hair.

“Worry not little one, you’re perfectly safe here! Hahahah! I’ve been looking for a playmate for my son! I know I may seem scary but I’m going to protect you like I have with many others!” He said with a jovial tone.

Son? The Herald of Change had a son?

Burning Spice Cookie lifted you up.

“Come on now! We’ll get you something better to wear than those rags!”

Thus, started your new job as one of Burning Spice Cookie’s servants. You were given new, nice fresh clothes. You weren’t the best at these things, being a kid and all. But the Herald of Change was very kind and patient with you. Said you were a “little warrior” like his son. Said son you had met the same day you arrived at the temple. He looked to be about your age, maybe a bit older. With Charcoal dough and fiery hair, his name was Capsaicin Cookie. He quickly became your friend!

Capsaicin always found a way to get you to play with him instead of doing your rather small jobs, but instead of being angry or annoyed, Burning Spice Cookie found your childish antics amusing.

Burning Spice, one day, decided to train you with his son. As the Herald of Change and a warrior himself, Burning Spice Cookie easily found your fighting style and what motivated you best. So, he got to work with you, to help you catch up to Capsaicin’s level. Honestly, it felt great. He was like a true father to you, patient and kind, understanding. He knew how to make you happy.

He was so happy to see you get along with his son, and honestly, what you didn’t know is that Burning Spice Cookie considered you to be his second child. Sure, you weren’t jam related but that mattered not to him.

He was happy to have you, proud of you. Your spunkiness, how you never gave up, how you kept trying the moves no matter how many times you failed.

One night, you awoke in the servant’s barracks from a nightmare. You whimpered and made your way through the temple halls. You ended up bumping into Capsaicin, who was awake for a similar reason. You both went to Burning Spice Cookie’s chambers together, and you lightly knocked on the door. There was grunt, then footsteps. The great Herald of Change opened the door, rubbing one of his eyes, looking down at you and his son.

“Hmm? Yes? What is it little ones?” He mumbled.

“Um…we uh…had nightmares…can we sleep with you?” You asked, shyly.

His sleepy gaze softened as he smiled, picking up the two of you and closing the door. He plopped back down into bed and held you both close. He was very warm; it was so soothing that you fell back asleep almost instantly.

Your time with Capsaicin and Burning Spice was great…until you and your friend started to notice the change in his father…and then it all went downhill…spiraling into a destructive mess.

“Bored…I’m bored!”

[svt-meiying]

─⊱♰ ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS ♰⊰─⋅

'Wherever I go, I'll protect you As long as I'm blind with love I'll intertwine my fingers with yours'

❗This post contains some (few) suggestive elements.

BTS ; Kim Taehyung (mar. 2019 - jan. 2021)

. . Their presence around one another was barely more than habitual, so neither truly realized the appeal that the other held, until one day where the older man's arm wrapped around her waist to prevent a painful fall.

. . No words regarding the way their hearts raced in that moment were spoken yet the signs slowly began appearing ; the extended time spent together, the jokes that only they could understand, touches that lingered, and finally the kiss shared under stars that sealed their relationship.

. . The maknae's overprotective brothers were hesitant to give their approvals, yet conceded when they noticed the way Meiying's eyes sparkled every time they were with one another, and at the beginning their trust was not misplaced. Despite their minds having spiraled into painful states around that time they were keeping their counterpart's shadows at bay, caring for the other with tenderness, spending precious free time on dates, holding hands as they braved the dark, soon however the cracks began showing.

. . Taehyung's mental state was making him increasingly toxic in their relationship and it was when no words escaped the young woman's lips even as his voice raised that the realization of just how bad it had become dawned on them.

. . Their relationship was ended with intentions of resuming once both had healed from the chaos plaguing their souls but whilst hovering around one another they came to the conclusion that it was never meant to be anything more than friendship. It took time to mend what had broken between them but now they stand next to one another stronger than before, with endless support for their former lover.

. . The looks exchanged between them no longer hold weights from past mistakes but an affection that only they can understand, the once burning flame turned into a calm breeze. It is not happiness fabricated for cameras that reflects in their smiles but relief knowing that the other is at peace and still at their side.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

ATEEZ ; Choi San (aug. 2022 - sep. 2023)

. . Meiying was constantly involved with the group's discography and since only one year separated the artists, they began getting to know one another past professional boundaries. It was almost inconspicuous ; occasional bouquets, enamored looks, an ever growing protectiveness and interlaced fingers, until it turned into large hands resting on the hips of the young woman straddling his lap.

. . Their relationship began with hesitance due to the heavy media coverage both artists were receiving due to their rising fame and dates were strictly shared under night skies until their hearts began yearning for one another so intensely that keeping distance between them became unbearable.

. . San's loving nature made it easy for the young woman to accept such feelings once more, and the walls that had been built to keep what little was left of her from slipping away came down with his effortless affection. It was love that did not need to be fought to maintain, something that had soft lips rambling on endlessly instead of holding back to avoid useless arguments that would only end in tears.

. . Their bright souls molded into one another seamlessly but eventually demanding schedules began tearing them apart ; messages were left delivered for hours instead of minutes, apologies were uttered in between kisses when one needed to leave, and the fatigue brought about by their work made everything heavier.

. . In the end they separated amicably whilst secretly hoping that the chance to pick up where they left would present itself, but accepting that the timing was simply not on their side. Meiying remains in the group's producing chair and conversation flows easily between them just as it had in the past, but deep down the man's heart still aches when gossip sights upload pictures of her current romance.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

SEVENTEEN ; Kim Mingyu (nov. 2023 - present)

. . Nana Tour provided much shipping grounds to netizens as they acted unusually intimate ; with some clips catching them napping in the same bed, the rapper's arms wrapping possessively around her waist and lips brushing when they whispered words meant only for each other. In truth at the time they remained ignorant to the tension pushing them together, but the country's romantic sceneries slowly shifted the way they reacted to otherwise habitual proximity - their heartbeats quickening with the slightest touch.

. . Meiying's birthday party became the unexpected catalyst to their love story as the drunken group decided to play 'truth or dare', with Jungkook deciding that it would be wise to incite them to kiss under the pretense of believing it impossible. Mingyu's legs moved almost automatically to trap the young woman against the nearest wall, lustful eyes searching for silently given consent in her own before crashing their lips together with hunger that seemed unanswered for centuries.

. . The rapper knocked on the apartment's door after several days of silence and upon seeing the slight recoil brought about by his presence it was no longer desire driving his actions, it was love previously repressed by uncertainty. In the honesty of this sober state Meiying found herself lowered onto the kitchen counter - hands tightening around the fabric covering his torso as he whispered the words that transformed their nine year friendship into something more ; 'I love you, fuck I love you so much, I can't pretend like I don't anymore. I can't stand being friends, I can't watch another man love you like I should. I'm yours...so please be mine.'

. . Their relationship has yet to be made public but netizens have not failed to notice the intimacy that their souls share, the occasional slip-ups when their heads turn to face the other, the muscle memory that makes hands intertwine, and the way their gazes occasionally linger on their suspected lover's moving lips.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Taglist ; @prbywoo

[ryomenslvr]

tagged

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you take the king of curses to play laser tag!

content warnings: just fluff! <3 (not proof-read)

“This is a joke, correct?”

Sukuna’s voice sliced through the buzzing air like a blade. He stood stiffly at the entrance to the laser tag center, his arms crossed and his expression carved from stone. His golden eyes swept across the vibrant, neon-lit interior with utter disdain. The shrill laughter of children, flashing lights, and pulsing pop music grated against his nerves like nails on glass.

“You truly expect me to participate in this absurdity?”

You tugged at his arm with both hands, trying not to grin too much at how out-of-place he looked in this entertainment center. “Come on, Kuna! It’s supposed to be fun. A change of pace.”

He resisted for a moment, planted like a statue, but finally allowed you to pull him forward with a deep, exaggerated sigh. “A change of pace? I’d prefer a battlefield. Or perhaps a feast of flesh and wine. Not this…” he waved at a group of teenagers high-fiving near the lockers, “…childish charade.”

Before you could tease him further, a teenage employee approached with a smile and handed each of you your gear. Clunky plastic vests and brightly colored phasers. Sukuna held his like it was a diseased animal.

His lip curled. “You mortals invent the most useless contraptions.”

You giggled as you strapped your vest on. “Just pretend it’s a cursed tool. Shoot to kill.”

“I do not ‘pretend,’” he growled, but you caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes before he turned away.

The laser tag arena was dim and humming with artificial fog. The walls were painted with glowing murals of space battles and alien planets. Black lights made your clothes glow faintly. The maze of barriers and corridors was lit by the occasional pulse of neon blue or red.

Children squealed as they darted around corners. Teenagers shouted strategies. Somewhere, someone blasted a corny early 2000s song through a speaker.

Sukuna moved like a shadow, eerie and silent. While everyone else scrambled and ducked, he merely walked. With slow, confident steps. He didn’t even lift his phaser.

“Your vest’s gonna get lit up,” you called out, ducking behind a ramp. Just as you spoke, your own vest vibrated with a flash of red. You turned. A little kid stood there, grinning ear to ear, his phaser still aimed at you.

“See?” you said, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “You’re supposed to shoot people.”

Sukuna’s glowing eyes finally settled on you. “You are truly terrible at this,” he said flatly.

“Oh really?” you huffed. “You haven’t even tried.”

“I do not sully my pride with games designed for infants.”

You smirked. A dangerous idea took shape in your mind. “So, you admit you can’t win.”

He went still.

That got him.

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and cutting. You knew that look. That quiet, deadly spark of challenge. “Do not test me, brat.”

“Oh, I already did,” you said innocently, ducking away just as another zap hit your vest.

The next time you spotted Sukuna, it was like seeing a ghost materialize mid-game. He had moved. Not randomly, but purposefully. You watched, mouth agape, as he suddenly sprang into motion. Graceful. Fluid. Deadly. His phaser rose.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Player after player went down, their vests blinking in surrender. Sukuna didn’t stop. He ghosted through the arena, weaving through barriers, hopping onto platforms, and shooting with a precision that was terrifying. He didn’t run. He hunted.

“Sukuna!” you shouted, partly laughing, partly appalled. “That’s cheating.”

He turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder, a wicked smirk curving his lips. “The King of Curses does not cheat. He simply wins.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, chasing after him. Now you had a mission. If you couldn’t beat him, you were at least going to try.

The next few minutes were a blur of color and adrenaline. You ducked under ramps, slid behind walls, fired off desperate shots. You even hit him once, though his vest only flickered and he didn’t even flinch. You swore you heard a low chuckle.

You rounded a corner, panting from the rush.

Dead end.

You froze. Just for a second. Long enough. A shadow loomed.

Before you could react, Sukuna was there. Too fast. His body blocked your path, tall and imposing. He backed you into the wall with a smooth, predatory step. You felt the cold concrete against your back and the heat of him in front of you.

His arms came up. Your wrists were pinned gently, but firmly, on either side of your head. Your phaser clattered to the floor, forgotten.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Thought you could escape?” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that you felt as much as heard. Your heart thundered. “I… I wasn’t hiding.”

“No?” His face dipped lower. His breath brushed your cheek. “Foolish girl.”

Then he kissed you. Hard. Intense. Possessive.

It wasn’t sweet. It was fire. Sudden and consuming. The kind of kiss that left your knees weak and your thoughts scattered like stars.

When he pulled back, your lips were tingling, your lungs gasping for air.

Then—buzz.

You looked down just as your vest lit up again. Sukuna held up his phaser, already retreating a step. “Got you,” he said smoothly, his tone soaked in smug delight.

You gaped at him. “You—! That was an unfair distraction…” You said softly, visibly moping.

He just smirked, already turning away, his silhouette melting into the flashing lights like some dark king of mischief rather than the king of curses. You stood there, flushed and breathless, your back still pressed to the wall.

A small, helpless laugh escaped you.

He had definitely won. But not just the game.

dividers by @/dollywons <3

[mrkizen]

not allowed

tw: dub-con that progresses to non-con, non-consented recording, asphyxiation, forced, crying

don't read if uncomfortable.

jaemin adored you. he didn't love you but god did he love your presence. the way you hugged him whenever he'd do the smallest thing for you. and just the way you moaned his name, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. he tugged at the fabric of his pants just from the mere thought of you screaming his name out of pleasure. etched in his brain.

jaemin finally was able to see you again. he waited and waited for all of your exams to be over so he could get back to his fantasies. you opened the car door. tucking a piece of hair behind your ear smiling at your boyfriend. he smiled back his eyes full with lust. the second he step foot into his car his mind was raided with lewd thoughts of you.

"been waiting all week." he grunted. the moment was ravenous. slamming against the door as he kissed you with such intensity. digging his head into the crook of your neck, littering hickies temporarily on your skin. your hands ran up and down his large torso letting out small whines. breath hitching the second you felt his tongue lap against your skin, his wet warm breath engulfing you.

jaemin picked you up into his arms carrying you to his room still going at your neck and collarbone. "jae...please." your voice quiet while intertwining his hair between your fingers. he lied you against his bed smirking between kisses. finally breaking the kiss to catch his breath he admires you. well your body of course as you're stripped of each piece of clothing leaving you only in your bra. his lips returned to yours thence sensing him rub his tip against your folds.

you immediately shiver the second he thrusts into you. squeezing your eyes tightly as mercilessly pounds in and out of you. "you feel so f'good." he mewls against your ear. "shit...shit. i could do this every night." his pace becoming slightly faster but much more uncoordinated. you felt him chase his high drilling you into the headboard, feeling the bed and floorboards shake below you.

"ouch.." you whimpered as he bit into your shoulder. the swollen red marks on your skin not making this experience any better. your nails scratched at his back as he grunted louder and louder, slamming you into the wooden board. "fuck m'close...just hold on." he states, licking against your ear again. you shuddered realizing how unpleasant this was. tears blurred your vision but as you continued to get rammed into the headboard a blinking red light.

squeezing your eyes to get a clearer viewpoint you recognized the light. a camera taped to the ceiling recording him mindlessly fucking you. the tears in your eyes welling up more as your throat felt as if there was a knife against it. "jaemin is that-" you began to say before he piercingly jammed himself fully inside you. you made eye contact with the camera while he held onto your waist letting his load spurt inside of you.

"jae...jaemin baby is that a camera?" stammering on your words pointing at the very obvious camera above. he turned his head to look pretending to care. "no babe. m'dont really know." he says with fake obliviousness to his tone. you push him off of you standing on the bed to reach the camera. "no look!" you attempted to grab it fearful of what and how much he's recorded. unfortunately your arms with a little too short unable to reach the camera. jaemin grabbed your free wrist pulling you back down to the bed.

your attempt to unlatch his hand was useless. he yanked you completely onto the bed again, pinning both of your hands above your head. "why do you have to be so fucking nosy and touch everything you see?" he growls now completely vulnerable to him. you darted his gaze only staring at the camera in utter fear. "jaemin why..why are you recording us?" your voice breaking in the sentence as tension filled the room. jaemin glared at you, deciding to not answer but to just pleasure himself.


he inserted himself back into you, this time feeling uneasy and uncomfortable. your legs kicked and your head moved side to side while he thrusted into your arousal. "jae stop." you cried, his hand wrapping around your neck. you swallowed your saliva, lip quivering as you gazed back into his eyes.

"this is where being mischievous gets you. the curious cat always gets caught." he laughed in your face watching as it darkened. mascara tears streaming down the sides of your face as he finished once more inside of you. humiliated embarrassment and pain broiling through you.

"i love your body." he mentioned, kissing your forehead.

[jellicatty]

❝ JUST A STRANGER , MAKING LOVE ₊˚ ❞

It felt wrong to accept someone else's lust other than your husband. Five years have passed, yet you still feel sick when mingling with other people. Although your mind acted on its needs, your heart yearned for connection— for Nanami Kento.

╰┈➤ contains : nanami x female reader. takes place five years after his death. sex (but not with him). focuses more on reader. MASSIVE guilt. grief / loss. yearning. empty sex. betrayal. mentions of God. angst no comfort (never). nsfw.

╰┈➤ note : this was so fun to write ! totally enjoyed this and might make more stuff like this ! i might also rewrite this in the future since its a bit messy.

╰┈➤ tags : @lacyohlacyyy mwa

"Are you cumming, baby?"

You weren't betraying him since he was long gone.

God knows you weren't.

Yet, sharing laughter, touches, and pleasure with another man feels treacherous. And unfortunately, a woman's body can only go so far before succumbing to its needs.

"C-cant hear you, love. You want more?" He questioned, deepening his thrusts. You winced at his ridiculous attempt to turn you on, yet applauded at his courage for bedding a grief-stricken woman like you.

The man above you held your body closer to his, carried away by his desires to claim a broken woman— you. Gentle kisses were placed on your heaving chest as his thrusts steadily sped up.

The man above you was simply a stranger. Though going on dates and cuddling merrily under your heavy blankets— he was still a stranger. A stranger to your body, mind, love. A stranger to your soul you happily shared with your Kento. He was a stranger compared to him.

Imagination was the only thing helping you go further. Because, after all those lackluster meets, this man only showed his inability to make a woman finish. But you figured that it would just be the same with every other man because they aren't your sweet husband.

Nanami was different, you thought.

And so, wanting a release, you thought of him. Instead of the stranger above you, was Nanami. It was Nanami exploring your body tonight, caressing your curves, and whispering such filthy confessions.

His grip around your neck tightened, then his hand traveled to your clit. He quickly rubbed his thumb against your nub, desperate to see you crumble beneath his touch.

"God, you feel so good." He breathed out, exclaiming his satisfaction with how your pussy gripped his sex. Grunts erupted from him, but noise was not heard from you, too focused on your world— a world where Nanami is the stranger above you.

However, you should have known that no imagination can replace the feeling of sex with your late husband. And for so many useless nights of trying to fulfill your desires, you now only realized that making love with Nanami was something that could never be replaced.

Making love with Nanami was incomparable to this unfortunate encounter with the stranger. The taste was different too. With Nanami, it felt special. His kiss was indescribable, but familiar, rooted from the years of silent 'i love yous', selfless decisions, and countless of shared memories

You felt like a whore for even thinking that an uneventful, and distasteful evening would amount to what Nanami made with you.

"Open your heart to me."

A complete, and utter fool of a stranger. Such idiocy coming from his blinded mind; loving a woman's soul that died with her husband. His idiot self blinding him so much that he couldn't recognize your hurtful tears— looking at them as something that came from pleasure.

"Please, I love you." And he confessed so with a tone so alike with Kento's that you almost said it back.

I wasn't betraying him, not now or ever.

Please, God. Tell me I have not betrayed my beloved.

You weeped and bit your tongue, cursing at your own idiocy slipping. As his hips carelessly pounded into yours, you begged God to take this guilt you felt far away from you; to store it somewhere else because your heart can no longer be a storage for something so disastrous.

May God forgive you, because you could never, ever, forgive yourself. Never, when you opened yourself to his advances. Never, when you agreed for one night fun that turned into many. Never, when you now lay on your bed, moaning and weeping as you imagined him.

Never, when you betray Nanami like this.

© jellicatty | no plagiarising please (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[hype-queer-fixated]

Nothing's Gonna Harm You, Redux

summary: You are Signor Pirelli's 23-year-old assistant, who’s learned that distrust and survival go hand in hand. After your master mysteriously leaves you behind at Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium, the owner is surprisingly willing to take you in and even put you to use in the shop. Her kindness and stories and most unexpectedly her hands steadily soften your long-held defenses. But there are more than pies in Mrs. Lovett’s shop. There are secrets. Those of the mysterious Mr. Todd upstairs, those of the locked bakehouse below, and those of your own—all of them with Mrs. Lovett at their center.

wc: ~19.4K

tags: reader replaces toby; masochist!reader; canon-typical violence; lethal barbering (briefly); mentions of blood; trauma responses (subtle); implied past sexual assault; canon-typical cannibalism; dom/sub (undertones); rough handling; bruises; outercourse/thigh riding; biting/marking; breath play (hands); temperature play (heated metal); clitoral fingering (reader receiving); masturbation; cunnilingus (Lovett receiving); tribbing/scissoring (both receiving cuz that’s how it works); aftercare; highly recommend pronouncing “ma’am” in your head as “mahm” rather than “mam” but as you like

a/n: this fic is adapted from Nothing's Gonna Harm You by HarleysLittleMonster and Witchfire_Artemisia. The original features Mrs. Lovett from the 2007 Sweeney Todd film; my redux features Mrs. Lovett from the 2000 Sweeney Todd Live in Concert performance. If you read the original, which is excellent, NOTE ITS TAGS.

Read on Ao3 | this fic wouldn't exist without @live-laugh-love-lupone and wouldn't have been a fraction as fun (to write or read) without @thegoddamnfeels

Signor Pirelli pulled you along roughly, growling quietly for you to follow him in a voice as Irish as the beer on his breath. Your cheek still stung from his heavy-knuckled backhand earlier—a chastisement. As if the skill that that other barber had displayed in the square was somehow your fault.

"Keep up, you useless stronza," Pirelli barked louder, his Italian accent and limited vocabulary back on display. You flinched at his volume and sped up your steps, wrapping your arms more tightly around yourself against the London chill.

Your master turned sharply onto Fleet Street and led you toward a darkly painted building on the corner. Two shop signs swung gently in the sharp breeze, one that you couldn’t quite see at the top of an exterior staircase and the other above a street-level door. It read “Mrs. Lovett’s Meat Pie…”—the final word eluded you.

A brief glimmer of hope that you were here for supper was snuffed immediately as Pirelli walked past the lower door without a glance and began to climb the stairs. As you followed, you were able to make out the name on the second sign—”Todd.” A shiver of foreboding ran through you as you recognized it. There was no possibility that your master had polite intentions here.

Pirelli marched through the door atop the stairs, spreading his arms widely in greeting at the man and woman that had turned sharply to face him. As he launched into his boisterous butchery of Italian speech, you pressed yourself against the wall by the door, arms still folded around you. You swept your eyes swiftly around the space, taking in its bareness and utter lack of anything to pocket before lowering your head as low as you could get it.

A few words were exchanged that might as well have been the empty pealing of vesper bells for all you paid attention. But then not a moment later, footsteps approached you and a long black skirt swept into your view as you stared at the floor.

“Oh lawks, look at it now!” The near-shout right beside you made you flinch. “Don’t look like it’s had a kind word since half past never,” the voice said more quietly.

Your eyes steadily rose from the skirt to an apron-clad waist and chest and further to a pale column of neck and finally the sharp-featured face that softened into a smile at you.

“What would you say, dear, to a nice juicy meat pie, eh?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, your eyes flicked automatically from the woman’s face to your master behind her. Her mouth shifted to a small frown as she followed your gaze. You couldn’t see it, but her eyes narrowed as she looked at the man and then glanced over at her tennant. Pirelli waved a dismissive hand at you both, and you looked at the woman again as she turned back to you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you said quietly, and her smile returned instantly as she reached toward you and took your hand.

“Then come with me, love.”

-> continue on Ao3

please leave a comment here or on Ao3—pretty please?

[ssweetleaf]

million dollar man.

summary: you’re sick of seeing people talk down to robert, so you show him just how much you respect him.

robert fischer x afab!reader

includes: SMUT, rob’s asshole dad, kinda subby!daddy rob though there’s no daddy kink in this one, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, a really terrible ending because that’s all i’m good at

✩

“You ready, honey?”

The foyer sparkled around you, big marble pillars and stupidly shiny chandeliers all gleamed at you, causing your eyes to squint and your mouth to open in awe.

Everywhere you looked there were people, all dressed up in their formal attire— cinched waists and satin gloves paired with crisp waistcoats and bow ties, old money, new money, it didn’t matter, as long as they had a good seven digits within their net worth they’d be considered a part of the festivities.

And that’s where you realised you didn’t quite belong in that room, with those people.

“Honey? You listenin’?”

You shook the fog from your brain, eyes flitting to him. Robert. Your Robbie, handsome as ever in his suit, tailored to fit him just right, his tie matching the dark wine colour that was your dress. The dress he had got you and left on your duvet as a surprise. You couldn’t begin to imagine how much it had cost him.

You smiled up at him, small and not quite reaching your eyes.

“Sorry, Robbie,” your eyes fluttered to the floor, “just nervous is all.”

He stepped closer to you, big palms raising to cradle your cheeks, squishing them slightly and running his thumbs along the soft skin.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said, full of sincerity, his eyes so blue and glistening. “S’no need to be nervous, sweet girl.”

You nodded, all bashful now, leaning into his kiss when he pressed a chaste one to your lips.

Robert hooked his arm out for you to take, leading you inside the ballroom with high ceilings and waiters that held trays full of champagne. You took a mental note to snag one of those flutes whenever you had the chance, you needed a bit of liquid courage.

Being Robert Fischer’s arm candy meant staying at his side at all times, with an arm hooked round your waist or a palm to the small of your back, any little touch to tell anyone that ogled— you were his.

His girl.

“Robert, you’re late—” standing straight and proper was his father, peering at him in a look much akin to distaste, not bothering to give you so much as a glance.

You saw Rob’s jaw tick.

“I’d like you to meet Thomas, he’s shown to be quite useful in the business, I’m sure you could learn a thing or two…”

Straight to business. Straight to the insults. The same old same old, shaking hands and discussing terms and money that you hadn’t a clue about— Robert’s teeth were gritted, hand gripping your hip to sate and ground him.

“Lovely to see you as always, father,” he spoke, sarcasm swirling on his tongue, blue eyes swarming and darkening at the mere sight of his own flesh and blood.

The conversation went on for a while before Thomas piped up, gaze settling on your figure, roaming and ogling, staring for far too long at your tits.

“And who’s this?” He asked, eyes never leaving yours. You felt uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly and hugging yourself closer to Robert.

Rob’s brows furrowed, a possessive arm tightening around you further.

“This is my girl-” he looked down at you, fondness and so much adoration swirling in his irises, mouth quirking in a smile when you settled your own gaze upon his.

“It’s about time you settled down,” his father spoke out before Rob had time to utter your name, “but believe me, doll, run while you still can.”

You frowned.

“He’s useless, I tell you. Absolutely useless—”

“I think that’s quite enough.” You took hold of your lover’s hand, tugging him along, “if you’ll excuse us.”

Robert followed along like a lost puppy, letting you tug on his hand and guide him to the nearest available bathroom.

The sparkly green tile gleamed at you as soon as you walked through the door, pushing him through and clicking the lock shut.

“What’re you doing, honey,” he stuttered, swallowing thickly when you pushed him up against the counter, smoothing your palms along his lapels and down his chest.

“No one gets to speak to you like that.” You muttered, frowning, and he smoothed at the furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb, smiling slightly.

“S’alright, baby,” he began, cutting himself off when he saw you shaking your head.

“No, it isn’t,” you spoke, firm and to the point, hands moving to cradle his jaw and cheeks, skin smooth and shaven, so pretty to look at. “do you hear me?”

He chuckled, pressing his hands to your hips, swaying you gently, attempting to soothe you.

“I hear ya, sweetheart—”

“Robert, I mean it.” You swiped at the skin underneath his eyes, palming his delicate skin and marvelling at how pretty he was. Oh, how vulnerable he could be when he was with you.

You stared at each other for a while, eyes flitting over every blemish and dimple, savouring the sight as if the world was coming to an end, shifting to a close.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a chaste one, so soft it was barely there, leaning in close, your lashes fluttering against his cheek bone.

“Let me show you.” You muttered, pressing another kiss, a firmer one, to his lips now, then another, far more desperate. “Let me show you, Robbie.”

“Honey,” his chuckle was nervous, voice cracking and eyelids fluttering closed when your mouth mapped along the sharp line of his jaw. “honey, not here— n-not now.”

You pulled back, an over-exaggerated pout playing upon your lips before you leaned in, mouth pressed to his ear, tongue flicking against the shell when you uttered into it.

“Please, sir.”

He whimpered, broken and whiny, and you could feel him against your belly, already hard and throbbing when your breath fanned along his neck.

“Okay,” he sighed, almost dreamily, bucking his hips against you and holding onto you tight. “Alright, darling, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

He was breathless, seeing stars, sucking his lip between his teeth when you lowered yourself to kneel in front of him, hands smoothing along his thighs, the expensive material of his Italian suit glided along your palms, smooth and elegant before you found what you were looking for.

A bulge tightened his trousers, stretching the fabric, barely being able to contain the sheer size of his big cock, you were sure if you left him any longer a wet spot would form.

“Please, sweetheart,” he was the one saying please now, petting at your hair and smoothing down the tresses, chest heaving at your kneeling form, looking all pliant though he knew you were the one in charge.

You pulled at his belt, tugging it through the buckle, the leather squeaking when you grew impatient with it, wanting it off. Then you unbuttoned him, drawing down his fly, pushing them down along with the tight constriction of his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles.

His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, a long pearlescent string of pre-cum sticking to his skin, mouth-wateringly so.

“So pretty,” you cooed, reaching up to take him in your hand, girthy and long, everything you’d ever need, your fingers barely being able to touch from the thickness. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, darling—” he whined, breathy and muscles tensing. “all for you.”

You hummed, leaning forward to kiss at his tip, stroking him with your fist, slow and sensual, grinning as his breath picked up.

You licked along the length of him, along that thick vein that throbbed hotly, sucking his balls into your mouth one after the other, leaving the stain of your lipstick along his flesh, before taking his cock down your throat, hearing him moan and whimper at the suddenness of it all.

“Oh, that’s it,” he whined, thumb smoothing along your cheek, “good girl, s-such a good, sweet girl.”

You hummed around him, swirling your tongue around him and trying to take him as deep as your throat would let you, gagging around his cock, tears slipping from your heaves.

Robert felt his chest swell, the sight before him so pretty, suckling at his cock, your tears glistening from the light of the bathroom’s chandelier, so lucky he could call you his. His girl.

The ring box in his suit pocket felt heavy when he stared at you.

You took him further down your throat, salty tears slipping down your cheeks, leaving your eyes all sparkly and glistening, gagging around his cock every now and again, the sharp tug that Robert inflicted upon your tresses a big indicator that he greatly enjoyed the constriction of your tight, warm little throat.

“Yes, that’s it, my sweet girl,” he whimpered, hips mindlessly bucking with each downward thrust of your mouth. “So good to me, take care of me so well.”

Hell, if anyone decided to walk past the door to the bathroom they were situated in, they’d get an earful— the crude sound of sloppy sucking and his airy whimpers resonated around the echoey room. Someone was bound to listen in.

You had half a hope that Thomas was outside the door, listening to the sheer pleasure you inflicted on your boy.

“Baby,” he stuttered, whining and pawing at your hair and cheeks, desperate and leaking onto your tongue. “Can I cum? Oh, please, darling, let me cum.”

You took your mouth off him, letting your hand take over, slowly stroking him into your fist, thumb flicking over his head, so sensitive, you thought.

You pouted up at him, somewhat mockingly.

“Don’t you wanna cum inside me, Robbie?” You stared at him, whatching him heave and buck, cheeks all flushed and forehead sweaty, such a pretty, pathetic sight. “Was looking forward to it all night.”

You continued your pouting, adding a little whine to your speech, watching him nod exuberantly and stroking your cheek with his shuddering palm.

“O-of course, baby— wanna cum inside you, just wanna please you.”

You smiled, pressed one last kiss to the flushed head of his tip before standing, moving to lean over the counter, back arched and ass in the air, swaying at him teasingly.

His palms smoothed over your backside, ruching the skirt of your dress to reveal your pretty panties, a pretty shade of pink, a wet spot saturating the fabric that covered your cunt.

He groaned, grabbing a handful of your hips, kneading the flesh between his fingers. He gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw your pretty tits spilling out of your bodice.

“What’re you waiting for, Robbie? Haven’t I been a good girl?”

He nodded, still so red in the face, leaning over you to press his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin; a form of an apology.

“Yes, dear, you’ve been such a good girl. Always deserve my cock, always.” He hummed, pulling back to tuck his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, pulling them to the side and exposing your glistening pussy, juices dripping down your thighs and clit throbbing hotly.

Rob huffed out a breath, cock jumping at the sight before him, before gripping himself at the base, gliding it along your slit and bumping the tip against your clit, tapping it lightly before repeating the process.

“Hurry,” you whined, pressing yourself closer against him, wiggling your hips, the movement causing the ridge of his cock to slip inside your hole.

He pushed all the way to the base, panting like a dog and gripping at your skin, etching finger-shaped bruises into your flesh.

“Feel so perfect.” He whimpered, feeling you clench, trying to adjust to his size, the thickness of his cock stretching you out impossibly— you felt as if he was in your throat.

It wasn’t long before you gave him the go ahead to move, the subtle sting of his size still apparent, though the jolts of pleasure completely overshadowed the discomfort.

You were squealing into your arm, moaning like a porn star with every thrust, squeezing him and hitting your ass back in time with the buck of his hips.

“S-so wet, baby, so fuckin’ pretty, creamin’ all over my cock, aren’t you?” You nodded, yesyesyes, so obscene, you began to cry, heavy sobs heaving from your lips at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Y’the only one that can make me feel this good, Robbie,” you moaned, blindly reaching back to find one of hands, clutching onto it and weaving your fingers between his. “M’all yours, Sir.”

His voice cracked when he whined out, squeezing his eyes shut smoothing a hand over the fat of your ass cheeks.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “baby, m’gonna cum already— m’sorry, sweet girl, just gotta fill you up.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, clenching and quivering around him, feeling the thick veins and ridges that ran along his length thrusting in and out, in and out. “Need it, want you to put a baby inside me, you’d make such a good daddy, Robert.”

His brain short-circuited at your crude words, hips stuttering and eyes going all starry and glossy as he came. Quick ropes of cum painted your walls, sticky and thick, and even with how sensitive his cock felt he continued to fuck his seed into your spasming pussy, your own orgasm washing over you with his filthy sounds.

Not a drop of cum was left to waste, all of it pushed deep inside, and once he was far too overstimulated to be inside you any longer, he stuffed his fingers inside you, plugging you with the Fischer prodigy and hoping with flushed cheeks and a beating heart it’d take.

All he wanted was to see you all round and full with his children. And soon the ring he had bought would be situated pride and place on your ring finger.

Soon.

[haerni]

COULD’VE BEEN ──── 이희승 . the past is a blur, reality was harsher than it usually is. how deep does one could ever love a person?

. . genre : exes w lingering feelings · fem reader hurt comfort time motifs · word count : 1869 . notes . . im in love with heeseung lately </3

you love lee heeseung—you loved him, you did.

there was no denying it, he was an amazing boyfriend—perfect, even. your break up wasn't something you could call a bad ending, far from it. it was a mutual decision on both of you, it was something you both agreed on despite everything.

three years was all it took, three wonderful years of your life, three of it that you would come to treasure in the years to come. coming to terms of remaining as friends instead of strangers, your friends were even more bewildered. because really, who would still be friends with their ex? who would even want that?

“you still have feelings for him,” sunoo pointed out. “don’t deny it!” he shoots as quickly as you try to open your mouth with a quick retort with the high possibility of denying it, he surmised.

“i don’t have feelings for him, thank you very much.” you dismissed, getting back to what you were doing. “we’re really just friends now, acquaintances if you will.”

he narrows his eyes on you, not believing a word you say, but he lets it go with a puff shaking his head.

“you know what they say about exes staying friends. either you never loved each other at all, or you still have feelings—either way you’re not fooling me.” he says a matter of fact, helping himself in your fridge taking the mint chocolate.

you find your friend’s deduction to be ridiculous.

sometimes you catch yourself thinking of how he's doing. is he eating well? still staying up late until dawn because of his games? winning his league games? a small smile makes its way to your face at the same memories you share, somehow a bittersweet taste comes with it, yet it's still tucked away somewhere where your other moments lie, shaking your head away from it as quickly as it came. letting the thought simmer away to the backs of your mind.

lee heeseung was a fond memory you keep, but nonetheless he was just a memory still.

love was something you held for lee heeseung before, you don't really know what to call it now. maybe you wouldn't love someone for a long time as you have loved lee heeseung.

after all, what you knew as your greatest love was too great to be forgotten at all.

—

love was bound to find its way to you again, heeseung thinks.

you were like a force of nature that comes like you belong to everything, to every good little thing heeseung can ever name of. like everything was made to be the way it is just for you

—and somehow he also used to believe he was also made just for you.

that was before the fallout. now he believes that maybe after pining over you for many years and being your friend just the same, maybe this was where he should've always been. not to hold you like lovers do, not to kiss you as much as a friendship does not require, and definitely not to have you in any way that would be deemed more than what relationship you had returned to.

just friends. nothing more, nothing less.

it's useless, though. the glass in his hands is cold. misery was rather more of a warm company to heeseung, too familiar even. the lights at the bar were dimmed down adding more somber to the mood, and it is like the universe is playing some sort of twisted tricks on him. just to remind how hollow it is, how the world was actually big, it's too cold—it's lonely.

everything was becoming too much and not enough all the same.

drinking was never a good idea, it never was for heeseung. you'd always tell him that he gets so lost in it that he forgets just how many he downs and it leaves him away into the night with a smile and fits of giggles that are contagious and slurred words that he always tries to utter.

it's stupid, he was stupid.

but atleast he had you then, the one who would take care of him if he has one of too many or maybe crawl up into his lap when he's gaming away into the night and you'd just do it because you'd rather have his warmth near you than settle with the thought of having him in the same room. or times when you would just run up to him and like it's engraved in his veins to have you in his arms and hold you like forever was never enough of a time to describe how much he wants you. forever was too less of a time, a life with you would be more and to those other lives he will get to have you seems more promising.

forever is too much of a word for lee heeseung. if your lives were to part, may he always find you in the next and the comings. for him to never take another heart that does not belong to you. may lee heeseung love you to every time, to be born in the same universe as you, the same time, the same place.

three lifetimes, three wonderful lives you both had, and he thinks it is simply not enough.

he begs the heavens to let him be made just for you once more. because forever in one, will never be something to call what you have.

eternity suits you better, he thinks.

—

the night strolls, the stars are twinkling with the hopes of catching an eye.

this night feels a little more dreadful than the last. the drink he had down a few minutes ago keeps him warm in the night, setting itself in his stomach. heeseung has spent away the after hours this way, a routine that has eaten him alive to its core. it's not an ideal lifestyle, but he continues anyway.

he strolls without a place in mind, after all he has lost home once and wherever you are, his heart resides.

you are everything that heeseung has prayed for.

as familiar buildings meet his eyes and it brings back some memories he had kept away. treacherous. suddenly he finds himself in your street, a few blocks away from where you are. he can knock, he can ask you, he can stay, but he was a stranger altogether. so, the best thing heeseung takes rather than doing all of those things? was to sober up and leave.

mortality has never been kind to him. and everything he has kept in his heart was torn from its home and never to be returned like the sands that slithers away from the storm.

and he had begged at everything that would hear him. because the sand had gone out of the hourglass too soon than what he had always hoped for. time has never been his friend, after all, what time would be fond of something going against it? fate was too cruel to you. but you had embraced it just the same.

how could he ever subject you to the same fate once more? a string tied to you or not, he would rather see you with the colors of life.

and as if this time—for once, mercy has taken pity on him. because as his heel turns he hears the front door of your home, and he shouldn't look, he shouldn't stop, he should go. but you're just still you, right? the always loveable you.

“heeseung?”

oh how he has missed your voice.

against his very judgement he turns around.

there you are by the porch of your home wrapped in a blanket protecting you from the chills of the night and you seem comfortable, you always are. he stops just as his mind tells him the opposite (how could lee heeseung ever say no to your very being?).

and he couldn't stop—heeseung has loved you for a very long time and it feels like it's the only language he can speak to answer your call.

you descend down on your stairs, with a small shy walk on your feet towards him. he feels dizzy, have you always been this pretty?

he tries to say something, anything, but you seem to knock the air out of his chest every time, he releases a breath he's been holding, “hey.”

if you knew better you think heeseung seemed to be full of life when he is with you, like a flower who basks in the sun. you don't know what to say to him, is there any words to describe whatever you were feeling? he knew everything about you, he read you like a diary he has memorized all his life, when words fail you, heeseung comes to answer it.

you couldn't really remember now why you broke up, too many talks, too many faults, too many problems that pile up as time wanes. but you missed him, you miss him too much now to remember why.

“it’s cold,” he begins. its obvious, but what could he possibly tell you?

it's weird now, his eyes are still the same and yet you find yourself wanting it just the same, “yeah, it is.”

silence passes you, it's not uncomfortable, it's not heavy—you're relieved.

“i should probably go.” he should, but is it a sin to say you want him to stay? you pursed your lips in contempt, you should say something.

heeseung may claim to be someone who keeps his words, but right now his feet feel heavy, like his anchored to where he stands—in front of you. he waits for you to utter anything to him, a small hope of you stopping him. to make it feel it was okay to want you like this, to be in your presence.

the silence beckoned you to speak before you can even think of it. “it’s already late..” it's embarrassing, almost as if you were too left open in his eyes again, “..you can stay, if you'd like.”

a second clock and a pin drop, heeseung adorned a soft smile on his lips and as if he was on the same wavelength as you he utters words he thought he couldn't ever tell you, “i missed you.”

“i know,” and it's not obnoxious, it's a truth that you know well, its a fact that you know deep in your bones, “i missed you too.”

and everything was happening in the blink of an eye, his arms are around you and he breathes your scent in. despite the blanket around you, his warmth burns more and you love it—some things just never change.

lee heeseung will never meet what could’ve been, would’ve been, what should’ve been you in that lifeline. your first life together would always be a mystery to the both of you. he misses you, more than he remembers.

he hopes he doesn't lose you again.

“i’ve got a lot to pine about. i’ve got a lot to live without. so rest well, hm? we’ll see each other again.”

—excerpt from (1500’s), A Hundred Years And A Lifetime, letters of Evan Lee to his wife by a Nameless Laureate poet.