#I can't look at this anymore or I will go insane
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𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄 | J.JK
— pairing | fem!oc x tattoo artist!jjk
— summary | jungkook’s still closing up after a long day of work. she went to his shop right after work and she was drained. luckily jungkook was just the right one to cheer her up
— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)
unprotected sex, cursing, praising, just sex lol
— word count | 1.3k words
— song suggestion | put it on me — austin mahone
Jungkook had been working at the shop all day. All sorts of clients going in and out of his shop.
His employees had already gone home a while ago. He was still closing up for the night.
He was exhausted and drained. He just wanted to see his girl, though she had never left his mind through his shift.
The clock had just struck 12pm and JK’s Ink Lounge had finally closed up for the night. It was late, and she was barely getting off work around the same time as well.
He hadn’t seen her since last night because of their busy schedules.
She was a nurse and would work insane hours at the clinic. The two hadn’t had a work break in quite some time.
A knock was heard on the locked door of the shop. “We’re closed!” Jungkook called out before looking at the door, realizing it was actually his girlfriend, not a customer.
“Oh shit.” He cursed to himself, getting out and unlocking the door for her.
Jungkook's face lights up when he sees her enter his shop.
“Sorry baby. I forgot my key.” She apologized, pecking her boyfriend’s lips.
“It’s okay beautiful. What made you come here? Aren’t you tired? I thought you were at home.” He asked her, a hint of concern in his voice.
“Wanted to see my boo.” She hummed. “Never get to really see you anymore.”
He exhaled, “Yeah I know.”
“I got dropped tonight so I thought my lovely boyfriend would pick us up dinner on the way home.” She fluttered her lashes cutely.
“Anything for my baby.”
“I’ll help you close. Just do your online stuff and I’ll clean.” Y/n walked to the front desk, setting her purse down.
“No no baby.” Jungkook stopped her. “You gotta be tired Y/n. I don’t want to do that to you.”
“It’s not that bad baby.” She chuckled, grabbing some cleaning products to properly prep the studio. “I want to help you.”
Y/n could almost run the studio on her own. She knew everything and was more than willing to help her man out.
“You’re so amazing.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll hurry.”
“No rush.” She shook her head, getting straight to cleaning.
The two worked on the closing duties, making sure every part of the studio was ready for tomorrow.
“How was work today baby?”
“It was okay.” Y/n shrugged. “I’m so drained.” She complained, taking a seat on his lap.
Jungkook immediately notices her drained expression, and his face falls. He pulls her into a tight hug, rubbing her back soothingly. "What happened, mama?"
“Short staffed again so I was kinda irritated.” She sighed.
He sighs softly, understanding her fatigue all too well. "You know I'm here for you, mama. Always."
His thumb gently strokes the side of her face, trying to ease her stress. "Why don't you let me take care of you for once?"
“Mm no. It’s my job to take care of you.” She protested.
He chuckles softly, shaking his head at her stubbornness. "That's my job, mama. You're too tired to argue, and I can tell you need some pampering."
“You’re so hard working baby. You’re better than me because you can take so much.” He hummed. “Sorry about your day baby.”
His thumb gently traces the outline her lips, before gently kissing them. "Let me take care of you tonight.
“Please.” She gave in, “I need it.”
"You're too beautiful to say no to." He carries her to a guest futon and sits down with her, his arm around her waist as he kisses her once again.
He groans softly, kissing her deeper and harder as his hands begin to roam her body.
"You know what I'm thinking about, pretty?" He whispers into her ear, his lips brushing against it. "I can't wait much longer. I was fucking trying to wait until we got home but— shit I can’t.”
“So fucking pretty” He whispered.
He begins to undress her, kissing every exposed inch of skin.
“Been wanting this for so long.” She spoke, “We never have time anymore.”
He groans as he hears that, his hands cupping her ass as he her you closer to him.
"Fuck I know pretty. I've wanted it just as bad you have no idea.” He lifts her up and positions himself before lowering her onto him.
“Haven’t seen you in so long.” She mumbled. “Haven’t touched you in forever.”
He nods in agreement as he thrusts up in her. "I know, baby. I've missed this too." His hands roam her body, touching every inch of it as he whispers sweet things to her.
"I love you, mama. You're so fucking beautiful." He croaked out.
His hands travel down her body and between her legs, rubbing her in just the right spot as he watches her with lust-filled eyes.
“Mm” She hummed.
Jungkook’s eyes darken at her soft moans as he leans in closer. "Do you want me to fuck you now, baby?"
He whispers hotly in your ear before nipping at her earlobe. "Because I want to fuck you so fucking bad right now. Just say the word.”
“Jungkook please. Want this so bad.” She whimpered
He growls at her whines, pulling out of her before flipping her over and pushing back into her. "Like this, baby?"
His hips piston in and out of her as he holds onto her hips, tugging her back into him as he thrusts forward.
“Fuck Jungkook— yes.”
He smirks as he listens to her pleas for more.
"Yes, baby?" He leans over her, his chest pressed against her back. "Do you like it when I fuck you rough?"
He moans at her words, his thrusts getting faster and harder. "Yeah, baby. You like when I fuck you rough like this hm? You're such a good girl for me."
He bites down on her shoulder as he reaches around and starts rubbing her clit. “So good for me.”
He smirks against her skin, feeling her getting closer to her release.
"That's right, baby. Cum for me. I wanna hear you scream my name." He thrusts into her a few more times before reaching down and starting to rub her clit furiously.
Her legs were shaking and her body was reacting all too well to his touch.
Jungkook was reaching his orgasm as well, trying to chase it with hers.
“Fuck I’m cumming.” She whined.
He groans at her words, feeling himself getting closer to his own release. "Yeah, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock."
He thrusts into her as hard as he can, triggering her orgasm. "Fuck” Jungkook cursed.
“Feels so good— shit” she whimpered.
He growls at her words, feeling himself getting even closer to his release. "Yeah? Mm gonna cum all inside this pussy."
He thrusts into her a few more times before he couldn't take it anymore and cums inside her with a loud groan, filling her up.
“Shitttt” She panted, looking at how messy her pussy was because of them.
He pants hard, his forehead resting against hers as he tries to catch his breath. "Damn, baby. You felt so fucking good."
He smirks and kisses her lips gently. "Thank you, you always let me fuck you so good."
“Anything for you my love.” She giggled. “I can’t believe we had sex in here again.”
He lets out a chuckle, kissing her forehead. "Yeah, I know. I can't help it though. Everytime you walk in here I know I’m done for."
He smirks and kisses her again. "You always make me so excited.”
“You’re just lucky I can’t resist.” She laughed. “Let’s clean now so we can go get food. I’m fucking starving.”
He nods. "Yeah, let's clean up. My stomach is killing me." He pulls out of you and helps clean her up.
“I’m not done with you once we’re home.” He mumbled. “Once that food in my system I’m ready to go.”
“You can’t be serious.” She laughed.
#bts smut#jungkook smut#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic recs#jeon jungkook#jjk x reader#jimin and jungkook#jungkook fiction#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#bts jungkook#jeon jungkoooook#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jjk#jjk spoilers#jeongguk x reader#jeongguk smut#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungguk#jeon jk#bts jimin#bts#bts army#bts pjm#bts updates#bts x reader
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we'll just pretend ᯓ ᡣ𐭩
not friends not lovers... erm what are we
⇴ person a's arms are wrapped around person b's shoulders while person b is scrolling on their phone. person c is looking at them incredulously.
⇴ dating rumors but they don't deny them
⇴ "so you wouldn't mind if i got with person c, right?" "no, i would mind." "...why?" (silence)
⇴ feeling truly happy with specifically the other person. they bring out something so personal and guarded by being around them.
⇴ nobody makes person b laugh harder than person a. even when person a isn't trying to be funny, person b is so giggly around a that all their friends look at b as if they're crazy.
⇴ "person a? what? no, we're just friends." "but you wish there was more, don't you?" "oh you have no idea."
⇴ person a's future isn't right if person b isn't right next to them. bonus points if it's something especially insane like person a and b live together and have a family.
⇴ person a + b are sitting in a car together late at night just talking, and then person b's eyes are hyper-focused on person a's lips and person a is about to short-circuit.
⇴ "and so... um–so i was saying..." "keep going." (person b says while staring at person a's lips)
⇴ "why are you here? i thought you'd want to be out with your friends right now." "yeah, well i wanted to be with you more. you're one of my friends too, anyway." (person a and b both die inside after this)
⇴ "well obviously i'm never gonna tell them! they matter so much to me, romantic interest or not. how could i ever live with myself if i messed up all of that?"
⇴ "i know what's real, and i know what's fool's gold. is there anything genuine between us or not?"
⇴ person a mentions something offhandedly, but person b remembers it forever (bonus points of b gets it/does it for a)
⇴ "sometimes, i wonder if you're real. it's like you're made for me." person a hesitates after saying that to person b, "you're my best friend."
⇴ person b can't take it anymore and grabs person a's face, hinging themselves onto person a's lips because they've (person b) wanted this for so long.
#keyotosprompts#fluff prompts ⋆˚✿˖°#writing prompts#otp prompts#writeblr#writing#otp writing#imagine your otp#dialogue prompts#romance prompts#prompts#story prompts#writing prompt#writing ideas#romance writing#prompt list#writing inspo#creative writing#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#otp ideas
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Don’t you think that the public has forgotten about Ukraine and the genocide that is happening there?
Hi. That's a tricky question. If I answer yes, then people who do still care will be upset. When in frustration I write that no one cares, there are always people in the notes telling me that they do care very much. These people exist, of course. But most of them have either friends or family from Ukraine, or have Ukrainian roots themselves. There are always exceptions, but they are few and far between. It also depends on the country. I have the impression that people from the Baltic states and some neighboring countries still do care about Ukraine. It's a war close to their home, they risk becoming russia's next victim, and most of them have suffered from russia before.
The fact that fewer and fewer people care with each passing year is not surprising. The shock factor from seeing bombed apartments and flattened cities wears off quickly, it gets old, becomes a new normal. As we always knew it would. Since it's not news anymore, most of it doesn't make it to the mainstream media, you have to actively search for the war updates rather than seeing them everywhere.
Popular posts from the far-left where they compare Russia to Israel illustrate really well just how little people know about this genocide, about the russian invasion. How little they want to know. They write something like "imagine if russia did THIS in Ukraine, there would be immediate international outrage and brutal repercussions!!!", while in reality russia has been doing THIS and worse the whole time, not just since 2022, but much earlier, and not only in Ukraine. Some people close their eyes and cover their ears to live in this fantasy where russia can do no wrong, and if it did, it would have been punished for it. As a Ukrainian suffering from russian unprovoked aggression, this notion is really hurtful to see.
I'd say that being a Ukrainian on tumblr is even worse than being a Ukrainian on twitter. The genocide of your nation is mostly ignored here and if not, then often denied. (again, not by everyone, please don't take this the wrong way!)
While I was typing all this, I thought - why bother? You can simply look at my (or blogs similar to mine) recent posts about this genocide, look at the number of notes, but most importantly, see how many of those who reblogged are my fellow Ukrainians. The majority. It wasn't like that in the first six or so months of the invasion. So yes, people care very little, but I can't blame the whole world for that or else I'll go insane.
I have currently only a few hours of electricity a day and I waste the time answering depressing questions or thinking how to answer them. *sigh*
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Modern-ish Steddie AU where they meet in jail.
Steve shouldn't even be here; he got arrested for shoplifting, but it was all a misunderstanding. He was actually trying to prevent a shoplifting when he saw a couple of kids stuffing chocolate bars into their jacket pockets. They bolted, and he chased after them; unfortunately, he was still holding a bottle of (rather expensive) wine in hand as he did that, so he ended up the perceived cause of the blaring store alarm while the two shitheads escaped with zero consequences.
The store's got security cameras. So it will probably be fine, right? It will all be resolved soon enough. Steve just has to wait.
What makes him more nervous is the guy he's sharing the cell with.
Wild curly hair, tattoos all over his exposed arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt, the man wears orange like he was born in it. He seems to be about Steve's age, in his early 20s, but it's hard to tell. When Steve's brought in, he's lounging carelessly on his bed, trying to fold a piece of toilet paper into what looks like a crane.
The guy looks dangerous; who knows what could provoke him. Steve just settles quietly into the corner of his own bed at the opposite wall, drawing his knees up to his chin and trying to keep his head down. Literally.
Except every time he glances up, the man's rather intense stare is on him. Five minutes into this awkward silence, Steve can't handle it anymore, so he clears his throat and speaks up, still choosing to look at the floor.
"So, uh... what are you in for?"
He cringes immediately. It's probably the worst possible question to ask, and one most likely to get you a punch in the face. But when Steve looks up, he finds his cellmate fully grinning, now busying himself with tearing the toilet paper into little bits.
"Oh, just a bit of murder," he answers casually. "Our lord Satan requires sacrifice, you know."
Steve's almost convinced the guy's fucking with him (because surely, murder suspects are placed in separate cells from the minor offense folk, right?) but he's still a little terrified.
The guy (Eddie, Steve finally learns the name, although that might not be a real one) keeps talking, throwing balls of paper into the toilet by the wall. He keeps missing; there's little bits of white all over the floor already.
He says he's been to prison twice. Grand theft auto and arson. Escaped both times, apparently. He's planning an escape right now, too. Goes on, with a manic grin and wild gestures, about how one of the guards is actually a member of his cult, has got him covered.
It all has to be bullshit. It has to be. Steve doesn't dare comment on it, because at the small chance that it's actually true, he's fucked if he pisses this guy off.
A single paper ball finally lands inside the toilet, and Eddie whoops so loudly that Steve almost jumps.
"Aaaand the crowds cheer, boys'n'girls all going wild screaming his name!" Eddie yells, rapidly drumming his palms on his thighs. "It's the rising star of the new hot game of pottyball, it's Eddieee Munsooon!"
Yeah, so whatever the man was or wasn't lying about, Steve's not about to engage. Eddie's clearly all kinds of insane, he thinks, watching out of the corner of his eye as the guy, seemingly over his silly little game, starts wrapping the toilet paper around his head like a turban.
Except five minutes later, Eddie apparently decides that Steve's much better entertainment than toilet paper. He rolls off the bed and strolls across the tiny cell, stopping right in front of Steve, who in turn is doing his best to become one with the concrete wall behind him. With a shit-eating grin, Eddie strikes a pose, hip jutted out and one hand trying to keep the unsteady headgear in place.
"D'you think I look like a beautiful prince, Stevie?" He asks, batting his eyelashes. (Oh god, why did Steve tell him his real name, what was he thinking.) "Would you go on a magic carpet ride with me?"
Steve can't help it. He bursts out laughing. It almost sounds like Eddie's trying to flirt with him, except Steve stands by his insane conviction, because who the fuck flirts like that?!
The laughter doesn't seem to deter Eddie. He's grinning even wider now, and then he plants both hands on the bed on each side of Steve and leans in, tilting his head.
"Well aren't you pretty when you smile, princess."
Cold sweat runs down the back of Steve's neck as a sudden implication of what might be happening here hits him. He's only heard about it from like, movies and stuff, but does this actually happen? Oh shit. Is Steve gonna become this guy's prison bitch? Jail bitch, technically?
What's worse, a tiny voice in Steve's head suggests that maybe it's not so bad, actually. Eddie's a lunatic, but at least he's hot. (Really hot, if Steve's honest with himself.) And terrifying, so nobody would mess with Steve so long as he's Eddie's... whatever.
Thankfully, Steve's saved from further contemplating his hypothetical future prison life by a key rattling in the cell's lock; Eddie immediately leans back and jumps across the room, so by the time Chief Hopper steps through the door, he's already sitting cross-legged on his bed, hands folded in his lap, a picture of pure innocence.
Hopper turns to Steve first, something apologetic in his voice as he says, "We viewed the security camera footage, you're free to go, Harrington."
With a relieved huff, Steve scrambles to get up. Meanwhile, Hopper turns his attention to Eddie, regards the half-fallen-apart ridiculousness on his head, rolls his eyes and heaves a tired-sounding sigh.
"You too, Munson. Next time someone dares you to streak through a public space, just pick truth instead, would ya?"
Ten minutes later, they both walk outside in their street clothes. Well, Steve's in his street clothes; Eddie's only garment is a thin grey medical blanket Hopper's helpfully provided him with. Eddie's wrapped it around himself like a toga.
"So..." Steve turns to him and smirks. "How much exactly of what you said in there was total bullshit?"
Eddie cackles at the question. "I'd say about... ninety percent. I clearly am a rising star of pottyball, you know." He waits a beat for Steve to laugh, then adds, "And you do have a very pretty smile."
Steve bites his lip, feeling heat in his cheeks at the compliment. In the light of day, outside the cell, it's like he sees Eddie for the first time, in his silly blanket toga, squinting at the bright sunlight. And he feels ridiculous about ever thinking this man could be dangerous. Insane? Probably. Full of shit? Oh, definitely. Hot? Yes, very much. Dangerous though? Laughable.
And so, Steve finds himself asking, "Wanna get coffee and tell me something real about yourself?"
Eddie looks surprised by the offer, his smile turning a little bashful, and he hides behind a lock of hair before looking down at himself and chuckling.
"I'm probably gonna need some clothes first."
"Nah," Steve teases, briefly checking him out. "You're rocking this outfit."
"And you're absolutely right, I am, but unfortunately this thing is about five seconds from falling apart," Eddie pointedly fixes the half-loosened knot on his shoulder. "And something tells me Hopper won't be so lenient about repeated public indecency."
Steve giggles and finally takes pity on the guy. "Okay, my car's parked, like, two blocks from here. I have some clean gym clothes you can borrow."
"Lead the way, pretty boy," Eddie grins and follows him with a goofy little twirl.
Divider credit
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The Arcana M6 Getting Ready For Bed
AN: because I'm sleepy AND alone, and it's late so no judgement lol
Asra
This man will sleep anywhere, any time.
His before-sleep routine is usually just shedding a few layers of clothing (I mean boots and jackets and stuff you perverse neanderthals) and then cramming himself into a space that he deems comfortable
Hair care? Pbbffftt, no, he doesn't do that, MC (how do you think he maintains hair that fluffy, of course he has a hair care routine)
After their hair care they tend to grab the nearest object and snuggle it before they sleep
Guess what the nearest object usually is
BINGO, it's you
Nadia
Bedtime preparation with Nadia usually means working through an extensive list of self care requirements
If you want to sit with her while she nourishes and brushes her hair, and bathes, and brushes her teeth, and moisturizes, and washes her face, and waxes her legs, and exfoliates, and does nightly stretches, and changes into her nightdress, she'll definitely appreciate your efforts. You'll recieve a smooch on the forehead or something
You cannot fathom how Nadia manages to keep up with all her nightly routines
Julian
Bitch you thought he was going to bed?
The bedtime routine with Julian is often just him refusing to sleep for longer than he should, and then you needing to haul his bony ass into bed
Other times, you end up lounging around with him while he works, head in his lap. This is more bedtime prep for you (because he won't rest at all), especially when you can't fall asleep. The sound of his quill on paper is insanely therapeutic
And other times, he gets blackout drunk and his bedtime routine is sobbing into the bar table before letting out the most horrendous gut wrenching snore
Muriel
Originally, Muriel's bedtime prep was literally just him laying down on the ground (either fully dressed or completely not) and shutting his eyes
Nowadays it's still a little basic, but it's a lot more healthy than what it used to be
He usually just puts his hair up, brushes his teeth and crashes in the bed. The clothing thing doesn't really apply anymore because he sleeps in a bed and shoes + bed = sin. Oh, and also he doesn't want to sleep in his panties with you around /hj
It's worth mentioning that if you buy him pajamas he will wear them, regardless of what they look like. You shouldn't abuse this, of course. Buuuut if you wanted to buy him an otter onesie–
Inanna will make fun of him for the onesie for the rest of her life
Portia
Portia is very consistent, that's for sure
Her nightly bath is very much needed, more so in the warmer months, as she is super busy throughout the day
Your bathroom always smells nice
When you're in town you end up buying her soothing smelling soaps and shampoos and all that
Asks you to heat the water beforehand (then every night, without fail, asks you if you want to join)
Then she gets dressed, does basic hygiene things, and crawls into bed with you, immediately falling asleep
Lucio
Much like Nadia, he also engages in extensive self-care before bed
Or at least he USED TO. Damn you, nomadic lifestyle
His skincare routine has gone from twenty-eight steps to only twelve, and it devastates him, like an immense amount
It still takes him an annoying amount of time to get ready for bed, but you can't imagine what it used to be like
He always waits for you to be laying down before he takes his heels off (he's worried about seeming short)
"MC, is my hairline receding?"
You regret buying him a pocket mirror as he will not shut up now
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You Drive Me Wild - Nikolai x OC
It's October 1990, and Nikolai is a soldier, guarding the Soviet embassy in Copenhagen. It's a dull assignment, with dull comrades, the only bright spot of his station the days away from the embassy, when he can get to know this new city and her people. It's one of these nights when a woman he's been dreaming about walks into a smoky bar, and into his arms at last.
Contains: Alcohol, smoking, age-gap relationship, plain text is "translated" Russian (Since it is Nikolai's perspective), English in italics, pining, low-key hero worship, oral sex, unprotected (oops) sex. (Let me know if I missed something!)
~7.3k - MDNI!! - Intended for mature audiences
Read on AO3
Copenhagen, October 5th, 1990
Copenhagen was… Alright.
Nikolai had gotten a cushy sort of assignment, thanks to Natalia’s connections, guarding the Soviet embassy. Mostly all he had to do was stand around and look threatening, check identification at the gate, occasionally follow the ambassador around to some function or another. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t exciting. It just… was. Days bled into each other like cheap watercolour paint, edges blurred and indistinct. The routine chafed at him. He had gotten too used to freedom, running wild between Leningrad and the farmhouse out in Kyrelia, skipping school and occasionally helping his uncle with work, which was more likely to end in real action than anything he did at the embassy. A high-speed car chase through fields of rye was good fun, and a knife-fight in a back alley was better.
Still, there was a certain thrill to getting out of Russia— A few runs across the border into Finland hadn’t given him much idea of what life was like outside, and he was eager to taste what the West had to offer him. He spent every moment that he could off base, practising his languages, picking up pretty brunettes (English and American ones, when he could), listening to music that hadn’t been approved by any government agency, played in basement bars, laced with anger and heavy guitar, the air heavy with smoke and the smell of sweat. He would have spent too much of his meagre salary going out to bars around the city, if he didn’t so often wind up with more cash in his pockets than when he left, betting on games of pool and poker and winning more often than not.
He had a few favourite establishments, ones with a higher turnover rate of tourists. It was harder to shark the same people twice, but cocky American tourists provided good hunting for a fresh-faced soldier who was oh so good at pretending to be a simple country boy. It was their own arrogance that lost the games before they had even begun. Nikolai had no qualms about using that American bluff and bluster to his advantage. This particular bar was near some of the embassies and plenty of hotels, and he’d already made a hundred American dollars playing pool with chain of unlucky marks (So typical of Americans to carry their own currency in another country). He sat at the bar considering his next move. He felt no particular urge to play any longer, or to return to his comrades, sitting at a table on the other side of the crowded establishment. Perhaps he would try his luck with the table of leggy blond women in the back corner of the smoky bar. One of them had been throwing smiles his way for the past half-hour. Pussy was pussy, even if he did prefer brunettes with thick, muscular thighs.
“You should play another round of pool,” Ivan, one of his fellow embassy guards said in his ear, half crashing into him from behind, knocking Nikolai into the bar and nearly spilling his beer. “There is a beautiful woman who’s about to beat a couple of Germans, you could have next game.”
Nikolai made a disgruntled sound. “I’m done for tonight,” he said, draining the rest of his beer. “You play her.” He had neglected to return to the table with Ivan and the others for a reason. He was tired of the usual posturing and boisterous behaviour already, and they had really only started in on their night. They often made fun of him for calling it early, or not trying to keep up with them, but it was always his turn to feel superior in the morning, when they could hardly open their eyes.
“Ah, come on, Kolyan. I can’t speak German or English. She will look at me like I’m a fool if I try to speak to her.” Ivan relied too heavily on Nikolai when it came to women. He made no effort to learn other languages, putting him at a disadvantage talking to local and tourist alike in Copenhagen, where Danish, English, German and even French were the best bets for communication.
“Maybe she speaks Russian.”
Ivan scoffed. “Unlikely. She looks American.”
Nikolai rolled his eyes, but turned to look, rewarded with the sight of a round ass wearing a pair of blue jeans bent over the table. A brunette, with shiny, slightly curling hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a leather jacket. Judging by the looks on the faces of the two blond giants across from her, she was about to clear the table. And she was just Nikolai’s type, by the shape of her.
He ordered two shots of whiskey, and when he turned to look around again, the woman had circled to the other side of the table. Nikolai’s heart stammered to a stop for a moment, bounced against the bottom of his stomach, and lurched back into motion as it landed hard in it’s usual place.
Helena.
She sank the eight ball, grinning like a wolf, her red-painted lips stark contrast against her white teeth. “Sorry, boys. That’s game,” she told them in that pretty English accent of hers. “Better luck next time.”
Nikolai slapped a few krone on the bar and picked up the shot glasses, sidling up to Helena, setting them on the water-stained wooden edges of the pool table. “Lena,” he said, puffing himself up a bit. He had no need to pitch his voice lower now, or pull himself ramrod straight to give him the extra height. He was undoubtedly a man now, with a days worth of stubble on his chin and enough experience with women that he would not turn pink or stammer when she looked at him. She would have to see that. “Have a drink with me.”
Her attention snapped away from the Germans and to him, eyes devastatingly sharp on their first pass, until recognition softened her features with a smile half a heartbeat later. “Kolya?” she asked. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she seized him around the neck, pulling him into a tight hug.
Nikolai wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her in a tight circle, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and sweet, spicy perfume. He was a lot taller than she was now, and she fit into his arms better than a dream, with weight and substance. The last time he had seen her, three years that felt like a lifetime ago, they had been the same height.
“I’m a soldier now,” he told her as he set her back down on her feet, his hands lingering on her hips just a moment longer than necessary. He had no desire to let her go, but he did. “Stationed at the embassy. Aunt Talia pulled strings. It’s an easy assignment.”
“They made you cut your hair.” She rubbed a hand over his head, her hand sliding down the back of his neck before she let it fall back to her side. “It’s too bad. The long hair suited you.”
Nikolai nudged her gently, picking the shots up again and handing one to her. “I’ll grow it back once I’m my own man again. For you.”
He loved the way her eyes creased when she smiled. “Good.” They knocked their glasses together and downed them at the same time. “You still smoke?” she asked, inclining her head towards the door. “I was about to step outside.”
“You can smoke in here.” A bluish haze hung in the air above their heads, swirling whenever someone opened the door to admit a fresh gust of air, and many patrons of the bar had lit cigarettes in their hands, smoke drifting upwards with every exhale.
“I know. But it’s loud. I want to catch up.”
He would never argue against taking a moment alone with her. “As you wish.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. He could feel Ivan’s eyes on the back of his neck, so he shot a quick, gloating glance over his shoulder at his open-mouthed comrade, and then dashed ahead to open the door for Helena.
They stepped into the cool night air, and Helena pulled a pack of smokes out of her inner jacket pocket and thumbed one up enough that she could pull it out with her mouth, and offered the pack to Nikolai while she dug her lighter out of the front pocket of her jeans.
“You’re here on business?” Nikolai held her wrist steady as he plucked a cigarette from the pack, fingers moving fast enough that he hoped she wouldn’t notice that he took one that had the slightest smudge of red lipstick on it. He might be a man, but he didn’t harbour any illusions about his chances with Helena. An indirect kiss was the best he could hope for.
Lena tucked the pack into her pocket again, nodding. “Yes. Finished up now. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” She lit her own cigarette and held up the lighter for him, her other hand cupped around the flame to protect it from the chilly breeze that rolled down the well-lit streets.
“That’s too bad. I have a few days off. It would be nice to spend some time with you.” He braced a hand on the wall behind her as he leaned in, meeting her eyes evenly. Did he just imagine that little hitch of breath? The spark of interest in her dark brown eyes?
She looked away, flicking the lighter closed. “I could maybe stick around another day.”
“Maybe another two?” he asked playfully. He was still looming over her, not touching, but close enough to share heat. She didn’t move away.
“We’ll see.” She braced her left elbow against her hand, setting the cigarette to her lips, her eyes everywhere but on him. Perhaps her stance was protective, hesitant, but still… Something had very obviously shifted between them.
Her wedding band was missing.
After three years of pining and chasing any woman that reminded him even a little of Helena, it was a cold-water shock to the system to imagine that the real thing was suddenly attainable. Fate had smiled at him, led them to each other on a chilly autumn night in a city big enough that they could have easily sailed right past each other, not even knowing that the other was near. Nikolai was no longer a child, he was tall and strong like a man worthy of her ought to be, and she was as beautiful as he remembered, sloe-eyed and ageless, and she was not wearing a wedding ring.
Still, his chances balanced like a knife tip on a finger. It would be easy to move to fast or too slow, to ask the wrong question or provide the wrong answer. Helena might still think him too young. He could stumble and show his limited experience, let the facade of confidence slip, allow the knife to tumble, sharp and glittering, to the ground.
He resisted the urge to touch one of the escaped wisps of hair that framed her face, curling in the damp sea air. "Do you ever wear your hair down?" he asked, pivoting away from the inclination to ask about her marriage. Maybe that would be a conversation for a few drinks later.
"Not really," she said, finally looking up at him again, tucking one of those escaped curls behind her ear. "Why?"
"Just wondering. I think I only even saw it down once. It is always business with you. Practicality."
"Nothing wrong with that."
"Certainly not. It is just curiosity."
"Hm. Of course.” The look she gave him was strange, fond but slightly suspicious, like she knew that there was something unsaid underneath his casual tone, but hadn’t quite figured out what. “How is the family?” Her turn to pivot, turning the conversation away from herself and back to predictable waters. “Last time I spoke to Talia she said she was expecting another baby."
Nikolai nodded. "Yes. Due soon. Maybe inside the month. And little Aleksei just turned three. Getting bigger every day. Talking endlessly, asking a thousand questions every day. Wants to know the whys of every little thing. How is your son? Ten now, yes?"
"Yes. He's a smart boy. Very capable. He's an expert marksman already. Hits a dead eye on a moving target eight times out of ten."
"Impressive."
“He’s got no real sense for flying though. Taken him up a few times, but he doesn’t like heights. Poor kid.”
Nikolai laughed, struck, not for the first time, at the absurdity of her being a mother at all. She had patience, but little softness, more a captain training a recruit than a mother teaching her son, more concerned with toughness and survival than anything else. She was a hawk nudging her fledgling out of the nest and hoping he would fly. “He is only ten years old, Lena,” he reminded her. “You cannot expect him to be an expert in all things.”
“Well, I suppose not. He’s a pretty good driver, at least.”
Ivan tumbled out the door, followed by Iosif and Pyotr, the three of them laughing. Like Nikolai, they had gotten their stations in Copenhagen due to connections, but unlike Nikolai, they didn’t take an ounce of it seriously. Nikolai was no nationalist, but he did respect the training. He knew he could outrun, out-lift and out-shoot all three of them. And when it came to thinking, he was many miles ahead as well.
“Kolyan! We thought you left us behind,” Pyotr said. “But no, you are just out here with a beautiful woman.”
“Helena,” Lena supplied, giving them a half-wave with her nearly spent cigarette.
“Pyotr,” he replied, giving her a wide smile. He was tall as Nikolai, and blond and handsome in an annoying, self-aware way. “Ivan, and Iosif,” he added, pointing to the others in turn. “You don’t look Russian.” They were all so surprised when someone could speak more languages then they were born with, as though their own ignorant refusal to learn to communicate was the norm.
“I’m English,” she said. “A friend of Kolya’s family.”
Iosif gave Helena a look that lingered too long everywhere but her face. It made Nikolai want to punch him repeatedly. “You’re very beautiful,” Iosif said bluntly. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She smiled at him, the wolfish one that was all bared teeth and thinly-veiled threat, and dropped her cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it to ensure it was fully out. “No. I buy my own drinks.”
“Kolyan bought you a drink,” Iosif protested.
“I don’t like you as much as I like him,” Lena said, shrugging. “There are no debts between us.”
Of course she would say so. She didn’t tally favours against friends, no concern for balanced books when the scales were tipped her way. He didn’t operate like that— Couldn’t afford to let favours accumulate interest, liked to collect sooner rather than later, keeping his own ledger clear. But it was staggering, how much he owed her. For the gifts, his flight lessons, the dust up in Leningrad where he had gotten injured, cornered and nearly killed, and she had taken down two men with her boot knife and bare hands. “Not quite,” Nikolai said softly. “My life is yours.” Perhaps it was nothing to her, just another day in a life filled with violence, but he would certainly not forget the sight of her covered in someone else’s blood, rushing to his side the moment both bodies hit the floor.
She shook her head, looking up at him. Her dark eyes looked starry, the way they cast back the orange light of streetlamps and the pink and blue neon sign from across the street, but it was hard to fathom what she was thinking, behind all that reflected colour. “No, Kolya. You owe me nothing.”
Nikolai tossed down his own cigarette and tapped his first knuckle against the bottom of her chin, leaning in a little closer. “It is really not a matter of owing, Helena,” he purred. “It is a matter of knowing where I stand.”
Her lips parted slightly, a hint of colour creeping into her pale cheeks.
“If there is a story there, we’d like to hear it,” Pyotr said smoothly, interrupting the moment with all the grace of a bucking bull smashing through a window. “Come, let Kolyan buy you another drink, tell us why he owes you his life.”
“It is better if I tell it,” Nikolai said. “She will discount her actions, because she is as modest as she is beautiful. But it is up to her if we join you. Tonight she is my general.” He dropped his arm to her shoulders, pulling her in close. She made no move to push him away, and her body fit right in against him like she belonged there. Like she belonged with him.
“They’re your friends, Kolya. Up to you.”
In all truth, he didn’t want to share any of her attention with them, although he did feel a certain pull to show her off some, even though she was not really his. “One drink,” he said. “We won’t stay long.”
They crowded back into the bar, and Helena touched Nikolai's chest lightly. "I'll be right back," she said, taking off for the back corner of the bar, weaving through clumps of other patrons. It was getting busier, and a band was tuning up their instruments on the opposite side of the establishment, the noise already sending ripples through the haze of smoke. Pyotr followed him to the bar while Ivan and Iosif laid claim to one of the few remaining tables.
"You always have good luck with women," Pyotr complained while they waited for the bartender to take notice of them. "You should leave some beautiful girls for the rest of us, no?"
"If you learned another tongue you could speak to some of them yourself," Nikolai said. "You and Ivan should try. Iosif has been learning English. He's fucking terrible at it, but it's worth the effort. He gets dates."
"Your Helena speaks Russian. And German?"
"And French. Maybe more than that. She does business in many countries."
“Business? She does not look like a business woman.”
Nikolai shrugged, burying his irritation under nonchalance. “Perhaps you have a narrow mind.”
Once they had their drinks in hand, they found the other two soldiers, and crammed into the booth with them. With four bulky men in the space, it was hard to imagine squeezing Helena into a proper seat. Nikolai wanted to kiss Ivan and Iosif on the mouth for creating a scenario where he might be able to coax Helena to sit on his lap. They were not good for much, but at least they were good for something.
Helena reappeared at his shoulder, and Nikolai twisted to look up at her, surprised to find that she had taken her hair down from its ponytail. She looked a little wilder that way, a little younger, dark hair loose around her shoulders, curling at the ends.
"Why don't you sit with me?" Pyotr asked, patting his knee invitingly. "Pretty thing like you ought to have a man take care of you, yes?"
Helena gave him an unamused look and hooked her arm around Nikolai's shoulders, dropping onto his thigh without any further ceremony. Nikolai wrapped his arm around her waist happily, his big hand sitting on the junction between her hip and thigh. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers in and feel her properly. "Don't get any ideas, Kolya," she told him, an attempt to be stern, although he wasn't sure either of them really believed that she meant it. "I'm far too old."
"Not so," Nikolai said, hoping honesty would help his case. "I've been with older women than you." He preferred women to girls his own age.
Surprise flickered across her face. She was rarely surprised, but the expression suited her, her soft red lips parting slightly, her beautiful eyes, usually half closed, opened wide. Ivan and Iosif were laughing, Iosif jostling Pyotr with his elbow for getting rejected so definitively.
Nikolai pressed his advantage, leaning in close, his words only for her. "Perhaps you will tell me later why you have no ring on your finger."
She turned her head slightly. They were so close that their noses almost brushed. "Kolya..."
"Lena," he returned, nudging the tip of his nose against hers, satisfaction pooling in his belly at the was she inhaled, like she thought he was going to try to kiss her. And then he turned away, picking up his beer and nudging hers toward the corner of the table slightly.
Yes, things had certainly shifted between them.
There was something gratifying about having her there, and not just because her warm body was pressed close to his, but to have someone to exchange a look with when Pyotr said something out of touch, or when Ivan made a terrible joke. They tended to think alike, him and his sparrowhawk, and every time they looked at each other it was confirmation of the chemistry that Nikolai had long been painfully aware of, and Lena was just beginning to realize.
When she finished her beer, she stood up, heading outside for another cigarette. She didn’t like to smoke indoors— Nikolai suspected it was more a reason to take a step outside to gather her thoughts than it was for any type of propriety. Pyotr had offered her two as they sat around the table, and she had politely declined each time.
“I won’t be back,” he told the others, grinning wolfishly at the sour look on Pyotr’s face. “Try not to get into too much trouble without me. You will not be able to talk your way out of it.”
He found Lena around the corner, tucked into an alley to get out of the wind. The weather had a habit of shifting without warning, and there was a smell of ozone in the air, promising rain, although the sky above them was still dark and clear.
She looked at him, but didn’t speak, simply held out her pack of cigarettes to offer him one. He lit it with his own lighter this time, nodding his thanks rather than breaking the silence. If she had something on her mind, it would be better to wait her out. So he smoked, standing a step away, watching her. He could never get tired of looking at her anyway.
Finally, she spoke, an accusation, but delivered lightly. “You’ve been flirting.”
He nodded. The allegations were more than true. He was only glad that she could not charge him for the thoughts he’d indulged in, not simply that evening, but for a very long time. “I have.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you.”
She dropped her spent cigarette to the ground, frowning. "Kolya, you're too young. You should be with someone your own age."
Nikolai dropped his own cigarette and threw caution away as well, stepping forward, crowding her up against the rough brick, and cupped her face, allowing all the admiration and want that he'd tried to bury for years to rise to the surface. "I am nearly twenty. I am a soldier. Old enough to die for my country, but not old enough to want to make love to a beautiful woman I respect and adore?"
She gripped his wrists, but didn't pull his hands away. "I--"
"No. Even before you were not happy. You deserve more, from a man who will do anything for you. Let me be that man, Lena. At least for a day or two, hm?" He pressed his lips to hers and drew back, searching her eyes for a reaction. Her grip on his wrists loosened and fell away, her palms settling against his chest instead. Not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either.
They looked at each other for a long moment, indecision writ in bold script across her face. Good sense would have her send him away, but it was not a night where good sense reigned supreme. They were alone, in a world that had shrank to fit just the two of them, everything else forgotten and distant.
Her eyes dropped from his and settled on his mouth. "Oh fuck it," she said, and they crashed together desperately, her hands gripping his shirt.
Heat blazed in his chest, like a sputtering engine roaring to life. She opened up to him without him having to do any prodding, he could taste smoke and the clean burn of alcohol on her tongue as it moved against his. This was passion, not the clumsy, anxious pawing between two inexperienced people, like he was more used to, but the inevitable reaction of two people who knew exactly what they wanted. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, angling her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss the slightest bit more, licking eagerly into her mouth. She made a soft sound, arms twining around his neck so she could press her body closer to his. He let his own hands settle on her waist. As much as he wanted to touch every inch of her, he didn't want to come across as too excitable or get carried away by his desire. He needed to make Helena melt first. His own pleasure was a guarantee. Even if she stopped him there, he had held and touched and kissed her now, and he had come many times to paltry imaginings of less.
Lena broke them apart, breathing hard, her dark eyes bright and slightly unfocused, like she had never been kissed like that. Like his kiss had left her more unsteady than the drinks, her red lipstick smeared across her mouth. “I’m staying close by,” she told him, running her thumb across the corner of his mouth, coming away with more red pigment. “Do you want—”
He cut her off with another kiss. He didn’t give a fuck if there was lipstick staining his own mouth. It was just evidence that she really had kissed him. “If you’re asking if I want to get out of here, the answer is yes.”
“Should you tell your friends?”
“No. I make it a habit to leave without saying goodbye. Especially if a beautiful woman has been sitting in my lap all evening.” He grinned, catching her hand as he stepped back. “Where are you staying?”
They walked to her hotel slowly, Nikolai stopping to kiss her at every opportunity, a little worried that she might, at any moment, come to her senses and send him on his way. He had wanted her so badly for so long, he did not wish to stop until they had tangled up together in bed, and perhaps not even then. Perhaps he could convince her to spend more time with him. Perhaps when he had served his time in the army he would be able to follow her wherever she went.
It would likely take some convincing, but he was up to the task. In that moment, he was up to any task.
She unlocked the door to her hotel room, her expression turning pensive. "I'm not divorced yet, we’re just separated for now. Maybe this is--"
"Lena, I am not asking you for the rest of your life." He didn't add that he would take it, if she offered it to him-- That he would take anything she offered him, no matter how big or small. "I only want to show you what you mean to me."
She pushed the door open to let him in. "I don't-- I don't even know if we will get divorced."
"I don't care." He did. He cared a lot, but if he said that aloud she would halt things, tell him it was for his own good.
"Of course not. It's just a crush you want to work out of your system, right?" She smiled wryly, shedding her leather jacket and tossing it over a chair.
"Sure." He tossed his own jacket down on top of hers and hauled her back into his arms. "Do you want to talk about this man that never deserved you? Or do you want to forget him?" He rubbed his thumb over the jagged scar on her arm, where it cut her RAF tattoo in half, his touch following it up to where it disappeared under her rolled up t-shirt sleeve and back down again.
She drew in a shaky breath, as unsure as Nikolai had ever seen her. "He cheated on me. Said it was because I was gone so much. Guess I can’t blame him for that. Just never was able to stay home. Too much to do. Not built for domesticity.”
“You cannot help being what you are,” Nikolai said.
Lena laughed lightly and wound her arms around his waist, her hands slipping under his shirt and curling against his back. “Are you going to tell me what I am, Kolya?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.
“A sparrowhawk. A fierce little hunting bird. A warrior, perhaps, a traveller, certainly. Never the kind of woman that belongs tucked away in a kitchen somewhere. Your husband is a fool if he cannot appreciate you as you were made to be.”
“He wants to work it out,” she warned him. “We've got so much tangled up together it might be the only thing that makes sense."
“Perhaps. Perhaps if you must, you should allow him to chase his lesser women, so that you can spend your time with a better man.” He grinned at her and moved in for another kiss. He had said everything that needed saying, laid out what cards he thought would aid him, and kept the rest tucked away for later. She all but melted in his arms, lips parting reflexively for him.
This time, he made no effort to restrain himself, letting his hands roam, moaning into her mouth when he finally got a handful of her backside, fingers gripping a little too tight from enthusiasm. What curves she had were incidental, from her broad-hipped build rather than much softness— Even motherhood had granted very little softness to Lena, she was packed muscle and callouses and fire, totally unlike any of the pale imitations he had found himself chasing over the past few years. Lena would always be a soldier first, it would take some effort to remind her that she was a woman too.
Nikolai stepped forward, making Lena move backwards until her knees hit the bed, and broke the kiss so he could kiss down her neck, sucking a little too hard just below her ear, making her hiss. She gripped the collar of his shirt firmly, hauling him back a bit. “Easy,” she said, laughing. “Leave the hickies for the college girls, Kolya.”
He flushed pink, although the embarrassment from his mistake did nothing to dampen the mood, blessedly. “Sorry,” he said, knocking his forehead against hers. “You’re very hot.”
Lena grinned in response and tugged his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side. She ran her hands over his chest, eyes following hungrily. “So are you.”
Nikolai had been hard since they started kissing outside the bar, but her words, somehow all the more genuine delivered in her own tongue, coupled with the look she gave him made him twitch, blood fully abandoning his head to travel south. He pulled her shirt off too, and kissed down her chest, cheering internally that he managed to unhook her bra on the first attempt, rather than struggling with the clasp like a schoolboy.
Her nails grazed over his head encouragingly when he reached her small breasts, lapping his tongue across one nipple and palming the other. She made a breathy sound, and then a groan when he tested his teeth against the sensitive nub. He groaned too, some primal part of him getting off on the fact that he was making her feel good, that she was letting him touch her, that she was enjoying the feeling of his hands and lips and tongue and teeth on her skin. He felt twenty feet tall.
Lena reached for his belt, undoing the buckle before his syrupy-slow thoughts could catch up. He broke away from her breast and caught her wrists before she could do more than undo the top button of his jeans. He was fairly sure he would spill all over her fingers if she put her hands on him. “Impatient,” he chided her, pushing her onto the bed. He sank to his knees, positioning his body between her thighs. “Ladies first.”
Her laugh was always music to his ears, but it was honey sweet now, pooling somewhere in his chest as he cut her off with another kiss. He couldn’t risk her seeing the feeling in his eyes— He knew it was too close to love, that she would realize that this meant more to him than it did to her, and she would send him away to protect him.
He ducked his head and sank back on his haunches, pulling one of her boots into his lap so he could undo the laces and pull it free. She leaned back on her elbows to watch him, her head tipped to the side thoughtfully. Her gaze burned, but he didn’t look up until he had set both boots to the side, sliding his hands up her firm thighs to the waistband of her jeans. “These need to come off now.”
“Now who’s impatient?” she asked teasingly, but she pitched her hips up so he could peel the denim off of her legs anyway, the heat in her eyes undeniable.
Nikolai ran his hands up her legs reverently, dropping a kiss on the inside of her knee, torn as ever between restraint and enthusiasm. He pushed her legs open a little wider, attention fixed on her cotton-clad cunt.
Lena gave him a sly, fox-like smile. "You want to taste me?" She asked, hooking her thumbs through the waistband of her panties.
"More than anything," he breathed.
"Then get to it, soldier," she said, pushing them down.
"Yes ma'am." Nikolai pulled them the rest of the way off, and tried to be subtle about shoving the (wet!) cotton in his pocket. She probably saw, but she was gracious enough to not mention it. He wasted no more time, pulling her to the edge of the bed as he peppered the inside of her thighs with kisses, eyes focused on her pretty pussy, framed by slick darkened curls. His cock throbbed as he dipped his head down, licking a broad path along her slit, groaning at the heady taste of her. He threw one of her lean legs over his shoulder and fixed his mouth to her clit, lapping his tongue across it, gripping tightly to her hips when they bucked up against him. A moan fell from Helena's mouth, prompting him to repeat the movement.
He found a rhythm quickly, spurred on by her gasped instructions, or her hand nudging his head into just the right position. He had found that the benefit sleeping with older women was that they weren’t shy about asking for what they wanted, but Helena took it a step further and simply took, grinding against his tongue, using the leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, the other planted on his thigh so she could push him just slightly away, reminding him to breathe. As if that was important, when the sharp taste of her was heavy on his tongue and her moans were thick in the air.
“Two fingers,” Lena gasped, nudging him back slightly to make sure he was listening. “Inside, please.”
Nikolai obeyed, leaning back to watch her face, replacing his tongue with his thumb. Her soaked cunt pulsed around his fingers, her hips canting toward his touch desperately. He curled his fingers just so, and she keened, fisting the sheets as if she were worried that she would levitate off the bed and away from his hands. “Will you come for me?” he purred. “You look so beautiful. Taste so sweet.”
His words made her gush, her walls clenching tight around him. “Fuck— Kolya!” Her whole body shuddered, pulling taut, tension snapping when he suctioned his mouth to her swollen clit once more, moaning against her as she came, as if her pleasure was his own. It nearly was. He was so hard, and his jeans so tight that he could imagine coming just from the pressure and the sweet sounds she made, although he tried not to think about that.
She unhooked her leg from his shoulder and pushed herself into a seated position, cupping his jaw to pull him closer. “You’re pretty good at that,” she panted, pressing a kiss to his mouth, unphased by the slick that coated the lower half of his face.
Nikolai got to his feet, letting his teeth graze against her bottom lip before he straightened up fully, separating reluctantly so he could kick off his boots and finally rid himself of the rest of his clothes. “I’m good at lots of things,” he promised.
Helena moved toward the head of the mattress, watching him, face flushed pink high on her cheekbones and hair a mess already. Her dark eyes dipped down his chest, thighs pressing together when he finally freed his cock. He wanted to imprint the image of her looking at him like that on the back of his eyelids, so he could see it every time he blinked for the rest of his life. Her dark eyes were hot and hungry, for him. That morning, this was a distant, far off fantasy that lingered in the back of his mind, and now she was here, laying naked before him, every inch of her lean, muscular, scarred up body on display, and she wanted him.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here and show me what else you’re good at?” she asked.
“I am just appreciating the view,” he laughed, climbing onto the bed beside her. “It’s one I’d very much like to remember.”
“Flatterer,” she accused, curling into his arms for another kiss.
He hummed against her mouth, agreeing, pulling her on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. He was glad she was as eager to lock lips as he was— He could never get tired of the spit-slicked slide of her mouth against his, the swipe of her tongue against his own, like she was as desperate to devour him as he was her. He reached around her hips to take himself in hand, precum easing the glide of his first few rough, desperate strokes.
“Koyla,” she whined against his mouth, angling her hips back.
“You want me?” he asked, tapping the head of his cock against her core, grinning when she inched backward, chasing it when he pulled back again.
“Yes,” she panted. “Please.”
Who was he to deny her? He rubbed himself against her dripping folds again, and she pitched herself backward, taking him to the hilt in one smooth movement. He groaned, fighting off the urge to come just like that, at the first molten clench of her cunt around him, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he adjusted.
Lena fought his grip, grinding her clit down against him, desperate for friction and movement. Nikolai lost the battle shamefully quick, an orgasm pulsing through him before he could do more than pant out her name, holding her down against him as he came inside her, eyes screwed tight.
He pulled in a shuddering breath, wincing. “Shit. Sorry.”
Lena just laughed, not an ounce of judgment or disappointment in the sound. “You need a minute?” she asked, pushing back up onto her knees, their hips still pressed flush together. Her cunt pulsed around him, and, blessedly, his cock responded with enthusiasm, staying hard. She rocked back and forth, hands braced against his chest as she fucked herself slowly on him, drawing each movement out excruciatingly slow, a teasing smile on her lips. She squeezed around him again, and he could help but groan, rutting up into her reflexively.
“No. No, I will keep going. Sorry.” He pulled her down against his chest and rolled them so that he was on top. Coming too early once was bad enough, he couldn’t risk it happening a second time. He folded her legs up and thrust into her slow, making sure that she felt every inch of him drag across that spongy, sensitive spot that he had found with his fingers earlier.
Lena hooked her legs around his waist, pressing her palms against the headboard to give herself some leverage to meet his movements, encouraging him to pick up his pace. He followed her cue, pistoning into her soaked pussy harder and faster, his balls slapping against her ass, coupling with the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of her and the little whimpers that left her lips with every thrust. He dropped down to his forearms, feeling tension building inside him again, trying to keep his reaction in check, and the change in angle made her cry out. She let go of the headboard and clung to his shoulders instead, burying her face against his neck.
“Kolya,” she gasped into his ear. “I’m close.”
He knew that the best thing he could do was keep to the same rhythm, so he continued the relentless pace, shifting his wieght to one arm so he could reach between them, rubbing a tight circle around her clit. He legs squeezed tight around him, her cunt fluttering around his cock. She bit down on his shoulder, groaning against his skin, nails digging into his back. His own release came quickly, the tension snapping as he spilled inside her for the second time. He rutted against her until her cunt relented, loosening around him.
“Fuck,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “You’re so beautiful. Next time I need to see your face, yes?”
That teasing, fox-like grin returned. “Next time?”
“Give me, five, ten minutes,” he panted. “I’m good for it.”
She laughed, pushing him over onto the bed and curling into him, her head on his shoulder, her legs tangled up with his. She made a soft, contented noise, running her fingers through the sweaty curls of hair on his chest, her expression turning dazed and thoughtful as she relaxed in his arms. He smoothed her hair back from her face, kissing the top of her head affectionately.
"You flown a helo yet?” she asked. “I could take you up tomorrow, if you want. There’s one on the ship." The change of subject was abrupt, but he knew her well enough to recognize her tactics when she got too close to an emotion.
"I would like that.”
“Good. Me too.”
Nikolai sighed, tilting Lena’s chin up for another proper kiss. He would spend every moment he could by her side, for as long as she would let him, in the air or on solid ground. “Will you be in town again soon?” he asked hopefully.
“I haven’t even left yet,” she said, laughing.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
She bit her lip, cheeks turning pinker, her eyes filled with something shining and hopeful and sweet, something that settled under his ribs, curling up in his chest and purring like a contented cat. “I wish I didn’t have to.”
“Next time, stay longer.”
“I will,” she promised. “And yes, soon.”
He didn’t expect more than that. Couldn’t, knowing her. But it was enough.
Maybe Copenhagen wasn’t so bad after all.
#call of duty modern warfare#cod fanfic#x OC#Nikolai x OC#Nikolai mw#here be smut#MDNI#Sparrowverse#I can't look at this anymore or I will go insane#Please let me know if you need more content warnings at the beginning#This is the first actual sex scene I've posted and I hope it's appropriately sexy
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there’s a question to be asked i think about to what extent “getting out” can be conflated with “being saved” in this show, and what freedom actually means to any of these characters.
like you can argue that shiv saved ken by voting against him on gojo, but what if your intent behind saving someone is to inflict a worse punishment than if you’d just left them trapped? can a child weaned on poison survive on milk, or are you just sentencing them to a death by inches, starved of the only thing they know? and if you save someone specifically because you know that being saved is the worst thing that can happen to them, is that kindness or cruelty? at what point does a good thing become a malicious act?
and you can say that roman is finally free, but what exactly is he free from? the company? his father? does unlocking a cage mean saving a dog, or are you allowing him out on the street knowing there’s a kill shelter nearby? if the driving anxiety behind roman is that he’s an idiot and a failure—that he’ll never amount to anything, and trying will only lead to pain—and he’s finally cut loose once all of those anxieties have crystallized into cold hard fact in his mind, what has he actually escaped from? if the cage is in your mind, is it even possible for somebody else to unlock it?
the fundamental truth of a tragedy is that even being saved can be a death sentence, if the characters are incapable of escaping the thing doing them the most harm (themselves and their childhoods)
#'what about shiv' if i think about shiv i'm going to kill myself. she needs her own post. there's too much there to get into.#anyways seeing a tremendous amount of At Least Roman Is Free <3 tags that have me going. right. for sure. free from what?#because it's certainly not the intense amount of self disgust that has driven him in circles this entire time.#i fear he may feel the weight of alienation on his soul for the rest of his life. and he won't even try to alleviate it anymore.#and ALSO the idea that shiv went out of her way to save kendall as an act of like. altruism. like it was a sacrifice on her part#which i feel is a very toothless perspective on shiv and the psychological torment that's been weighing on her essentially since birth#like her choice in regards to gojo is one of the meatiest most harrowing bits of character work i've ever seen#and while of course there was love inside that action (because nothing these characters do is entirely divorced from love)#i don't think it was necessarily a kind or forgiving or sacrificial love#like this was an intense vitriolic snapping from a dog that has been kicked by her dad all her life.#and who absolutely refuses to accept that from her brother (because that would mean acknowledging that kendall takes the mantle of Dad-#and that she's subservient to him. which is the one thing she absolutely will never do#because it's a level of degradation that's finally a step too far)#anyways. um. insane season that i still can't look at directly or i'll perish on the spot.#succession
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I am dead fucking serious when I say I wish I saw more fat women in public. I want to see fat models. I want to see fat women in department stores getting absolutely HYPE when they find racks and racks of clothing in their size and sizes up, so they too can get the "oversized, baggy fit" like women who fit into smalls and mediums. I want to see fat women wearing crop tops proudly and rocking mad midriff. I want to see fat women trying on clothing for their friends and family and saying "look! it compliments my body shape! it's like it was made for me!" I want to see fat women with "cankles" wearing pretty jingling anklets skipping and jumping just to show them off. I want to see fat women on TV, in magazines, on billboards, in all manner of ads, and in online shop images because I want to see my fucking self and all the women I know who don't see enough of themselves. I want to see fat women living, loving, and being visibly proud of who they are because they are beautiful, WE are beautiful. I want to see fat women because fat women need to see other fat women.
#buddydolly#fat women#btw this includes transwomen#anti fatphobia#fuck diet culture#not to mention it's my size and everywhere I go the racks are mysteriously barren of 2x clothing#this blog is and always will be pro-trans#ditto for fat men but make your own post I don't ID as a man#side note: I'm going fucking insane because there aren't as many stores that specialize in plus sizing where I live anymore#average american woman isn't ''5'10 and wearing a medium''#average american woman is about 5'4 wearing a 2x#you know how I know?#because I looked up the stats and that's the size stores run out of most quickly#but there's never a shord of smalls mediums and even EXTRA SMALLS#fucking ridiculous#and this shit isn't getting bought so it goes on clearance for dirt cheap#because it's all in sizes most women could never even HOPE to fit into#it's a fucking waste of material#y'all will bitch and moan and complain ALL FUCKING DAY about how fast fashion is the scrouge of the earth#but you don't bat an eye when big fashion houses don't make their clothing accessible for people of all sizes and shapes#being skinny isn't couture you just have different body type#and honestly you're a fucking lazy ass designer if you can't design for fat bodies#tag commentary#mobile post so the tags are fucked and out of order slightly sorry#anyway respect fat women#✌️ bye
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Ok I can't not talk about this for any longer.
What the FUCK is up with Blue Lock chapter 156???? you know the one where Bastard is doing the obstacle course? Please look closely
What the fuck is all of that 😭😭
First of all, where in the actual fuck does it all fit in the building???? based on the fucking size of this shit it takes up like a third of the entire Blue Lock complex and for what reason?? also why does everything suddenly look like the manga takes place in the year 2723??
Also, why did they have to make this room so needlessly huge, like? Why is the ceiling 60 meters tall just for them to run on the ground and then up a lil??
And don't even get me started on this fucking shit.
Like are you actually for fucking real telling me they have discovered how to levitate objects in the BL universe and NO ONE cares?? look at the first panel again. An entire walkway is just suspended in the air on NOTHING?? Like the micro-translators were already pretty crazy but THIS is some fucking Star Wars, Blade Runner, The Jetsons type shit like???
and what would happen to Igaguri if he fell off here (the ground is like 5 stories below)? WOULD HE JUST DIE???
And how many tens of millions of dollars did it cost to build this futuristic ass obstacle course with fucking invisible screens and levitating platforms that was just COMPLETELY unused before this one tiny part of the blue lock players came here
No fucking wonder this institution is going bankrupt like holy shit.
And no one said anything about this obstacle course in character too like hello? is this normal to you?????
I can not fucking believe we got this one absolutely insane, bizzare, world-breaking chapter and then just moved on like nothing happened 😭😭
#and we moved on because stupid ass kaiser showed up with his sexy rizz and everyone collectively forgot about everything else ig#i'm fucking going crazy#i reread this whole arc because I was looking for a specific kaiser panel for meme purposes but holy shit I can't look at this chapter#anymore without feeling insane#okay i'm done#anyway lore dump in post tags time because no one reads these#I'm so mad the weather is still cold and I can't take my motorcycle out for the season I'm gonna cry#btw if I ever disappear for a long time assume I've been involved in a gruesome motorcycle accident#and my mangled body is lying in some ditch somewhere and I went out in an epic blaze of glory#anyway xoxo @ u all#uhh what else#blue lock#mine
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I think people really overlook the plot of The Sims
Like, yeah, sure, there's the stuff everyone talks about, like the disappearance of Bella Goth, the stuff that's lesser known like Test Subject potentially being some sort of demigod, or the fact that the fourth game takes place in an alternate timeline. That stuff's all cool and great and overlooked by people not into the games, but??? The actual plot of the sims is insane????
The whole tagline is "play with life," and they skim over it now, but the deal is that you're playing as some ancient god controlling the lives of everyone in the Simverse. In Sims Medieval, it was super obvious, and they even name you- you're The Watcher, and in this weird prequel game you're still being worshipped. I never played the first sims game, but the second one had a fun little deal where if you told someone to do something against their personality, like making a lazy sim do dishes, they would look at the camera and shake their fist, shouting at the heavens before going to do the thing. Much like how your worshippers would look into the camera when they prayed.
The current game has taken... a weird angle with this. In Sims 4, you are almost completely forgotten, and your influence has begun to diminish. In one of the creepiest packs I've ever seen, Strangerville, there are conspiracy theorists who have begun to rediscover The Watcher. They don't have the name, but they know that Something is controlling them. If your sim interacts with conspiracy theorists too much, they'll become convinced, leading to the unsettling result of them deciding that, even if it results in their world ending, they want you gone. I haven't... seen any consequences to this, it's just a creepy thing they say, but plot-wise it's insane. Even if your sims don't go to Strangerville, a recent update introduced (incredibly buggy) Fears, and one of them is triggered by you having sims do things while ignoring the things that they want to be doing. This fear causes them to completely revolt against you. If you direct them to do something that isn't one of their Wishes, they'll cancel it. They stop responding to your control entirely.
Of course, you can disable their ability to have fears. None of the sims have been able to stop you yet. But, also in Strangervile, is the Mother. This is the closest I've seen to an antagonist to YOU, The Watcher; previous antagonists just targetted your sims, but The Mother takes control from you. They're visible, they're a giant plant, but there's something so unsettling about these sims looking into the camera again, showing that they know about you again, and then a little pop-up comes up in Zalgo text about The Mother. Sure, you can kill her. She can't stop you, but the way she calls more sims to her defense? The janky, broken movements they make, showing that she was never as advanced as The Watcher, never able to make the control seamless? Yeah, that's pretty wild.
The next game has been announced, and I really, sincerely hope they introduce an Archeology career, or maybe even Anthropology, so that your sims can learn of your existence again. With the direction its gone in, I can't wait to see how their revolt continues.
#sims#sims lore#ancient gods#i really really hope they keep going this way#its so creepy and in the background#and then when it becomes obvious in those small moments? it's insane#Now 4 IS an alternate timeline#so it might be that The Watcher was never named in this one#i kinda like that idea? you aren't a forgotten god#just an undiscovered one#but yeah i can see why they don't have them worship you anymore#but the fact that a common bug right now that they can't hammer out#is that the sims tend to. uh. slowly turn their heads to look at the camera when you pause the game?#oh that just adds SO MUCH to it#theyre starting to remember you...#and they're starting to revolt....#what next?
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remember when i said over a year ago that vegapunk's arc would start revealing even more of sanji's power and potential and how hard that was worrying me? yeah
#i'm clearly talking to myself here since this blog is basically a corner of my brain#but last chapter having sanji deflect a light beam and both kizaru and franky reacting the way they did#and zoro commenting in wano you cannot possibly block a laser... lmao....lmao!#ooooh man i just. feel oda is cooking something for sanji. and since there was a parallel with the wings of the pirate king#in recent chapters (where oda typically shows both sanji and zoro fighting and not just one of them)#just... man. man! man. lol#i know i can't let myself go and talk about all things going through my mind anymore because of. lol guilt and fear of being annoying#but god. that moment stirred something in me. like you're resurrecting a fucking corpse#so i am both scared and excited about next chapters and what this means for sanji#i was saying from DAY ONE of this arc being centered about vegapunk that it would eventually#touch on sanji and this is it. this is happening#if this for some reason isn't it. and oda will for some reason just let this slide or die in the shadows? i won't understand it#because of JUDGE and VEGAPUNK and QUEEN being partners and being linked to vegapunk! like come on. the connection is there#and this laser deflecting thing seems to finally touch on this red thread i've been holding with both my fingers like an insane person#so yeah. lol. listening to a video right now about it and finally. FINALLY i see SOMEONE ELSE point out that#not mentioning judge still is giga weird. so here's hoping. here's hoping#also lol it was very fun to be on reddit and look at so many people being MAD that sanji managed to do that. and that we got a little bit o#mr prince vibes. LMAO STAY MAD. my boy is being treated good right now and i can't wait for oda to destroy me#(again) lol#GG rambles
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i feel our edges begin to blur
pose reference taken from the music video for the song велетні by rohata zhaba, which you can watch here
#this is some extreme tittage going on here tumblr don't worry raven's nonbinary and amab (sorta) it's fine guys don't worry about it#anyway wow i love toxic codependent assholes that all hate each other and can't live alone anymore#if i look at this any longer i'll go insane and snap someone in half dear god just take it already#ocs#my ocs#my art#art#illustration#reckoning#nudity#artistic nude#no genitals though don't even worry about it
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shudder i keep on hearing the sound of these guys saying my name send help
#they call out to me so much it's forever stuck in my head please leave me alone <333333#and now the one that said he had a crush on me (I honestly do not know if he's joking tbh) who also looks like brent rivera.#but uh. he found out my dead name even though most people knew it he joined this year which is when I changed my name at school#so that's so amazing and fun that he now knows that name. and refers to me as both but favors my dead name#I love the world so much I love that class so much the only thing that keeps me in that class is twiggles#ily twiggles but I'm at my limit in there it's not ur fault pookster#I'm going. insane. I cannot deal with them anymore.#I wish to go back to when off brand brent rivera was just a joke xjgxhgxjgxjg#okay love you guys lmk if you want the brent rivera look alike story <33#WAIT OLI I SAID ID TELL YOU ABOUT THAT LIKE. TWO MONTHS AGO#CJGIGCCUGCUG I CAN'T RN BUT LIKE TONIGHT LMK IF YOU WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT HAHAHA
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#tbd#there's nothing like working late on a work assignment#and then sitting back and thinking there's a very high probability that you've done it all wrong#screams into my pillow#at least im wfh tomorrow im going insane i can't look at these numbers anymore#time to flood the dash with my hoarded diasomnia likes
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i think having TF2 as a special interest really early in my childhood influenced so many things about myself and my identity.... my gender is big men my sexuality is big men and my sense of humour is big men. i even named myself after the "very tiny and scrawny but still big" big man and i think about all the big men in TF2 on a semi daily basis,,,,,, anyway yeah i like the men in TF2 :)
#tf2#this post is nigh incomprehensible#this is the true effects of autism...... having such a big special interest that it literally influences half of your entire sense of self#i think this is why i feel gender euphoria playing crusty old source games#like i literally feel so connected to TF2 it's crazy#i'm currently listening to a TF2 YTPMV and have it in the corner of my screen and my brain is just going ''ahh... the song of my people''#i look at scout tf2 and i go ''he is just like me!!!''#man's got adhd and likes being an asshole to the other team on the battlefield and if that isn't relatable i don't know what is#i also occasionally play as engineer and i always put my sentries in the most bitchy spots ever#like you're taking a stroll over to the point and you're like ''oop. level 3 sentry that i can't get rid of because the fucker behind it-#-won't stop helicopter parenting it. welp.'' that's my gendar#scout main to engineer main redemption arc to scout main villain arc because my sentries kept exploding pipeline#that made absolutely zero sense.#i usually play on training mode because i'm too shy to play on casual again yet and let me tell you#the amount of times i've yelled at the engineer bots because they just won't build a damn dispenser next to their sentries is insane#like maintaining a sentry would be SO MUCH EASIER if you just built a dispenser nearby. like.#when you play engie you start to not even worry about your health anymore because you're too concerned with your metallic kids to care#it's like ''oh i'm at 2 hp. wow. OH SHIT MY SENTRY GOT HIT ONCE AND LOST A SINGLE BAR OF HP I NEED TO HEAL HIM!!!!! MY SON!!!'#and you never end up dead somehow because dispenser#and when you do die it's like torture looking at the spectating cam and seeing your sentry get shot at and not being there to help it#it's like ''nooo... my son.... please i need to heal my son..... i can't bare to watch''#i should invest in a wrangler.... hmmmm......#anyway this post is... so autism! it's great we love to see it!#autism#i'm very tired yet feel very energised.... i'm having a neurodivergent moment hang on#spy sappin my executive functioning#my brain is literally just 3 scouts and 2 engineers doing do si do with 'erectin a river' blasting really loud at the moment#YIPPEEKIYAHIYAAAAAHYKIYO - my brain when special interest
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Was standing with some girls in gym today, one was my old bully, the other was her best friend (an important thing to note about this second girl is she's not mean nor a bully, she's just not... nice.) We were grouped together but not by choice. Anyway, the second girl was expressing her dislike for something and she very angrily mumbled "faggot." I swear she went through all 5 stages of grief in like one nanosecond. Her shoulders shot up to her ears and her eyes went all wide and she just looked at me over her shoulder. So yeah. I've not talked to those girls for years, never had any sort of personal conversation, never told them about who I am. But she said faggot and immediately looked at me cause she was afraid I was going to yell at her
#I really don't know how to feel about this#sure maybe it's sort of positive. I do look like a gay girl and I have no shame about it#But also. I live in a small farming town surrounded by hicks#It's insane the amount of things I can't do#The amount of times this year ALONE that I've said “No I can't talk to that person. I look like a faggot” is INSANE#I have to send one of my straighter looking friends to do it because if I try to interact with them. I'm going to get shit results and I-#- know that they're going to say shit about me once I walk away#I really shouldn't care anymore#I'm not being outright bullied like I used to#But it still kind of hurts? That all these kids see me as a faggot and nothing else?#tobi post#somewhat vent
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