#I’m just supposed to go the rest of my life with my brain and vagina on two different pages??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rax-writes · 3 years

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More 》 Part Two

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings: Sexual intercourse, choking, hair pulling, oral sex (f!receiving) [reader is a female-identifying individual with a vagina] Notes: Part two of More 》 I cannot thank you guys enough for how well More did, and I hope that you enjoy this addition to it! 》 I honestly didn’t edit this all that extensively, so if there are any errors, please let me know. ♥

At the break of dawn the next morning, you found yourself on a loading dock for shipment containers with Sharon, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo – pretending all the while that nothing had happened between you and the latter individual. You wore a sweater with a high neckline, per Zemo’s suggestion, and interacted with him exactly the same way that you had before. He did a good job at selling the lie as well, although he seemed incapable of keeping his eyes to himself, frequently staring at you for far longer than he should have, that dark, hungry look in his eyes returning if his gaze lingered for too long.

“All right, he’s in there,” Sharon announced, stopping in the middle of the massive metal boxes. “Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel, but hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

You accepted one of the earpieces she offered, getting it into place as she walked off. When the four of you entered the container, you found that it was empty, and appeared to have been that way for quite some time.

“Hey, Sharon, you sure this is the right one?” Sam inquired incredulously. “It’s completely empty.”

“Positive. It has to be.”

You entered the container, the other three right behind you, and closed your eyes as they looked around.

“He’s here. I can hear his thoughts,” you announced, then began to pick the doctor’s brain further. “Push against the back wall. There’s a secret passageway.”

Zemo did as you bade him, and sure enough, the wall moved backwards a bit, to allow him to open the hidden door. He shot you a curt nod of approval, then stepped back to allow Sam to enter first, and the rest of you followed suit.

Music filled the air, a swanky song you didn’t recognize, as you stalked through the laboratory, your gun aimed dead ahead and eyes peeled.

“Follow me,” you whispered, taking the lead as you easily navigated to the physical source of Dr. Nagel’s thoughts. When you saw him, his back was to you, slouched over whatever he was working on as he hummed along to the tune. Sam silently walked over and removed the needle from the record that played the music, and Nagel turned around slowly, fear written all over his face.

“Dr. Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab,” Nagel commanded, as if he was in any position to give orders. He began to walk toward the exit, but you stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand flat against his bony chest.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. Not until you tell us what we need to know,” you informed him without speaking, your voice infiltrating his mind. Nagel let out a frightened gasp as he looked behind him, apparently thinking that may be the source of the voice, before his eyes landed on you.

“You,” he whispered, his voice a mix of confusion, fear, and awe as you met his gaze with harsh eyes. “You – you spoke to me, in my head. How did you do that?”

“She can read your mind, and she can also control it. So, I’d advise you to answer our questions, before she forces you to,” Sam threatened, then watched as Nagel took note of Bucky across the room. “And you know who he is, right?” He then grabbed Nagel by the arm and turned him to face Zemo. “This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right?” He dragged Nagel to the nearest wall, shoving him against it as his back collided with the metal grate. “You seem like a pretty smart guy, so you better become conversational real quick.”

“How ‘bout a counter proposal? Make me a better offer, and I’ll talk,” Nagel proposed.

“Guys, we have company,” Sharon’s voice stated through the earpiece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go!”

Bucky grabbed Nagel by his shirt and dragged him over to a chair, forcing him down roughly before pointing his gun at Nagel’s head, finger on the trigger. He still didn’t look terribly interested in talking, so you lowered your weapon and narrowed your eyes at him, and used your abilities to insight sheer, unadulterated fear in his mind. His eyes widened and he visibly paled as his mind wreaked havoc on itself, instilling a very pure, very powerful terror within him.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk! Just stop it!”

You ended the onslaught of panic, and raised your gun once again, as your three companions eyed you with curiosity, unsure of what exactly you’d just done to him. But there would be time for an explanation later.

Nagel explained how he formulated the super soldier serum, and you all listened intently to his little tale. That was when you heard it. Like the crack of a twig in an otherwise silent forest, yet making no audible sound at all, you heard it.

“I must kill him.”

You looked over at Zemo as nonchalantly as possible, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized you’d picked up on his decision. The two of you shared tense eye contact for several beats, and you knew that you must make a choice. Allow Zemo to end this man’s life, and end the possibility of additional serums being created, or warn Sam and Bucky of his intentions?

“You know the damage unchecked Super Soldiers can cause. He is dangerous; he must be stopped.”

Zemo spoke directly to you in his mind, and you took the opportunity to dig deeper, searching for any sign that he was going to betray you, Sam, and Bucky. When you found none, you sighed quietly as you made your choice, and returned your attention to Nagel. Out of your peripheral, you saw Zemo begin perusing the room, feeling underneath tables in the lab in search of a secluded weapon.

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky inquired, and when Nagel hesitated, he pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple, prompting an answer of no. “Now what?”

Sharon ran into the room then, announcing, “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo took her distraction as an opportunity to draw his gun and shoot Nagel in the chest, straight through his heart. Sam tackled Zemo, and Sharon took the gun from his hand, whispering, “What did you do?”

The very next moment, the entire place exploded, erupting into flames as you, Bucky, Sam, and Sharon hit the deck, although Zemo was nowhere to be found when you groaned in pain and looked around the room from your position on the floor. Bucky pulled you to your feet, then Sharon, then Sam, as the four of you exited the container before it could explode from all the chemicals and fire in Nagel’s lab. You didn’t quite make it, as a gas-fueled explosion went off just as you exited the container, but you were far enough away from it that it merely blew your hair forward. Once outside, the adrenaline wore off just enough that you felt a blinding pain in your torso, and looked down to see blood quickly soaking through your sweater.

“Bucky,” you called out, and he turned quickly, a frown forming on his face when he saw your injury. You lifted your shirt to reveal a thin, jagged, three-inch long sliver of metal embedded in the center of your abdomen. Sam turned to bark orders at the two of you, but his face fell as he saw the blood.

Sharon made quick work of removing the metal, which was thankfully only about an inch or less in width, so it wasn’t at all deadly. Truthfully, it wasn't that bad of an injury, but god was it bleeding like hell. Bucky yanked off his jacket and handed it to you, instructing you to apply pressure to the wound and stick close to him. Your three companions shot at the bounty hunters that were approaching, and you did your best to fire a few shots yourself, your other hand pressing the jacket firmly against your injury. Sam shot you a disapproving look and told you to focus on yourself, but you ignored him.

While Sam and Bucky began bickering about who should have followed whose orders, there was yet another deafening explosion nearby. You looked in that direction to see Zemo with some sort of mask on, jumping down from atop some storage containers, before leaping over some metal piping and dodging past a man to evade his bullets, then grabbing him by the collar to use him as a human shield. He fired multiple rounds at the nearby bounty hunters, before releasing his grip on the first man and kicking him away, then shot him too. He looked at you through the flames, and you didn’t have to read his mind to know how exhilarated he felt, being truly back in action after spending years in a cell.

If asked, you’d chalk it up to the blood loss, but… goddamn, he looked hot kicking ass like that.

“Go,” Bucky ordered, helping you up and wrapping an arm around your waist to steady and guide you as the four of you made a break for it. Eventually, you reached an open storage container, and Sam helped you into it as Bucky fended off the last few bounty hunters.

When Bucky burst through the back of the container with his vibranium arm, you heard tires screech and an engine rev, before Zemo pulled up in a sports car.

“Supercharged,” he stated with the faintest smile. Christ, he was just a little bit of a goofball, wasn’t he?

“You’re going back to jail,” Sam said angrily, then turned to you. “And you were supposed to tell us if he was going to screw us over.”

“Nagel shouldn’t have been kept alive. I know you don’t like it, but it is the truth,” you reasoned.

“He didn’t have to die though, dammit! He could have just gone to jail, locked up for the rest of his life!”

“Oh, yes, just like Zemo? The man standing five feet from us, very much not in jail?” you countered, and he frowned, knowing you had a point. “Once word got out that Nagel knew how to recreate the serum, every power hungry individual and group in the world would be trying to find a way to either break him out or ask him about it. And I’m sure he would have told anyone for the right price. Even if the serum didn’t fall into the hands of the wrong people, even if a seemingly good-natured country like America were to get ahold of it, it could still be used for evil. They clearly don’t have the best moral compass, considering the asshole they gave Captain America’s shield to.”

“Alright, yeah, you’ve made your point,” Sam grumbled. “But I still think we should take Zemo back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo interjected.

“He’s right, we need him. And there’s three of us, and at least 20 of them. Come on,” Bucky said, pulling open the door of the car before turning around to help you into the vehicle. Only then did Zemo notice the blood on your hands and sweater, and Bucky’s blazer pressed against your torso.

“What happened to her?” Zemo inquired, sitting up to help you sit behind him, and frowning when you grimaced as you maneuvered into your seat, careful not to get any blood on the lovely cream interior. The car didn’t belong to any of you, but it was so beautiful that you hated to harm it.

“Stray shard of metal during the explosion in Nagel’s container,” you explained, grimacing a little as you leaned your head against the headrest behind you, eyes closed as you willed the pain to subside.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be. Probably just needs a few stitches, then I’ll be good as new,” you assured him, shooting him a tight-lipped smile, which he didn’t seem to buy before he removed his trenchcoat and laid it on top of you.

“You look cold,” he muttered, then turned back around in his seat to face the steering wheel.

“Fine, but if you try that shit again…” Sam told Zemo as he climbed into the car.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zemo responded, and you didn’t have to check his thoughts to know that that was a complete lie.

Sharon bid you all goodbye, and Sam thanked her for her help before sliding down into his seat.

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam asked Bucky.

“No,” he deadpanned, causing you to chuckle under your breath, which earned you a glare from Sam.

The drive back to the airport was mostly silent, which you were thankful for, as you didn’t really have the energy for talking. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but you’d still lost enough and exerted yourself enough that you were feeling fatigued. Zemo parked the car on the landing strip, a short distance from his jet, and was quick to exit the vehicle to help you out. You thought you were doing quite well, until you actually stood up outside the car, and the exhaustion combined with some wooziness from the blood loss made your knees buckle. You would have fallen if Zemo hadn’t lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“Let us get you aboard the plane, and I will dress your wound,” he said, then stooped to scoop you up into his arms bridal-style, and began carrying you toward the jet. Sam and Bucky eyed him curiously, but said nothing. Admittedly, you were too flustered by the close proximity and his gentleness toward you to say anything yourself. You looked over his shoulder, admiring his stolen vehicle one last time.

In Sokovian, you stated with a smile, “I’d like one of those by the way, the Pontiac.”

“Whatever your heart desires,” he responded calmly, matching your Sokovian. As he approached Oeznik, who stood beside the steps of the jet, he continued in that language as he instructed the butler, “Have that car, or one exactly like it, delivered to Berlin as soon as possible, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Zemo laid you down gently on the couch inside the plane, Sam and Bucky following close behind. Once inside, Oeznik brought Zemo the first aid kit, a needle, and some stitching. Both of the other men offered to do it themselves, but Zemo insisted that he could do a better job than both of them combined. In a manner much unlike the night before, Zemo lifted your shirt to have access to the wound, and set to work. Bucky let you hold his hand as Zemo cleaned the area and did the stitches, while you forced yourself to breathe evenly and ignore the pain of the antiseptic and the needle. A mere fifteen minutes later, you were all patched up, and Zemo was helping you up and sending you to the washroom with a change of clothes.

“You’re gettin’ real sweet on her, Zemo,” you heard Sam note, his tone suspicious. “You better watch yourself, man. Step out of line with her and we won’t hesitate to end you.”

“Understood,” Zemo replied nonchalantly, then you could hear him open a book and take a sip of his champagne. For your own amusement, you took a peek into his mind, and found that he was thinking, “Too late.”

You smiled to yourself as you undressed, carefully removing the blood-soaked sweater and placing it in a trash bag. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you first noticed the hickeys from last night, then the miscellaneous cuts scattered across your skin from the various explosions, and the gauze taped over your wound. The hickeys caused your smile to widen further, and you donned the plain black t-shirt of Zemo’s and his loose gray sweatpants before rejoining them in the lounge. His eyes darkened in that way as his gaze raked up and down your body, clearly enjoying the sight of you in his clothing, but he quickly returned his attention to Sam.

“She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go,” Zemo suggested, then leaned back in his seat. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face-to-face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.”

A few hours later, Bucky and Sam had fallen asleep after reclining their chairs and dimming the lights, as you laid on the couch, halfway asleep yourself despite the book in your hands. Once their near-identical snores had filled the cabin for several minutes, Zemo stood from his seat and came to crouch down beside your head. His expression was unreadable as he stared at you, before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I must admit, I was very concerned when I saw all the blood on your shirt. I have only just found you, my Sokovian beauty. I would prefer to draw out having the privilege of being acquainted with you for as long as possible, but I cannot do that if you get killed.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” you teased, and he smiled softly. “Thank you for taking such good care of my injury earlier.” He said nothing in response, simply smiled a bit wider and kissed you again, longer this time, but still far shorter and far less intimately than you’d have preferred. You both had to take the others into consideration, even despite their snores, because you were quite certain they’d put a bullet between Zemo’s eyes and send you home immediately if they learned just how “sweet on you” the man truly was. He stood and fetched a blanket from an overhead cabinet before laying it over you, then pressed his lips to your forehead, and returned to his seat.

“Goodnight, Liebling,” Zemo said softly, flicking off the last light in the cabin as he settled back into his seat.

“Goodnight, Baron.”

—————

Riga was somehow comparably chaotic to Madripoor, in terms of the events that transpired there.

Shortly after you arrived at Zemo’s estate, Bucky returned from his "walk" to declare that the Wakandans were there to take Zemo, although he bought some time. In all honesty, you were only half-ass listening to him, because Zemo had exited the bathroom with wet hair and a purple robe that revealed half his chest. He caught you staring and shot you a subtle wink while Sam and Bucky were talking, and you rolled your eyes in return.

Next stop was a refugee camp, where you, Bucky, and Sam searched in vain to get any information on Danya Madani. Zemo somehow managed to accomplish the task, albeit in the creepiest way possible, which you teased him relentlessly for on the walk back to his flat. When he revealed that the girl he'd spoken to told him the time and location of the funeral, but refused to tell any of you, Bucky was quick to anger, snatching the teacup from Zemo’s hand and throwing it against the wall. Sam talked him down before you grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him gently toward the door.

"Come on, let's take a walk. I saw a little farmer's market down the road; let's go have a snack and explore a little, yeah?" you asked, your tone calm and soothing to contrast the rage that swarmed in his mind, and Bucky nodded gravely to you as he let you lead him. When you glanced back into the flat as you closed the door behind you, you saw that Zemo was wearing a frown, and a quick peek at his thoughts informed you that he was pouting a bit, wishing you'd have just sent Bucky off and stayed with him. You rolled your eyes internally, then accompanied Bucky to the market, where the two of you ate some plums and took a little walk. When the two of you returned to the flat, Zemo announced that it was time to head to the funeral.

"Did you enjoy your little excursion with James?" Zemo inquired in Sokovian, a tinge of spite in his voice. "Did you relieve his tension?"

"It wouldn't be any of your business if I did," you shot back, also in Sokovian. The disdain on his face disappeared quickly, and you added, "But no, we just took a walk and had some food, as I said we would. Jealousy does not suit you, Baron."

Zemo's voice took on a gentler tone, the Sokovian dripping from his tongue like honey as he said, "My apologies, darling. You are just so magnificent that I want you all to myself; the thought of you with another man is enviable."

"Don’t apologize. Just end it."

He nodded, and before either of you could say anything else, that asshole John Walker showed up, along with his partner. They demanded that Sam and Bucky no longer keep them in the dark, but ultimately, Walker conceded to follow Zemo, and allow Sam the opportunity to talk to Karli alone. As Sam walked off, Walker grabbed Zemo forcefully and handcuffed him to some kind of metal contraption on the wall.

"Aggressive. But I get it," Zemo quipped. He turned to you, and in Sokovian, said, "Once I get out of these, perhaps we could use them to our advantage later this evening."

"Zip it, Zemo."

Unsurprisingly, Walker betrayed his agreement with Sam, barging in on the memorial before Sam's allotted time was up.

"Uh-uh. No, no, no, no. This is a bad idea."

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight," Bucky responded calmly.

"Don’t do that. Don't patronize me."

"Then do not behave so childishly," you retorted, and Bucky elbowed you while Walker shot you an icy glare. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky cut him off, aiming to divert the subject before Walker pushed you any further.

"He knows what he's doing."

Walker was silent for a moment more, before he grabbed the shield – which shouldn't be in his possession in the first place – and marched toward the door. "I'm goin' in."

Bucky stopped him, but after Walker guilt-tripped him, Bucky stepped to the side to allow him to pass. You groaned in exasperation the second Walker walked off.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"It was either that, or you and me fight Walker and Battlescar – or whatever his stupid code name is. I'm already on probation, and I helped the guy that split up the Avengers break out of prison. I really don't need ‘beat the shit out of the new Cap’ added to my list of wrongdoings," Bucky said, running a hand through his hair before clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go find Sam."

As Bucky jogged off in the direction Walker had gone, you followed while grumbling, "My preference would have been the latter, but no, why would anyone ask for my opinion? I'm just the pet mind reader."

When the two of you caught up to Walker and Hoskins, the former was thrown into a table by Karli, and she ran off. Bucky chased after her, and you took another route to try to intercept her, to no avail. You caught up with Sam and Bucky a few minutes later, out of breath as Sam commented that the building was like a maze, and you wholeheartedly agreed. By the time the three of you found the others, Karli was gone, Walker was just standing there, and Zemo was out cold on the floor.

Walker and Hoskins stated that they were going to search for Karli, and ran off. Bucky threw Zemo over his shoulder like a damn ragdoll, and the three of you trudged back to Zemo’s flat, a little worn out and a little defeated. Once there, Bucky threw him down on the couch, and Zemo bounced limply atop the cushions, still unconscious. Sam began working on his laptop, and Bucky went on yet another walk, while you searched for the first aid kit.

Zemo looked surprisingly peaceful and non-threatening as he laid there, appearing to be asleep. You kneeled beside his head and lightly applied some antiseptic on the cut left by Cap's shield, right at the top of his hairline, and you found yourself admiring him. He had soft features for a man so dark inside; soft chestnut brown hair, adorable nose, slight bit of stubble across his gentle jawline and neck. You began dabbing the antiseptic again, still lost in your own thoughts when he awoke very suddenly, grabbing your wrist in a fierce grip out of reflex. Zemo's eyes were wide when he first opened them, but upon seeing you, he visibly relaxed and released his grip on you.

"Apologies," he whispered, then groaned softly when he felt the pain in his head. You stood silently and retrieved a rag from the drawer beside the sink, wetting it with cold water, then filled a glass with some ice and brandy and returned, handing both items to Zemo. He thanked you very sincerely, then laid the rag over his forehead and eyes, and held the glass atop his chest.

You were grateful that Sam hadn't noticed you doting on him, too focused on his laptop, because he'd have definitely asked you about it, and you didn't even have an answer for yourself. It wasn't like there was any need or obligation for you to tend to him like that, and yet you did without even thinking. As you took a seat opposite Zemo on the couch, you told yourself that it was merely payback for how he assisted you with your own injury the day before, and left it at that.

It wasn't long before Walker and his partner showed up again, demanding to place Zemo under arrest. You, Sam, and Zemo all stood when he burst through the doors, all silently conglomerating to one side of the room. Walker had the gall to threaten Sam, and it had your fingers twitching on the gun in your thigh holster in rage. Before anything could come of that, the Wakandans Bucky had mentioned showed up, and when Walker tried talking down to them before placing a hand on one's shoulder, melee ensued.

You leaned on the bar with one arm, watching in amusement as Walker got his ass handed to him. Zemo seemed to be in the same boat, observing without expression as he passed you his drink, and you took a couple of sips before returning it.

"We should do something," Sam said to you and Bucky.

"Looking strong, John!"

"Yes, excellent form! Top notch," you added. "Really showing them the prowess of the new Captain America!"

"Bucky…" Sam chided, prompting Bucky to finally intervene. Sam looked to you, and you held your hands up in defense.

"I am not fighting the goddamn Dora Milaje. I don't feel like dying today – especially not for the sake of helping John Walker."

Sam sighed before joining the fight himself, and that was when Zemo’s hand enveloped yours, silently tugging you towards the bathroom. You opened your mouth to say "Is this really the time for a quickie?" but he held a finger to his lips, effectively silencing you. Once he had successfully guided you into the bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind him, and shoved the tub to the side, revealing a secret passageway.

"Come with me," Zemo said simply, and you scoffed.

"I'm not abandoning Sam and Bucky. My place is here."

"Actually, if I remember correctly, your assignment is to keep an eye on me. Although I'd rather not have to, I will overpower you if I must, because I will be leaving now. So, it is technically your job to follow me, and it would behoove you to simply follow your comrades’ orders without an unnecessary scuffle."

The man really didn't miss a beat, did he? Sam and Bucky had, in fact, assigned you to watch Zemo. Although it was implied that that was everyone's task, they had specifically delegated the role to you. So, it was a matter of whether or not you could take Zemo in a fight, and although you secretly hoped he'd go easy on you, you knew that his own self-preservation was his chief concern.

"Fine," you grumbled, not missing the smile on his face as you shoved past him and jumped down into the tunnel.

Your joints ached in protest of your actions, but you ignored it. He was right behind you, not even bothering to cover the passageway back up before taking off in one of the three directions that the tunnel led to. You were right behind him, and it wasn't long before the sounds of the scuffle faded away. Roughly five minutes later, you reached the end, and he pushed aside the manhole above you and climbed out. Zemo took your hands and helped you out as well, before replacing the manhole while you surveyed the area. It was a city street, but they all looked the same in Riga, so you had no idea where you were.

"Come on," Zemo said, lacing his fingers with yours as you ran down the street. He took a few turns and ended up in the town square, where he led you into a hotel. As you entered the lobby, he explained, "We'll stay here for a few hours, essentially hiding in plain sight, to allow the Dora Milaje and Walker time to leave and search for me elsewhere."

You nodded, and as you approached the front desk, Zemo wrapped his arm snugly around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Do you have any availability for the night?" Zemo inquired, then smiled lovingly at you. "It is our wedding day, and my beautiful bride simply cannot wait until we reach our honeymoon destination to get her hands on me."

You sent Zemo a quick glare, but the man at the desk didn't notice. He chuckled and nodded, saying something about "What a happy couple" as he booked the room for you. Zemo ignored your pointed look and kissed your temple, thanking the man and paying for the room before leading you in the direction of the room. As soon as you were out of earshot of the desk clerk, you glowered at Zemo once again, although his arm remained around your waist until you reached the room. Not that you minded, really.

"'Beautiful bride'? 'Honeymoon'? Really?"

"Yes," Zemo replied calmly, unlocking the door and opening it for you. As you walked past him, he elaborated, "If Walker comes looking for me, he'll be asking for a former SHIELD agent and a criminal. If the gentleman at the desk is convinced we're a happy newlywed couple, he won't even think to mention us to Walker."

It didn't take more than half a second to find his genuine answer in his mind. "How smoothly and effortlessly you lie, Zemo. You simply wanted to touch me again, so you came up with a convenient excuse."

Zemo licked his lips subtly, before shrugging with a small smile, wordlessly saying 'you got me there.'

"We need to get back to Sam and Bucky once Walker and the Dora Milaje are gone, but there's no foolproof way to go about it," you began pacing the room, as Zemo remained fixed beside the wall. "If I text Sam or Bucky, Walker will know they got a message, and they're both the worst liars I've ever met. God knows we don't need the Dora having any idea about where you are, you wouldn't last a full minute before they drove a spear through your chest. We also can't wait around too long, because then Sam and Bucky might leave Riga, and —"

You were still pacing and mid-sentence when Zemo suddenly grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, effectively silencing you. His other hand rested on the curve of your waist, pulling you against his chest. The surprise of the act and subsequent warm feeling in your stomach absolutely obliterated all other thoughts from your mind, and all you could focus on was him.

At some point, you regained your senses, albeit still in a haze. You pressed your palms to his shoulders and shoved him a few inches back, and he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes and lust-blown pupils.

“We – we need to focus on Sam and Bucky,” you managed to stammer out, but Zemo simply cupped your cheek and stroked the side of your face with his thumb.

“Is that truly what you want to be focusing on, Schatz?” Zemo inquired, his voice low, taking on even more of a gravely tone than usual. It flooded your veins with heat and desire, and you found your eyes fluttering closed as he bent down to pepper your neck with kisses. “Or would you rather simply wait out Walker and the Dora Milaje here, with me? Allowing me to touch you, taste you, in all the ways I know you crave?”

The final shred of your sanity left the building when he gently bit down on your neck, at the point where it met your shoulder, and you found yourself releasing a breathy moan and melting into his touch. Zemo wasted no time in kissing you once again, lips fast and insistent on yours, one hand on the small of your back, pressing you against him, and the other on the nape of your neck once again. His body leaned into yours as he kissed you with fervor, and your hands longingly grasped the front of his sweater. Eventually, Zemo abruptly spun you around to press your back against the wall that had previously been behind him, and he hiked one of your legs up onto his hip, gripping it under your thigh. His other hand slowly moved from the back of your neck to the front, fingers curling deliciously around your throat as he applied a little pressure, earning another airy moan from you.

As if on reflex, his hips bucked up into you, and the friction left you mewling. Just like last time, it seemed to be your noises that set Zemo off, as he released a low growl from the back of his throat and dropped your leg to tear your shirt off while you took the hint and kicked off your shoes. He undid the fasten on your jeans with lightning speed, and yanked them – along with your panties – down past your hips so you could kick them both off. Next went your bra, which was flung god knows where in the room, and Zemo took a small step back to admire you.

It only lasted for a split second, because you then grabbed the straps he wore around his shoulders and used them to pull him in and kiss him again. Zemo’s hands glided slowly, sensually down your shoulders, your back, then came to rest upon your ass, grabbing it fiercely with both hands. His hands trailed further down, to the undersides of your thighs, before he lifted you with surprising ease and carried you over to the bed at the center of the room. Zemo threw you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, gaze locked on your chest as he watched your breasts bounce from the force, but you were quick to sit upright and pull him back in by the shoulder straps. You removed them then, as well as his turtleneck and belt buckle, and he was cooperative in removing his own boots and slacks, leaving him in his black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric there.

When you reached out to remove his briefs, Zemo pushed you to lay down by your shoulder, and knelt down at the edge of the bed, opening your legs at the knee with a harsh grip. You didn’t even have time to blink before he dove in, licking a long stripe up your slit before moving to your clit as your head fell back onto the mattress and your eyes fluttered closed. He focused primarily on your clit, occasionally lapping at your folds, but always returning his attention to that bundle of nerves. Gasps and moans were already falling for your lips, but when his middle finger and ring finger entered the fray, you found yourself crying out his name and tangling your fingers in his hair.

That delectable little growl of his escaped him once more, and you felt the vibrations of it against you, which warranted another moan, and Zemo’s fingers began delving in and out of your core at a steadfast pace. When he began curling them upwards, rubbing them against that sweet spot deep inside you, you were a goner. He wanted more of your beautiful sounds of pleasure, wanted to see you become more and more undone for him. You only lasted a couple minutes longer, growing progressively louder and more unhinged with each passing second. You were then launched over the edge, one hand tugging on his chestnut tresses and the other gripping the comforter of the bed, crying out his name amongst various explicatives.

When your eyes opened again, Zemo was standing, kicking off his boxers as he made eye contact with you while he sucked his fingers clean of you. He had set his wallet on the bedside table in the midst of your pacing, so he retrieved it and pulled a condom from one of the compartments. You sat up and snatched it from him, quickly tearing it open and rolling it down over his length. The sensation caused a sigh to leave his lips, before murmuring, "Eager, are we, Kätzchen?"

Electing to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed with you, wordlessly instructing him to lay down by pressing your hands on his chest. Zemo got the message with ease, happily complying as you straddled him. The sight of you sinking down on his clock, your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself, caused him to groan in pleasure. Far too eager to spend an abundant amount of time adjusting to him, you began moving, rocking your hips back and forth at a resolute pace, savoring the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Zemo's hands rested on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin as he helped you keep your rhythm, while he gazed up at you as if you were a goddess in the flesh, his jaw hanging open slightly and hair disheveled.

By the time you were approaching your second orgasm, Zemo could tell, from the faltering of your hips as they strove to increase their speed, and from the way your nails raked down his chest each time you used his length inside you to hit that special spot there. He began thrusting up into you, eager to feel you come on his cock. You unintentionally caught a passing glance at his thoughts, and learned that it seemed that he always wanted more of you, needed more of you, to the point that he questioned if you had toyed with his mind somehow. You were about to inform him that no, you had not done anything to his mind, when he trusted particularly hard and deep up into you and his fingertips dug deliciously hard into your hips at the same time, and all sensual thoughts left your mind as you met your release a second time.

Still shaking slightly and moaning breathlessly, Zemo flipped you over onto your back, lifted your calf up onto his hip and held it there, and began pistoning in and out of you at a desperate, unforgiving pace. When your eyes fluttered open, you found that he was practically snarling above you, teeth bared in concentration and an intense fire in his eyes. It reminded you that his softness toward you did not change the fact that he was a criminal mastermind and former kill squad leader, who had done a great many terrible things. Yet the thought only made you want him even more, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him into a heated, haphazard kiss.

Zemo thrust in and out of you like a man on a mission, the sound of his pelvis colliding with yours filling the room, before he pulled out of you long enough to flip you onto your chest, face in the pillows and ass in the air, then resumed his pace. The new angle felt incredible, and it didn't take long before you were moaning into the pillows, fists clenched around the duvet. In the blink of an eye, Zemo grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you upright, your back flush against his chest.

"Do not hide your beautiful noises from me, Liebling. I want to hear you," Zemo commanded, and you moaned in response, both as a confirmation of his words and as a natural reaction to the low, gravely tone his voice took on. His hand moved to encase your neck, tilting your head back even further so he could trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, before biting down on your shoulder, earning a shuddering gasp from you. "Now tell me, Kätzchen: who makes you feel this good?"

"You," you choked out, groaning in pleasure when his fingers tightened their grip on your throat.

"Me, what?"

"You, Baron," you corrected, and Zemo hummed in approval, kissing you quickly in praise. He gave your neck another squeeze before throwing you back down onto the mattress, his hands on your hips as he returned his focus to fucking the very soul out of you.

As his hips began to stutter into yours and soft moans began falling from his lips, signaling he was approaching his end, Zemo reached around your body to begin expertly rubbing your clit, desperate for you to finish in unison. The way your walls fluttered around him let him know that he was on the right track, so he quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit, careful to maintain the angle he was thrusting at. As you fell apart beneath him a third and final time, your scream of "Baron!" and your core clenching around him like the most luxurious vice, Zemo found himself crying out your name in accompaniment with a low, guttural moan, spilling himself into the condom.

Zemo didn't move for a moment, hands still clutching your hips, albeit with a looser grip now, as he fought to catch his breath. Still panting, he slowly removed himself from you, falling into a sweaty heap beside you. Breathing heavily yourself, you leaned over to kiss him – far slower this time, both of you reveling in post-coitus bliss. He affectionately brushed your hair away from your face, as it had been stuck to your forehead from perspiration, before stroking your cheek with his thumb.

A brief eternity later, Zemo stood and headed to the restroom, no doubt disposing of the condom, before returning in one of the hotel’s white bathrobes and holding a cold rag. He flopped down onto the mattress, placing the towel over his forehead and eyes as he had earlier in his flat.

“Apologies, Schatz. As enjoyable as that was, it certainly did not help my migraine,” Zemo explained, blindly reaching out to grab your hand and bring it to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You murmured a dismissive ‘you’re fine’ before heading to the washroom yourself, hopping into the shower and allowing the burning temperature of the water to ease the ache in practically all your muscles – some of it from fighting, some of it from fucking – although you suspected that the ache in your thighs, from being so tense throughout the multiple orgasms, wasn’t going away anytime soon. Thankfully, Zemo truly had done a marvelous job on your stitches, and the wound was already healing up nicely. By the time you finished your shower, the steam had clouded the room and coated the mirrors with condensation, but you felt more relaxed than you had in days. Donning a bathrobe yourself, you exited the bathroom, and situated yourself in the chair beside the floor-to-ceiling window on the wall of the room. Zemo was snoring softly, and the quiet tranquility of the room and the comfort of your seat sent you into a cat nap of your own, your head falling back against the chair as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were entirely unsure how long you had slept, but when you awoke, Zemo was sitting with his back resting against the headboard, reading a random book he’d found in the room’s nightstand. He looked up at you long enough to flash you a small smile, before returning to the book. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, then sat up straighter in the chair and gazed out the window beside you. You hadn’t noticed, but the room had a lovely view of the town square.

A few minutes after you began observing the city below, your eyebrows practically shot up into your hairline as you saw none other than the bastard himself, John Walker, chasing one of the Flag Smashers before hitting him with the shield, sending the man flying into the statue at the center of the square. Each member of the bustling crowd stopped dead in their tracks, watching the scene unfold before them, as this new Captain America placed his foot on the man’s chest, pinning him against the stairs of the statue, as the man screamed, “It wasn’t me!”

The chair you were sitting in clattered to the floor as you stood bolt upright, a shuddering gasp escaping you and your hand flying to your mouth as you watched Walker raise the shield high above his head, a completely unhinged look upon his face. Zemo was at your side in an instant, his hands on your upper arms as he stood behind you, a worried expression on his face, wondering what could have caused you such distress. Before he had the chance to ask, Zemo’s eye caught the scene below, and you both watched in shock and horror as John Walker drove the shield into the Flag Smasher’s chest, again and again and again, until the man just laid there – bloodied, bludgeoned, and unmoving. Dead, at the hands of the new Captain America.

—————

@henrysmorgan @clints-lucky-arrow @therenlover

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

My Side

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: language, lots of smut, prostate massage, fluff, some mentions of angst (but it’s very minimal)

Genre: Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Y/N has had her entire future planned out ever since she could remember: step one- graduate college (done), step two- find a good-paying job (done), step three- marry someone she adores (done), and step four- have kids (???). She understands that life is full of obstacles, but is it too much to ask for your husband to finally knock you up?

A/N: Big apology to this anon user who requested this and had to wait like 8 billion years for me to finish it.

The fertility clinic was unusually cold, and I found myself shivering in direct contradiction with the sweltering summer heat collecting outside of the office building. Maybe that was the point: the doctors wanted to keep you totally alert while you waited for what seemed like hours for a standard routine visit. Because I could’ve already fallen asleep at this point - taking advantage of my day off from work to do something other than fret over the working condition of my reproductive system.

Of course, there was also the issue of my grumpy husband who had been thoroughly displeased when he found out exactly what a pap smear test implied. “He was totally checking you out when we came in,” Chan said. “Then, he insisted on sticking that thing up your vagina?”

“Oh, give it a rest, Chan,” I said. “I knew they would do that before I even came here.”

“I think he just wanted to look at your pussy,” Chan insisted. “And he did it right in front of me like I didn’t even exist!”

“You weren’t forced to stay in the room,” I pointed out, which I would’ve preferred but Chan insisted on standing over me like some kind of jealous observer who actually wanted to watch such an intimate procedure.

“Yeah, he would’ve preferred that,” Chan said, leaning further back in his chair. “How the hell is this even supposed to help us? We’ve only been trying for a few months.”

“Well, I want to make sure everything is working properly,” I said, and (just to spite him) I glanced down at his crotch. “What if you’re having performance issues, honey?”

“My dick works just fine,” Chan insisted. “But you know what? I think it’s partially your fault that we can’t pregnant. You’re putting too much pressure on him and it’s hard for me to focus.”

“Him?” I questioned with a grin. "Do you really want to personify your penis?”

“That’s not the point!” Chan exclaimed. “Did you even hear me, Y/N?”

“But what is the point, Chan? What exactly are you having trouble focusing on?” I asked. “We’re talking about fucking, not a tax audit. Keep the office out of our bedroom.”

“You don’t think I know the difference?”

“Apparently not since it requires more effort than necessary for you to orgasm,” I screeched, barely getting the words out before the doctor’s return.

Immediately, Chan and I were both forced smiles, pretending like we weren’t just having a pointless argument. “Well,” the doctor said. “Everything is fine on your end, Mrs. Bang. I guess that means we can perform some tests on your husband.”

“Oh, that would be great,” I said, even as Chan shifted restlessly from next to me. “Is there anything you need?”

“We’d like to ask you for a sperm sample,” the doctor replied while handing Chan a clear, transparent plastic cup that he accepted with obvious hesitation. “I’ll give you some time.”

“Thank you,” I said, looking over at Chan who was glaring at the cup as if personally offended by its presence.

But at least he waited until the doctor was gone before looking at me with wide eyes. “What do I do?” Chan asked, holding up the plastic cup while appearing thoroughly taken aback.

“It’s just masturbating,” I hissed at him.

“They want me to jerk off into this cup?” Chan gasped like the idea was so totally perplexing to him.

“How else will they get a sperm sample?” I asked him, rolling my eyes because I was growing impatient.

But Chan still hesitated, using one hand to hold the cup while his other traveled down to the front of his jeans. “Do I just...”

“Yes!” I shouted while standing up from my chair. “It’s nothing hard, Chan, you’ve been masturbating since 9th grade!”

“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing to do it here,” Chan argued, and I sighed for what had to be the thousandth time that day.

“There’s a curtain for privacy,” I said, reaching for my bag from the floor. “I’ll be waiting outside until you’re done.”

“Y/N!” Chan whined, but I left without another word, hoping that Chan could get his shit together because I was exhausted and the prospect of the bed waiting for me at home was suddenly everything that I wanted.

It turned out that Chan and I were both perfectly healthy, and there should be nothing impeding my ability to finally get pregnant. Chan even managed to smile after our doctor complimented his sperm because they were powerful swimmers or whatever the hell that meant. But that had also been hours ago, and after a well-deserved nap, I was feeling exceptionally horny. Thankfully, Chan was never the type to turn down sex, and a few innocent kisses had turned into a full-blown pornography session within moments of me circling my hips against the front of his jeans.

“Fuck me, Chan,” I said, and he nodded eagerly as we both helped each other escape the obstacle of our clothes.

“You should apologize to my dick first,” Chan said teasingly when he had me spread open in front of him, fisting his cock as he started jerking himself off.

“What? Why?”

“You questioned my performance earlier,” Chan said with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe my cock isn’t good enough for you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, whining when I tried to wrap my hand around the base of his erection, only to have Chan knock it away with a sharp growl. "Alright!” I groaned. “I’m sorry I questioned your all-powerful shaft, okay? So, can you please just fuck me already?”

Chan chuckled at my easy compliance, and he ran his thumb across the slit of his cock before positioning himself at my wet entrance. “Remember that next time, Y/N,” he said, exhaling shakily when he started to push inside.

“Shit!” I cried, reaching out for his broad shoulders as I held on as tight as possible for the ride waiting ahead of me.

“Such a tight cunt,” Chan remarked, pausing a moment to grind himself against my insides just to feel the pressure around his cock.

“Go faster,” I requested, throwing my head back when he complied, smacking his hips into mine as he searched for the perfect angle to leave me seeing stars.

“Yeah?” Chan purred, and he started thrusting faster than before, dragging his cock against the pulsating walls of my cunt, forcing more arousal to leak out around him. “Look at how good you always take my cock, baby.”

I reveled in the praise, craning my neck to the side just so that I could watch him disappear inside of me over and over again to match the sensation of his thick cock filling me up so well that it was almost mind-numbingly good. The best part was the pleasing sound of Chan’s moans, and I admired the way that he held himself up over me so that his muscles were practically bulging as he rolled his hips with seductive grinds. Meanwhile, I was drooling over the visual of his bulging biceps, whining underneath him because Chan was being unusually rough. Not that I would ever complain since every thrust managed to brush the tip of his cock perfectly against my cervix.

But it was only after Chan reached down to add a finger to the already tight fit of his cock inside my pussy that I remembered something that I had read on the internet as part of my endless pregnancy research. My eyes flew open at the reminder, and the lustful haze surrounding my sex-addled brain quickly vanished. “Hold on, Chan,” I said, pushing against his chest and disrupting the steady rhythm he had been maintaining.

“W-what?” Chan stuttered, pulling out while watching me roll over onto my stomach.

“This is a better position,” I said, raising my ass high into the air before giving him a teasing wiggle.

“Whatever,” Chan grunted, still too gone in his pleasure to care that much about my shenanigans. He immediately caged me in with his thighs, fumbling with his erect cock before aligning the tip with my aching cunt. I was relieved when he started jostling his cock back where it belonged, meandering in elegant strokes that resulted in the best friction.

“Make sure you come,” I told him while decorating the pale skin of his shoulders with nail marks as I reached behind me.

“You first,” Chan insisted, and my heart warmed at his selflessness even while it felt like all the blood inside of me was rushing south, moving through my veins and spilling over with a rapid descent that left me seeing white while Chan moved even quicker, thrusting like a man deprived.

I felt him come only moments later with the familiar heat that I had grown to appreciate more and more over the last few months. Thereafter, I immediately reached for a pillow from behind me, wincing at the sensitivity that lingered between my legs. “What are you doing?” Chan asked when he collapsed on the bed next to me.

“It’s supposed to help,” I said, raising my hips to place the pillow directly underneath me. “This article said that raising your legs after sex can improve your chances.”

“That seems ridiculous, Y/N,” Chan said.

“Hey! Blame your sperm,” I countered. “It’s not my fault they need an extra boost.”

“My sperm are just fine,” Chan grunted. “You heard the doctor. They’re excellent swimmers.”

“This is just a precaution,” I told him, sighing in relief when I reached down to cup my heat, ensuring that all of Chan’s cum stayed inside where it belonged.

For the past several weeks, work had become something of a chore that I was forced to endure on a regular basis. It was often a struggle to force my way through piles of paperwork or tedious emails that always said much of the same thing. After a while, I would find myself glaring at the clock because I was quite certain that time was moving slow for the sole purpose of annoying me.

There was also the issue of dealing with my colleagues, especially the ones who liked to gossip and had effectively made a whole thing out of my failed attempts at pregnancy. “Oh, Y/N,” they would tell me. “It’s been three months, hasn’t it?”

Like they didn’t have anything better to do with their lives besides meddle in mine. But the worst of them all were the ones who decided that they were some kind of authority figures and tried to give me helpful “advice.” Everything from the shit that I had already heard from my doctor and the articles online, to bizarre practices that left me wondering where they found their information.

My manager’s personal assistant was a frequent advocate. She was far more insistent than the rest of them because she already had two kids at home who she described as future Mozarts in the making. And because she had already been successful (twice, I might add), she always sat next to me at lunch with a new suggestion that supposedly guaranteed fertilization.

“It could be that he’s under too much pressure,” she told me before biting into her salad.

“I’m asking him to have sex with me, not invent a new computer,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve both been having a lot of sex, which might seem like a good idea,” she continued. “But it might actually turn out to be far worse.”

“What do you suggest then? Should I kick him out of the bedroom for a week or two?” I snarked, but she was hardly bothered by my sarcastic attitude.

“My husband and I tried stimulating him more directly,” she explained. “Maybe you could try it out.”

“How so?”

“It’s something like a prostate massage,” she revealed in a hushed tone as if it was top-secret information. “There’s all kinds of information about it on the internet.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, wanting nothing more than to brush aside her words, but maybe I was too desperate because I found myself skimming through countless articles after lunch, soaking in the vast amounts of information that I uncovered.

And I left the office that day with a new strategy in mind to surprise my husband.

The moment I first walked through the door, I was yanking off my jacket and calling for Chan who ducked his head out of our bedroom. “Why the hell are you yelling?”

“Because I have a wonderful idea,” I said, practically skipping over to him and offering him a deep kiss.

“Y/N,” Chan murmured against my touch, grabbing my shoulders to pull me back. “What are you going on about?”

“Just take your stupid clothes off,” I said, skirting past him into the bedroom. “I want you naked on the bed.”

“You’re already horny?” Chan chuckled, but he made no protest of yanking his shirt over his head.

“I want to try something,” I told him, opening the door to our closet to search for something that we hadn’t used together in a long time.

“Should I be afraid?” Chan asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he fisted his half-hard erection.

“Not if you have an open mind,” I said, turning around to hold up the bottle of lube, and Chan’s smile instantly vanished.

“What’s that for?”

“Well, tonight I’m using it on you,” I said, laughing at the way his forehead creased in confusion. “My co-worker actually made a pretty useful recommendation today.”

“Okay?...” Chan trailed off with an expression of perfect concentration - like he was doing his absolute best to understand.

“The internet called it prostate milking,” I explained, biting my lower lip to keep myself from laughing at the horrified expression on Chan’s face. “I want to stimulate your prostate.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Chan asked.

“Look, it has a lot of medical benefits,” I said. “Plus, I read that it can feel really good.”

Chan squired anxiously on the bed when I sat down next to him, and I could see that his cock was perfectly flaccid between his legs. “I don’t know, Y/N-”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted him. “This is perfectly normal. Now, be a good boy for me and get on your hands and knees.”

Chan frowned. “Good boy?” he grumbled before obeyed my command, crawling his way up the bed to position himself in the way I had suggested.

“There we go,” I said, softly running a hand down his spine.

“So far, I’m not impressed,” Chan muttered.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” I said, situating myself behind him before palming his ass. “This looks better than I remember, Channie.”

“Yeah, I guess the squats helped,” Chan said, and he flinched when I snapped a glove in place over my right hand. “What’s that for?”

“You think I’m gonna mess around your ass without a glove?” I snorted. “That’s not very hygienic.”

“Hygienic, yeah, okay,” Chan huffed, and he let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a grunt when I opened the bottle of lube and drizzled some on my fingertips.

“Hold still,” I said, trying to get him to relax when my finger started circling his asshole, pushing against the tight muscle which wasn’t so easy to penetrate. However, with enough perseverance, I forced one finger inside and heard Chan release a rather unattractive sound.

“How does it feel?” I asked him, trying to move my finger around like I had read online.

“It just feels like you’ve shoved your finger up my ass,” Chan snapped, and I knew not to take it personally since he wasn’t so willing to go along with my crazy scheme in the first place.

“Don’t be so tense,” I said, rubbing my hand along his lower back. “Should I use more lube?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Y/N,” Chan groaned, and I could tell that he was growing frustrated.

I was also losing confidence - wondering if this had been a bad idea because it definitely wasn’t as easy as my co-worker promised. Plus, I could tell that Chan was uncomfortable, squirming around under me while his cock hung limply between his legs. Clearly, he wasn’t finding any pleasure from this, and maybe it was entirely my fault for jumping into this without more preparation.

“Shit, Chan,” I said, removing my finger while releasing a sigh. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have done this.”

I cleared my throat, feeling increasingly anxious when Chan refused to respond to my apology. He was still supporting himself on his hands in front of me, chest heaving up and down with each breath. I could see that the bright red tint to his ears betrayed his embarrassment and that only made me feel worse because the last thing I wanted to do was make this bad for him.

Eventually, Chan rolled off to the side of the bed, collecting his sweatpants from the floor before walking into the bathroom. I closed my eyes when the door slammed behind him, and I quietly left the bedroom to give Chan some privacy because it was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with the situation.

So much for my co-worker’s stupid suggestion.

However, in the grand scheme of things, I was always the first to recognize when my actions warranted reprimand.

After sleeping on the couch in the living room, I woke-up with a sore lower back and a guilty conscious. Chan had already left for work that morning, and he probably hadn’t paid me a single glance. But I probably deserved his wrath, which meant I would do everything that I could to make it up to him.

Consequently, I found myself flashing a bright smile at Chan’s office secretary who greeted me politely before calling Chan’s phone to see if he had some time to see me. There was a small part of me which worried that Chan might send me away because of last night’s events. Thankfully, his secretary waved me inside and I took a deep breath before opening the door while carrying the packed lunch I prepared for him.

Once inside, Chan offered me a cursory glance that only lasted a brief moment until his attention was once again focused on the file in front of him. “Channie,” I said, wincing at my shrill tone. “I brought you some lunch.”

I hesitated when Chan didn’t respond - walking over to his desk to carefully deposit the bag on his desk. I waited for a brief moment, but Chan refused to acknowledge me, which meant I needed to approach him more directly. “I’m sorry about last night, Channie,” I said, coming around his desk to perch myself on the edge. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m also sorry about the past few months because I’ve been so desperate to finally have my positive pregnancy test that I started to really neglect you.”

The pen Chan had been writing with stopped in the middle of whatever sentence he had been writing, and my husband finally allowed me the privilege of looking into his dark brown eyes. “It’s hard for me to stay mad at you, Y/N,” Chan said, and I nearly burst into tears at the simple declaration.

“You deserve to be mad at me,” I said. “I can’t believe you let me get away with acting like this. You should get the husband of the year award or whatever.”

Chan chuckled, tossing his pencil aside. “Sweetheart, I know how much this means to you, and I want it just as much, but maybe it would be nice if we could be intimate sometimes without worrying about whether or not we’re following all those advice columns you read.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, and I pushed myself away from the edge of the desk and fell onto my knees in front of him - reaching out to grab his thighs between my hands. “What if I blew you right here in the office?”

Chan’s answering moan was enough to solidify my resolve, and I easily worked apart the belt fastening around his suit pants. My fingers worked with an experienced touch because this wasn’t the first time we had done something like this in his big executive office and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Fuck, Y/N,” Chan said, grabbing large handfuls of my hair while directing my lips closer to his exposed cock-head.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” I said, offering a tentative lick to his pulsating tip. Chan was already hard, and I gave him a few strokes with my hand before allowing my mouth to take care of the rest - opening wide to take him as deep as I could without gagging.

“Look at you,” Chan snarled, and his fingers traced the seam of my lips stretched obscenely around his cock.

I moaned around his erection, and Chan closed his eyes as he fingers tightened their hold - hips moving every so often to force his cock even further down my throat. But I’m sure it made for one hell of a visual, and I hollowed my cheeks as I ran my tongue across the distinct vein trailing along the underside.

“Keep going,” Chan said, and I could tell that he was close. And I started bobbing my head up and down, mimicking the same effect of his cock fucking my pussy, relaxing my throat and encouraging Chan to do whatever he needed to push himself over the edge.

He eventually came with an exaggerated groan, and I wrinkled my nose at the taste of him. Yet, I knew better than to let anything go to waste, and I struggled around the rawness of my throat as I swallowed - swiping my tongue around the head of his spent cock to clean up the excess.

“Was it good?” I asked him with a hoarse voice.

“Of course it was,” Chan replied, encouraging me off the floor and into his lap. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as I listened to his heart slow back down to normal. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, teasing his lips across mine. “You’re not gonna freak out over the fact that we just wasted my perfectly good semen?”

I rolled my eyes before playfully hitting his shoulder. “It’s never a waste if it makes you come like that.”

He smiled, bringing out the fullness of his dimples, and we sat together while Chan ate his lunch and I mindlessly talked about the latest office gossip. It was moments like these that I loved more than anything about my marriage to Chan - pregnancy be damned. Ironically, it was only a few weeks later that I found myself looking down at a thin white strip with a blue cross displayed across the surface: positive.

#stayverse #skzsmutnetwork #skzwriternet #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan fanfic #chan fanfic #skz chan fanfic #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #skz fluff #skz reader insert

441 notes · View notes

mermaidssonshipss · 4 years

Text

ruin the friendship

another request! yeehaw! so i didn’t know if you wanted like an established relationship or not and i tend to not write established relationships (the pining and angst and hidden touches are always the best part once ur in a relationship it’s boring lmao) so i’m taking this and running with it but also putting my own twist on it but i really hope you enjoy it. it took me forever to write and i don’t know why i just. wanted it to... work? idk ANYWAYS! i hope you enjoy it yeehaw.

warnings: smut, obviously

pairings: rudy pankow x reader

word count: 3,082

At the age of 21, you were still a virgin, and the thought irritated you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had the chance, or that you’d never had a boyfriend, the truth was you were just scared. When you were 16, your older sister had come into your bedroom right after she lost her virginity, whining about how bad it hurt and how uncomfortable it was. She couldn’t even sit down. She’d went into detail and to be quite frank, you were traumatized. So, whenever the opportunity to have sex presented itself, you’d always back out, which lead to many of your breakups. You knew you were being silly about it, but you just never felt like the guys you were with would care enough to take your feelings into consideration and make sure you were comfortable. You’d dated nothing but assholes who only wanted you for your body, and finding out you were a virgin never turned them off, it only made you a challenge, and when they realized they weren’t going to concur you, they dropped you.

Currently you were sat on Rudy’s couch, the both of you arguing over whether he should shave his mustache or not. You were highly against the hideous thing, arguing that it looked like he had a caterpillar above his lip, and he argued that the caterpillar was his friend.

“Question. Have you kissed a girl since you’ve had that thing on your face? Honest answers only,” you pressed, though you knew the answer already. He opened his mouth to reply, but fell short, his back falling into the couch as he glared at you.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.”

He huffed out at that, crossing his arms and turning his face back towards the TV. You got up, making your way into his bathroom and coming back out holding shaving cream and his razor.

“Shave it. Now.”

“You shave it if you want it gone so bad,” he replied, raising his eyebrows, challenging you.

“I literally will, Rudy. I’ve been shaving since I was like.. 13. I’m not afraid to use a razor,” you quipped back, and he threw his head back, letting out a groan before he pushed himself off the couch and snatched the items from you, making his way to the bathroom as he shot a glare at you over his shoulder.

You settled back down on the couch, grabbing your phone. A couple of texts from your best friend, Han, popped up, and your cheeks turned red as you read the contents.

Han: dude... did you see Jake’s tweets?

Han: he’s literally subtweeting the fuck out of you.

You quickly opened the twitter app on your phone and went to his account, your heart dropping. The past several tweets were about how he was tired of being led on by “prudes,” how his last ex (you) thought she was too good for anyone, and finally, he ended it with “never date a virgin, dudes. they’re the worst.” You were hurt, but you weren’t really surprised. He’d broken up with you two days ago after he’d tried to pressure you into having sex with him again, and you’d held your ground, saying you weren’t ready. He’d stormed out of your apartment, screaming that you were over.

A tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away as Rudy entered the room, now sporting a clean-shaven face. You tossed your phone to the side as you looked up at him, throwing a smile on your face at the sight, but it was clear to him you were upset.

“What happened?” He asked, sitting down next to you and you shook your head, giving him a shrug.

“Nothing. Jake being a dick. It’s whatever.” You’d never really discussed your sex-life with Rudy. It wasn’t that you weren’t comfortable with him, to be honest you were more comfortable with him than you’d ever been with anyone, it just never came up. He’d assumed you weren’t a virgin due to your boyfriends, and you never told him why things actually ended.

“What’d he do?” He looked angry, and you smiled at him softy; it was cute how much he cared.

“Just some stupid tweets,” you replied, not expecting him to grab his phone and go onto Jake’s profile.

“What’s his fucking problem? Why is he calling you a prude? You’re not a virgin?” His tone was questioning, realizing that you two had never really talked about the topic.

“I am a virgin,” you responded simply, scrunching your nose up slightly as you looked at him. He was silent for a moment, his mouth opening into a silent O.

“Close your mouth, Pankow. You’ll eat a fly,” you laughed and he quickly snapped his mouth shut before placing his phone next to yours.

“If you don’t mind me asking... why?” he was genuinely curious, his eyes watching you closely. At this question, your cheeks heated up. You weren’t ashamed that you were a virgin, but you were definitely embarrassed about the why. Without letting yourself overthink it, you launched into the story about your sister and how scared it had left you.

“I know it’s stupid,” you groaned, your hands covering your heated cheeks, “but seriously... the way she talked about it... like I’m fully expecting it to feel like I’m being ripped in half and I’m not okay with that! If I could find the right guy maybe I’d think about it but everyone I date is a fucking asshole that only cares about getting themselves off, and not my precious vagina. Like I don’t need to be in love with the dude I just need to know he’s gonna take his time and not hurt me!” your cheeks were absolutely flaming at this point, your fingers running through your hair as you tugged on it. Rudy was laughing next to you as you rambled, his eyes closing as tears leaked down his cheeks from how hard he was laughing. “Stop laughing!” You shouted, but you yourself were also laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, trying to calm down, “Like it’s not funny I get it but the way you talked about it is hilarious,” his laughing had calmed down now, and he sent you a sincere smile, “I’ve definitely heard it hurts for a girl though, but like you said, you just need to find someone who’s gonna be careful with you. Someone you trust and are comfortable with.”

“Rudy. Men suck. You’re the only man I trust with my life,” you dead panned, and he raised an eyebrow at you. He was quiet for a moment, and you could see the wheels turning in his head before he finally spoke up.

“Let me take your virginity.” He was confident as he spoke the words and you sucked in a breath, not expecting that to come out of his mouth.

“Rudy...”

“Hear me out,” he sat up straighter now, his entire body facing you, “We’ve been friends for how long? Like 10 years now, right? I know you better than anyone else, and vice-versa. You also just said you trust me, and are comfortable with me. I’ll admit I’ve never been with a virgin before and I don’t want you to think this is me trying to check something off a checklist or whatever, but I care about you and your feelings in general, so of course I’d care about that in bed. I’ll be gentle. I’ll listen to you and what you want and make sure you’re as comfortable as you possibly can be.”

You thought about it for a moment, weighing his words around the corners of your brain, before deciding that he had a point.

“Okay. But it absolutely cannot ruin our friendship.” He nodded his head in agreement, running his fingers through his hair as it flopped into his eyes.

“Absolutely. I don’t think anything can ruin our friendship at this point, anyway,” he was smiling softly at you as he spoke, and you knew you should feel nervous under his gaze, but you were comfortable. This was Rudy, your best friend, and you trusted him with the world.

The two of you were silent for a moment, letting the reality of the situation sink in, before Rudy stood up and held his hand out for you.

“If you’re sure you want this, I’m gonna wager losing your virginity in my comfy bed is much better than on my couch,” he smirked at you, and you rolled your eyes, but slipped your hand in his anyway. He tugged you up gently and lead the both of you to his bedroom, shutting the door gently after you had fully entered.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” his voice was a whisper as he stepped closer to you, his hand resting on your cheek softly as his other hand landed on your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. You simply nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment.

His lips were on yours moments later, all of the nerves in your body melting away as the two of you moved in-sync. For the first time in a very long time, you felt butterflies exploding in your stomach from a simple kiss, and you wound your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. Your shirt was currently being bunched up under your ribs, his hands moving it up slowly as his fingertips trailed against your warm skin. He broke the kiss for only a moment, pulling your shirt off and tossing it onto the floor before his lips were attaching to yours once again, this time the kiss much more passionate. The two of you were stumbling slightly as he pushed you over to his bed, a few soft laughs being exchanged as he almost tripped over a pair of his sneakers.

“Remind me to clean up this mess,” he mumbled against your lips, and you could feel a smile on them as he hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he crawled onto the bed and gently placed you down, your head resting on his pillow.

His eyes were drinking you in as he hovered above you, and you silently thanked yourself for putting on your favorite red lace bra that morning as his pupils widened at the sight.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear him, so you just smiled up at him before your fingers began fiddling with his shirt, tugging at it to signal you wanted it off. He was quick to pull it off and toss it across the room.

“Don’t forget to clean that up later,” you smirked, and he glared at you, but you could see he was holding in a smile.

“Can I?” his hand had slipped underneath you, his fingers resting on the clasp of your bra, waiting for your answer.

“Rudy, we’re about to have sex. Which I already agreed to. You’re allowed to undress me.” You could see his cheeks turn red as you spoke, but he rolled his eyes at you and quickly unclasped the bra before sliding the straps down your arms slowly, removing it fully. For a moment, you were tempted to cover yourself, but something about the way Rudy was looking down at you, his eyes scanning from your chest to your eyes, stopped you.

Soon his lips were back on yours, both of you fighting for dominance as he tugged at your shorts, pulling them down your legs and kicking them off the bed. His hand wrapped around your thigh, pushing your legs apart as he trailed feather light touches up the soft skin, goosebumps erupting across your body. His lips were moving down your neck and to your chest now, softly sucking the skin as your fingers flew to his hair, tangling them into his blonde locks.

Without warning, he slipped his large hand under the fabric of your panties and cupped your mound roughly, causing you to let out a sinful moan. You could feel him smirk against your chest as his thumb rubbed against your clit, drawing figure eights on the already throbbing bud. If you weren’t wet before, you definitely were now.

“Just gotta get you ready.” he whispered against your skin, his lips wrapping around your nipple as he let his teeth graze the sensitive peak, causing you to gasp and tug at his hair, which awarded you a groan from Rudy. You would gladly let him get you ready at any moment if it felt like this.

His finger teased your entrance, gathering up the wetness that pooled around the hole before slipping in easily, reaching places your own had never reached before. He was quick to slip a second finger in when he realized how wet you were, and he bit down on your nipple a bit too hard as he heard you moan out his name. It sounded sinful, and he wanted to hear you chant it for hours. As you writhed underneath him with each pump of his fingers, he was tempted to make you cum like this, intrigued to see you coming undone just from his fingers, but he didn’t want to overwhelm you, not this time, at least. When he could feel you clenching around his fingers, your whimpers growing louder, he pulled away, causing you to gasp out in displeasure.

“M’not done, princess,” he assured you, rolling next to you on the bed as he quickly pulled his pants and boxers down in one go. He was painfully hard, his cock slapping up against his abdomen the second it was free, and he let out a hiss as the cold air hit it. Quickly he threw his bedside table drawer open, feeling around it for a moment before his fingers finally latched onto a condom and he let out a sigh of relief. It’d been a while since he’d sex, to be honest, and he wasn’t sure if he had any condoms around.

“Hurry up,” you breathed impatiently, your hand slipping down as you began to rub your own clit, and Rudy thought he was going to explode at the sight.

“Jesus christ,” Escaped from his clenched teeth, and he was quick to move himself back on top of you, ripping the condom package open with his teeth before rolling it down his length, a painful moan escaping at the friction. He slapped your hand away, positioning the head of his cock against your entrance for a moment before dragging it between your folds, collecting your wetness on the condom.

“Please,” you whimpered quietly, causing Rudy to bite his lip. He had pictured you underneath him many times, but he had never pictured you begging him to take your virginity.

Slowly, he pushed inside of you, watching as your head pushed back into the pillow, your mouth falling open silently. It stung, but he was so gentle and so slow, giving you time to adjust as he very slowly pushed his entirety into you, finally bottoming out, you barely felt the discomfort.

Your hands wrapped around his back, your fingernails digging into his tan skin, and you whispered quietly into his ear, giving him permission to move. His body was resting down on yours gently, his own arms between your body and the bed, clutching onto you as he began to move his hips, dragging his cock against your tight walls as slow as he could force himself to go. His continuous moans mixed with yours, both of your names rolling off one another's tongues in ecstasy. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his ass slightly as you pushed him deeper into you, your body consumed with pleasure. His lips found yours again, but this kiss felt different. His lips were rough against yours, but there was a passion behind it that he had been holding back, feelings that had been hidden for years pouring between the two of you as he finally decided to give in to them.

He could tell you were close, your walls clenching around his cock, causing his hips to stutter at the feeling. His hand slipped between the two of you, finding the button that would let you release around him, and he began to circle his fingers around it quickly, the pressure of his fingers varying.

“Let go, pretty girl,” he whispered into your ear as he finally pulled his lips away from yours, soon resting them on your shoulder, his teeth sinking into the skin as you exploded around him, yelling his name out as your fingernails dug even deeper into his skin, leaving scratches behind. You’d gotten yourself off many times before, but it had never felt like this. You’d never felt this full, his cock deliciously scraping against your walls. He continued to pound into you, relishing in your whimpers before he too was coming undone into the condom, riding out his high until there was nothing left.

His body collapsed onto the bed next to you, sweaty and sticking to the sheets as he pulled the condom off and tied it up, tossing it into the bin next to his bed. You were absolutely blissed out, a soft smile on your lips, and Rudy pushed himself onto his side, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him, his fingertips trailing up and down your side.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” his words were genuine as he looked down at you, his eyes full of adoration and what you think looked like love.

“I’m... wonderful,” you decided on, your own hand reaching up and tracing along his jawline, “It stung a bit in the beginning but after that it was... jesus I can’t believe I haven’t done that before,” you laughed, and Rudy laughed with you quietly, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on your lips for a moment before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours, his eyes staring into yours, “think it only felt that way because it was with you though,” you admitted, your voice small as you spoke, and Rudy once again pecked your lips. He had decided kissing you was one of his favorite activities.

“I think... we just ruined the friendship,” he admitted, but he was smiling against your lips, and you knew what he meant.

“I think I agree.”

#rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank x reader

489 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

I Love You, Where Are You Going?

Summary: Y’all already know what it is. Episode 15 continued through my dirty pervert mind. For @truccieeboo and @emanmc24 who always support me and wanted some desk fun. Ko Mun-yeong and Moon Gang-tae having fun on a table, that’s all.

Author’s note: I am tipsy and that ending made my brain (and vagina) explode, excuse any typos or grammatical errors its just because I’m fucked up in every sense of the word.

I love you. I love you so much. I love you Ko Mun-yeong.

How dare he say those words to her now when she was trying to do the right thing? She had been selfish her whole life and the one time she was attempting to be selfless, he was making her regret it every step of the way. How long had she yearned to hear those words, never expecting they would mirror her own ill-advised love confession so long ago.

She had been so stupid back then with no clue about what love was, spewing out whatever she thought would get a reaction out of him. Whatever would make him stay because he was the only person who ever came to save her, despite her darkness and lack of empathy he followed her everywhere she went and wanted to be with her. He was such a fool, had been since he was boy.

Why couldn’t he just leave? She was giving him an out, absolving him from his meaningless guilt, who could fault him for not wanting to be with the daughter of the monster that murdered his mother? That monstrous blood was flowing through her veins as well, she had tried her damnest but she couldn’t escape her mother’s curse. Their relationship was ill-fated, not destiny. She was a fairy tale writer and she hadn’t been able to predict her own ending, how ironically pathetic.

She twirled the dead flowers in her hand, trying not to think about him. It was futile he was all that filled her head, the desperation in his voice as he declared his love for her. She hadn’t been expecting it, not in the slightest, why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Hadn’t he called her a one-time event, why did he keep coming back for an encore of the world’s saddest show? Maybe Jae-su was right and he was a psychopath, at the moment she couldn’t argue against the point.

The loud bang of the door crashing open violently pulls her from her thoughts, and she hears stomps nearing her. With a sigh, she hides the flowers, not wanting to give him the wrong impression; he needs to leave and take Sang-tae with him. This has gone on for too long.

“Mun-yeong.” His deep voice echoes in the spacious room as he rounds the corner to find her at her standing near the table.

Gang-tae prowls towards her, determination in his eyes, unnerving her to her core. “I love you. Why are you running? What’s wrong?”

Anger pools in the pit of her stomach as she cuts her eye to look at him, who is he to offer his love now? She can’t have it now, her mother has poisoned their seed of love and anything that blooms now will be deadly, grotesque and ugly. She rises and presses past him, hoping to escape to her room and regroup his resilience had not been expected, he was supposed to leave quietly and without a fight, where was her repressed Moon Gang-tae? He chose the worst moment to unpin himself and unleash on her like a hurricane.

His tight grip on her arm both shocks her and stops her in her tracks, with wide eyes she gasps at him, “If you tell me you love me one more time I’ll--” With a snap of her jaw she cuts herself off, not quite knowing how to complete that sentence. What would she do to him? Pushing him away was proving futile and he was hammering at the walls she was building back around her heart.

“You’ll do what? Do this?” He retorts defiance ample on his tongue, before his fingers tighten on her arms and he leans up and steals a kiss. Nothing more than a peck but her reaction is instant, her body heats as her heart races, pumping blood to her cheeks and...other regions. While she is dazed by the spontaneous kiss, he further surprises her by bending suddenly and lifting her into his arms, all the air in her lungs is vacuumed out as he places on her on the table. Her eyes search his own in question and reprimand, what was he doing? Why wasn’t he leaving dammit!

Before she can question his actions, he tilts forward, his eyes fixated on her lips. With a gasp, she jolts back, backing away from his hungry seeking mouth, but he is not deterred as he presses forward further forcing her back onto her arms to escape his kiss. She retreats until her back hits something solid, the table, she has nowhere else to go, he has her cornered. With all her strength she shoves at his shoulders, his eyes never leave her mouth, his body is barely rocked from her push. Like a mouse hitting an elephant.

Swiftly he climbs onto the table, hovering over her body and snatches her arms, firmly placing them above her head. His body is unbelievably hot above hers, heat radiating off and burning her skin, she pants from the heat.

“Why are you fighting me? You don’t want this?” His voice is slightly condescending as if he has no belief that the answer is no. Arrogant bastard.

“No. I don’t, get off me. I told you to leave. Get lost!” Her scream reverberates off the walls, but his face is unchanging, as if he did not hear her declaration at all. As if, she had said nothing at all, he smiles at her warmly, sighing fondly before whispering onto her face, “Liar.”

She tense under his weight, her wrist warm clasped in his snug hold, he continues on leaning into her space until each word lands with a puff of moist air on her reddened skin, “You want this. You’ve always wanted this, why are you fighting it now that I’m giving it to you? Take it. Let me take you.”

Her body responds to his suggestive words, images of that kiss infiltrate her mind, she thought that was the extent of his passion, never anticipated that he would be like this? He usually become flustered from small pecks and the brush of her hands, how could this be the same Moon Gang-tae? Her wonder must have reflected on her face because he answered, “You look surprised, did you think I didn’t want it too?” He scoffs, “I want you all the time. I’ve thought about taking you in every room of this castle. I never answered your question that day, yes Mun-yeong, I want to sleep with you. I want to sleep with you so badly.”

Involuntarily she feels herself become moist, his words setting her body ablaze and with renewed strength and adrenaline she pushes him again, harder, satisfaction bubbling when he falls off the table, but her victory is short-lived as he snatches her again, slamming her wrists back onto the table with more force than before, too formidable for her to move even in the slightest. With fear lacing her voice she demands, “Stop! Let go of me, I told you to stop!” Angry tears filling her eyes, he’s saying everything she has wanted to hear and its destroying her defenses, she has to get away.

His lips smash into her own as she tightly presses them together, forbidding his tongue from entering her mouth, her last defense. He swipes at her lips harder, unrelenting in his pursuit to devour her, but she is steadfast thrashing in his arms violently and eventually he pulls back with a final lick across the expanse of her mouth. The hunger in his eyes is palpable and smothering her.

“Coward.”

The word stops her in her tracks, she peers up at him baffled at his audacity, letting him go was the bravest thing she has ever done, how dare he minimize it? Wasn’t he the one who had spewed out that crap saying if you loved someone enough you had to let them go, was that reserved for good people? Why was she not allowed?

“How dare you--”

His tongue cuts off the rest of her statement, as he uses the opportunity to thrust his way into her mouth, tongue sliding against her own, swallowing her complains as he presses her into the table.

She loses herself momentarily in his taste, his tongue wrecking havoc on her slack mouth, as he invades her, brutal in his conquest, leaving nothing in his wake. Licking and sucking until her mouth feels tender and raw from the attention, finally she snaps out out of her trance and bites down on his slithering tongue, he jolts back with a cry, hands freeing her wrist to cover his mouth.

“Get off me, Sang-tae will be here soon and..”

“Shut up.”

What. “What?”

“You heard me. Shut. Up. I don’t want to hear about anyone or anything else. I love you and I know you love me. A kiss is better than a fight and this” He boldly grinds into her pelvis, making her quiver, “This is the best of them all.”

Without a moments notice, he rapidly begins to unbutton his own shirt, fingers flying down the straight row of tiny buttons. She feels lightheaded, thankful for the stability of the table underneath her, her knees buckle as she watches him. He flings the shirt on the ground revealing the pale glow of his skin, muscles flexing at the motion, his abs tantalizingly on display as she feels the arid desert that her mouth has become.

“I remember the first time you saw me shirtless. You couldn’t keep your hands off me, what’s stopping you now? Do I need to pretend I don’t want it?” He smirks from his spot above her and her face flushes at the memory, it seems like a lifetime ago. “I wanted you then too, you are the prettiest thing I've ever been offered. I’m never letting you go, Ko Mun-yeong. We are meant to be together.”

Tears prickle in her eyes at his words, she wills them not to fall. He grabs her hands once more, she tries to resist but her trembling hands are no match for his firm grip, slowly he brings her hand to his body, pressing her palms into his skin, letting out a guttural moan at the sensation.

She tells herself to pull away, push him again, run away, anything but her body ignores her pleas remaining under his spell as he leans forward, pulling the pin securing her hair up out from its hold, purring in satisfaction as her hair falls in loose waves around her face. Tendrils tickle her cheeks as he lovingly pushes her hair back, stroking her head before his fingers tighten and she winces at the unexpected constraint.

“Let’s be brave together, huh?” With those last words he lunges at her mouth, devouring her fruitless protest, using his grip on her hair to bring her face ever closer as he laps at her mouth, pushing and pushing until he breaks through the seal and tastes her paradise, he moans into her mouth, the vibration tingling on her lips.

The intensity of each kiss never falters as he delights in his acquisition of her, messing her hair up with a firm hand, tugging at her dress, before palming her breasts through the tight-fitting material. He roughly maneuvers his hands around the full mounds, twisting them as he pants, “This dress, you shouldn’t wear this dress again. It looks uncomfortable and I want to punch everyone who looks at you in it.”

She can’t stop the moans that slip out at his demand and his nimble hands wrecking his body, She feels him groping at her back, looking for the zipper and knows that he won’t find one, at least not there there is a hidden zipper inside the dress that must be carefully handled as this dress is vintage and one of a kin--

Krrrrrrrrrrrrr

She flounders on the table taken aback by the sound, unaware of what that sound could possibly be until she feels a cool breeze on her back. Her dress. He was ripping her dress.

He was ripping her one of a kind vintage dress.

“Are you insane?! What are you doing? Stop ripping my dress, are you an animal?” She shrieks at him, red consuming her face from anger and...arousal. She couldn’t deny it, seeing this side of him was invigorating as it was terrifying. But she would never let him know that, he was already too big for his breeches.

As coy as he looked teasing her with that fucking ribbon, he innocently gazes down at her before apologetically replying, “My hand slipped, I couldn’t find the zipper. I’ll buy you a new dress, one that didn’t look uncomfortable.” With that quip, he shreds the dress down the center, peeling it like a banana from her sweltering skin. She is unable to subdue the whimper that falls from her lips and a knowing smirks swells on his face, fuck fuck fuck.

Contemptuously, he flings the ripped material on the floor, leaving her in her underwear and boots, his eyes running obscenely up and down her body, he fingers at the lace that encases her most private areas. Matching red set bright against her skin, his eyes trail down to her boots, darkening before leisurely strolling back up and landing on her face. She is sin personified, tempting him and today he’s ready to repent, she will be his salvation.

He crawls back onto her body like a wild cat, pouncing, ready to devour its prey. Within seconds, he drags his finger from her moist center to the valley of her breasts, intent clear in his eyes. She stares back, attempting to muster up some strength but she knows the fight is lost, she can no longer resist him. Her body uncoils in acquiesce and that is the only permission he needs before, sliding her bra out of the way and swallowing her hard nipple. His teeth are unforgiving at his gnaws at her like she is truly a meal to be eaten at the table, his hand kneads the breast not in his mouth, she squirms and pants beneath him, pleasure percolating under her skin.

“Moon Gang-tae!” She moans at a brutal bite at her breast, before his tongue slithers out to sooth the pain. He releases her nipple with an audible pop before meandering to her neck, sucking at the delicate skin, unforgiving in his pursuit, his hands still roughly palming at her heaving chest. Through the rush of blood to her head, she hears him panting out, “You’re going to look even prettier with my marks. Everyone will see them.”

That doesn’t make her preen, at all. She is unaffected. Completely.

After sucking at her neck until she feels like her skin might rip just like her dress, he draws away to survey his masterpiece, his broad shoulders even broader with the wave of pride that wafts off him. Making her head spin again he snatches her off the table, pulling her up until she’s sitting as he distracts her with wild kisses. Then she feels his fingers at the clasp of her bra, he struggles momentarily and she fears she’ll be losing a bra today as well, but he figures it out unhooking it and prying it from her body. Pressing into her with his equally naked chest, he presses her back onto the table, bra carelessly discarded.

His fingers run along the side of her body, teasing her as he continues to lick at her tongue, allowing her no reprieve from his onslaught. Seductively he begins to rub his rigid cock into her, thrusting into her, groaning at the pleasure. His hands latch onto her hips, controlling her movement, forcing her to grind into him as he chases his pleasure. His harsh breaths land on her face as her eyes devour the sight of Moon Gang-tae lost in passion, it’s beautiful. if she were an artist she would draw it and capture it forever.

Despite her tender inklings, he is not gentle as he draws away from her, grabbing the thin cloth of her panties, burning eyes locked on the flower they are protecting, before peeling them off her skin, she feels a blush form on her cheeks, disbelief that this is happening to her, Moon Gang-tae is seducing her.

“Beautiful.” He sighs, eagerly lowering his face until he is level with her face, locking eyes with her as they have a silent conversation.

I love you.

I want you.

I will protect you.

Let me keep you.

Eyes never leaving hers, he pokes his tongue out licking down her body, swirling around her breasts, meandering down her soft belly, lapping at slight swell of hip before settling at her entrance, hot breaths landing on where she aches the most. She moans in anticipation but when she forces her eyes open- when had she closed them?- she finds his nonplussed face, peacefully staring back at her, as his fingers stroke her sides.

She looks at him.

He looks at her.

She huffs in annoyance.

He smirks cockily.

“Beg for it.”

Her body spasms at his calm request. She defiantly glares at him, “In your dreams.”

With a dark chuckle he answers, “Already happens there, I want it in reality now.”

She moves to slide off the table, but then her legs are snatched and he glides them open, his mouth following suit as he places her on display, moist pink lips opened and glistening. With another bout of careless strength, he drags her legs over his shoulder, so his face is directly in her pussy, his every breath landing inside her. She shivers at the sensation, twitching in his hands. Control slipping away.

He licks his lips like he is preparing for a big meal. Her knuckles are white from her death grip on the table.

“Beg. For. It. I want to give it to you Mun-yeong, just ask nicely. Be a good girl, huh?”

His words wash over her in sensual waves, be a good girl. She hates it but she wants to be his good girl, to feel his huge hand cup her head as he praises her and makes her feel invincible. Drenched now from his words.

Swallowing to bring moisture back to her mouth, she uses the last reserve of air in her lungs to obey his command, “Please Gang-tae, please.”

His eyes light up in excitement as he caresses her naked body, “Such a good girl.” He praises her caressing her downy skin and then he plunges into her, slurping up her juices, the sounds obscene in the bitter quiet of the room.

Using broad strokes of his tongue, he swipes at her clitoris, slamming her hips back onto the table when she jerks viciously from the pleasure. She whimpers at his manhandling, overwhelmed as he eats her with reckless abandon. She wraps her legs around his face, desperate for his touch and he moans in approval, lapping at her sweetness, hungry for more.

His tongue is sin itself as it moves inside her, soft and then hard, gentle and then hard. His inconsistency leaves on feeling on edge, each time she edges to the end, he stops and teases her with kitten licks, devious glances informing her that this is intentional. He wants to wreck her and leave her boneless on the table.

She grabs his head, “Please, please, I need more.” And those words are all it takes, he presses in with all his might, scraping every ounce of pleasure and joy from her body, gently biting at her clitoris until she sees stars, the moon, the entire fucking galaxy.

When she thinks she’s going to burst from the euphoria, he presses two long fingers into her, as his tongue plays with the swollen bud. His fingers are unforgiving in their plunder, pressing deep into her hole while his tongue moves rapidly against her, the dueling sensations dragging her closer and closer to the edge, before she feels herself falling, spiraling into the abyss.

She screams her release, “Moon Gang-tae!!”

He doesn’t stop immediately, riding her body as she convulses on the table, weakly trying to push his head away, wrung out and teetering into too much. He ignores her pushes until he is good and ready.

She collapses on the table, body sprawled in all directions as she recovers from her climax, sweat pooling on her skin, her breaths gradually returning to normal.

When she finally opens her eyes once more, his gaze is devastating, too many emotions swirling in his expressive eyes.

“Amazing.”

She blushes in response, his eyes heavy on her skin, her eyes fleeting around unable to remain on his face, sudden shyness overcoming her.

After a deep breath, she begins to sit up, pressing him away, body weak and lethargic after the intensity of her release, but his dark eyes land on her face and she ceases to move.

“Where are you going?”

She tilts her head in confusion, shouldn't it be obvious?

“You think we’re done? That I’m finished with you? That was just the beginning...the appetizer. We’re just getting started.”

With a devious smile, he promptly grabs her hips and flips her over, then slides off the table to drag her body to the end until her legs are dangling off the table with her ass hoisted in the air. He strokes the soft plumpness of her ass, before grinding his body onto her naked skin. His dress pants are smooth on her skin and the sensation drags a moan from her lips. Then she hears the obvious sounds of him undressing, looking back over her shoulder, she watches as he drags the zipper down, unbuttons the pants and they fall to the ground, with a hard look at her, he steps out of his boxers, leaving him naked and gorgeous.

His heavy erections hands ominously between his trunk like legs, engorged and angry-red, resembling a missile waiting to explode. She gulps as she observes the way it twitches in his hands, she almost misses the next words he lets out from her fascination with his cock, “Next time I want you on your knees for me but I can’t wait any longer right now. Not being in you is driving me insane.”

Her breath hitches from his promise, the look on his face lets her know that it is a promise, images of her on her knees with her mouth open flood her mind, his bitter taste on her tongue as she sucks him deep, his hand on her head as he calls her his good girl and surges in her hungry mouth. It is enough to make her faint.

With a sharp smack on her ass, he drags her from her erotic fantasy, “ You look lost in thought, I don’t want to be jealous of myself so pay attention to me.”

Roughly grabbing her, he presses into her, sliding between the tight seal of her thighs, brushing against her pussy but drawing back before he can enter her, he teases her continually until her head starts to swim, she will die if he doesn’t fuck her soon. She tries to press back but his iron grip stops her until she finally glares back with questioned filled eyes. He gazes back at her once again, calm as if his dick isn't hard as a rock right now, as if he doesn’t want to just ram into her and fuck her until the table breaks.

“What are you waiting for?” She bites out, distraught from the lack of sex that is occurring.

He simply raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Beg for it.

He is thrusting into her with steady movement, eyes locked on her face as he smears his precum on her thighs, making her feel filthy. She decides she has done enough begging today, those pleas would sound delicious on his lips too. With a fluid motion, she rolls onto the tips of her toes, thankful for her years of ballet, the stretch unnoticeable on her strong legs, arching her back until her ass is high in the air. With his eyes locked on her face in surprise, she brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them until they are soaked in her saliva.

She trails them down her own body before she reaches her destination, her wet center, opening her lips and pressing her wet fingers in, body sinuously twisting at the feel of her hands on herself. Gang-tae’s jaw drops from the sensual show, lost in her fingers and their fluctuation. Playing with herself, she rubs against her walls, legs shaking at her own ministrations. He watches her, dazed and amazed, his cock hardening at the erotic sight that he will lock away for those lonely nights. The thin thread of control he had remaining snapping under pressure.

Her hands are ruthlessly yanked away, “You win. I need you, please.”

Victory comes in the form of his hot cock piercing through her moist opening, taking up all the space until the pressure is enough to knock her on her stomach, his thrust is measured and unplumbed, taking his sweet time. Until he is fully stuffed inside her, she whines at the slight discomfort, breath racing now. For a few seconds, there is nothing but quiet and stillness.

Then he is moving, and it feels like being in the eye of a storm. Tumultuous, destructive and beautifully catastrophic. He plunges into her, hips smacking against her ass, her body slamming into the table with every brutal thrust. Her fingers scratch across the sheets covering the table, her moans are deafening to her own ears but Gang-tae can be heard loud and clear regardless, “I will never leave you, we were meant to be. Look how perfectly we fit!”

Her head is dizzy as he places a hand on her back, molding her into the table as he rides her hard, cock dragging on her sensitive walls, unrelenting crashes into her hot tight body.

His hands slide into her hair as he pulls at the strands, tears collect her in eyes from the pain but she presses into his harsh touch, eager and wanting. He yanks her hair as he rams into her body, over and over and over again. Deeper in her body than anything has ever been, drool spills from her mouth pooling and soaking into the fabric.

As her body coils in pleasure, she feels his fingers at her core, searching until they find her overly sensitive bud, with a flick of his wrist she is falling again, thunderous crash, caught between his brutal grip on her hair, his crushing press on her clit and his vicious piston into her overstimulated body.

“Moon Gang-tae! Moon Gang-tae!”

Her second climax is as gratifying as the first, if not more. Her toes curl as her walls milk him, tightening around his cock until she feels the gush of him releasing into her,searing thick streams filling her up. He grunts out her name in response, “Ko Mun-yeong.” Before collapsing onto her back, their sweat laden bodies sticking together.

Slowly, their breaths synchronize and then she watches his beautiful arms tense as he uses them to propel himself off her. He doesn’t go far before taking her hips in a gentle hold and turning her over, his eyes glossy with over-bounding emotions, the biggest one love.

It is clear as day on his face. He loves her.

He wraps her in his arms, lifting her once again before turning to the stairs and carrying her in his bride’s hold. She feels delicate and precious in his arms.

“I love you Ko Mun-yeong.”

She sighs, damn him. She was finally trying to be a good person, but if he wants her to be selfish, she can do that. She will selfishly hold on to him forever.

“I tried to do the right thing, remember that okay? I tried to let you go.”

He smiles at her, the smile is identical to the picture Sang-tae drew that she has hidden in a drawer in her room, eyes crinkled and joy emitting from his very pores. She is helpless at the sight of it and with a defeated sigh she replies, “I love you too......You idiot.”

His chuckle rocks her body as he carries her up the stairs, before she freezes in fear, “Wait where is Oppa? He’s not here right.” She hastily looks around.

“Don’t worry he’s not here. I told him we needed time to make up, he said it was fine because a kiss is better than a fight. We kissed a lot so he’ll be happy.” He dodges her hand as she goes to smack his head.

She really is stuck with this guy forever.

Maybe they are destiny after all.

#its okay to not be okay fic #its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #ko mun yeong #moon gang tae #How dare they end the episode like that #like I said they better pick right tf up where they left off #we deserve a kiss at least #smutty smut smut #kinky shit #my brain is a dark place #I'm a perv

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aggresivelyfriendly · 3 years

Text

The Future is What?

Hi all! So my imagination is big, and this was a flapping cape to its bull! Enjoy, or don’t, no judgement!

I owe it all to @dirtystyles

"Did I get it?" He feels like it should be rather obvious, but they've been at this, off and on, for most of the day.

Well, not this particular pursuit, but the pursuit of pleasure, his and hers, since he woke up hard and she woke up willing.

So she's very wet and swollen and sensitive too. The deluge had come and gone and come again, it's fair to say.

She smiled, but that wasn't an answer. Her eyes were hazy and she looked just as fucked out as him. But he really wanted to know, couldn't help but ask, both times.

It had started as pillow talk. "You remember that shirt you wore, like early on?"

She'd worn a lot of shirts, she can't stop herself when it comes to a clever tee, so she just raised a sweaty brow at him from where she is lying on his right laurel.

"You know the one." He nudged her with his hip. And he knew he was blushing and she knew he was blushing and she tried to think of red cheek inducing shirts? But then she started thinking how her lower cheeks were probably red from the friendly slaps he'd given her when their morning side lying fuck had turned into full on doggie. God bless younger men.

"I have a lot of cheeky shirts?" She shrugs, it jostles his balls.

"Heeeey, careful!" He warns but he's smiling and his dimples and eye crinkles are almost meeting so she climbs up to kiss him and lay on his shoulder.

"No, really, just tell me what shirt?"

She can't believe he's embarrassed. They've been dancing around for a month, and had been moved on to the horizontal mambo with glee weeks ago.

It had started innocently enough. Around Thanksgiving, she was texting the group chat how she hated that her kiddos were away and she was alone on the actual day. She'd used some crying emojis- it was dramatic, but she was in the right field for that. There had been a smattering or sympathetic responses, Harry had sent a thumbs down. Then with barely a moments pause he'd texted, "Wanna come over? I'm cooking way too much!" To only her.

"Why? You're not even American?" Had been her response. The shrug emoji made her smile. He was kinda weird, and cute, no, hot. So hot, but cute.

She should know better, she might be accused of leading man-itis.

She couldn't deny she was kinda into him. I mean, he was a dreamboat and they decked him out to full wattage daily on set, but she was his boss and older and had kids and had just gotten out of relationship and, and, and. To all these reasons she had to say, "shut the fuck up!" to her own brain.

He could be just being nice. He was seriously the nicest man she'd ever met.

Or, what if it was a move? Did she want it to be a move? No? Yes? Yes...why couldn't she have nice things? She was a badass, and now a single mom who deserved but didn't require love.

And he was an adult. She'd make sure he knew the playing field and rules. That they'd have to share home court advantage, if they were even gonna play to have rematches in the future.

More than anything, the most compelling thing, was the way he made her smile. She appreciated thoughtfulness, and the way her remembered names, preferences, dietary restrictions and favorite flowers, it just melted her. She really thought she'd lost the ability to melt when her vagina died.

She supposed the impulsive adventurer inside never died, even when made shy by more than one bite.

Of course, she texted back, "Address?" Just to him.

And three hours later she'd had an incredible meal and two orgasms.

Then, even with her warning him off, and some wise voice reminding her she often fell too fast, they'd fallen into each other.

On Christmas Eve, when he'd found her crying that her kids didn't come home until morning, he'd pulled her downstairs to excitedly play Santa and then given her a beautiful Gucci outfit, asked her to be his date at his best friend's wedding, and told her if he had to be away from family for Christmas he could imagine no one better to be with.

She was already on his hook, but line and sinker were now also accomplished.

So much for rules and boundaries, and home court advantage definitely looked like her at his house overnight whenever hers was quiet, and driving his car too.

So, that he was so embarrassed now surprised her. They had dove deeply into one another, been bare emotionally as well, they'd rehashed her divorce and her almost marriage. Then his past, his band, his homesickness and his tattoos. She was amazed he felt self conscious, laying with her naked, whatever the topic of her conversation tees were.

"Just tell me the shirt, baby." She knew that melted him right back. He really loved all the couple things they were falling into, she could see it when he preened at small touches or glowed at pet names.

"Um, well." She can't help but laugh, he's so good at action, both at home and when she calls it on set, but he gets incredibly tongue tied with words. Probably why he did music, too. Easier to share thoughts to a page than person.

"Cmon!" She said against his mouth, "tell me..." she bit his lower lip.

"The one about the future." He waits for her to fill the rest in.

"The voting shirt I bought everybody?" That concerned the future.

"Um," he rolls his eyes, she assumes at himself. "The female ejaculation one."

"Oh!" Oh!! She had worn that one to set. It was when she was kinda starting to feel Harry. She wanted him to think of her cumming. She supposed it worked, though she was a tiny bit embarrassed at her brazenness. Most days she thought of it as her best trait. Maybe it was, it was working for her, clearly. "Yeah, what about it?" He was avoiding eye contact. She wanted him to look at her.

He finally did, and he gripped her hips proprietarily, like he needed to be reminded he could, that he had some entitlement to her for this conversation. "Can you?"

Could she? Could she what? Oh, OH! "Um, I have. But it's not like commonplace." She traced his eyebrows and perched on his hips. That was doing fun things to him. "Have you ever?"

He nodded. "But just once, and I'm not sure how I did it. I'd like to learn to master it." He gave her a smug look, well as smug as he could look blushing. The sex flush and sweat helped.

"Oh, you'd like to master it, huh?" She tickled him a little and he squirmed and they giggled together. "How long do you suppose that could take? I've got all day!" She was joking.

"I've got years!" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Years? With them? Why was that compelling? this was a fling. But so was her first marriage, she supposed. A lovely life changing short lived thing that turned into years.

The butterflies in her belly were familiar, from that lifetime ago.

"Alright." She crawled up and over his face. "Let's see that diligence, Styles."

He's really good at this, and they both seemed to like when she's in charge. That's working for them when she's in her director's chair or using his face as a seat.

That one was too easy. She came, but not like he was hoping for.

His long fingers played her next, and she thinks they may have nearly had it.

After that, he was too pent to just let that erection go to waste. That one may have been a wasted opportunity, if they had added some vibes or she had got her fingers down there they may have got it. Also, if Harry had been able to hold off longer.

"Sorry!" He'd breathed into her neck.

She could only laugh, yeah, sorry for today's first orgasm to her fifth. She knew how goal oriented he was though. "It's ok." She ruffled his hair and kissed him.

The nap was needed and inevitable. He woke up on a mission.

This time, he employed all the lessons they'd learned.

But her body was groggy.

"Harry, baby—"

"Hmmm?" He hummed from where he was beneath the blanket, head between her legs immediately after he pulled out. That'd be hot, but..

"Baby, I need a break." She pushed the blankets off and cupped his jaw before pulling him up. "And food."

"I'll cook for you." He got up naked as the day and she slapped his little ass as he went.

"That did it! It happened!" She laughed and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're a menace and a meany." He leaned over to kiss her on her sweaty forehead. "What do you want?"

"Whatever can be ready in the space of a shower, I'm so hungry."

"No!" He shook his head. "Don't wash."

"Ok Napoleón. I'll feel better if I'm clean."

"But it'll be like starting over. We're not finished yet."

"Baby, we have time. There's no rush." She reminded him. They'd talked about this. He was scared too, to many relationships sacrificed to fame. She didn't give a fuck; not her first rodeo and all.

He'd been right though. She'd met him in the kitchen and his breakfast in bed plan was foiled. Then they watched a movie, then a documentary.

Luckily that was boring enough, or they were new enough, a make out had ensued.

So here she was, splayed out on the couch, shaking, and she figured when her brain and legs started working again she'd be pissed there were no sheets to simply change. She had an upholstery cleaner somewhere.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled. "You definitely got it." His pleased smile, like when he nailed a take, it's her favorite, along with his kiss.

The future looked bright.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #Harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #silliness

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years

Text

So Happy I Could Die (Luba x Reader)

Word Count: 830

Warnings: language, teasing

A/N: For this drabble, I decided to combine the request of @elliethesuperfruitlover "27. Hugs from behind" "42. Doing each other's hair" and my request from @slutforrobbiebro "44. Head scratches." I got this delightfully saucy little number starring our favorite platinum minx. It's a bit of a companion piece to LoveGame

“SIT STILL, LUBA!” you shouted your frustration at the man between your legs.

“Hör auf mich anzuschreien!” he shouted back in German. His head twisted. “It hurts. You’re supposed to be gentle with me. I'm very delicate you know.” His arms folded across his bare chest.

“It's bleach, du kind. What do you expect it to feel like? Do you know how much I have to use because your hair is so dark? Why did you choose to look like Elsa?”

“Because I am beautiful like ice,” the words dripped from his mouth.

“More like cold and hard,” you giggled.

Luba playfully pushed your leg away, “You are so mean to me! I'll show you how hard I can be.”

He placed his hand back on the same leg and let it stray awkwardly up your thigh. His body twisted at a weird angle as you maintained composure. Lifting his hair while you painted it using a brush loaded with purple foam. You adjusted his head accordingly.

Luba turned sideways now and leaned forward to kiss the thigh he had been touching moments before. “And when ice melts, it gets wet doesn't it?”

“Luba,” your voice wavered. “I told you that night at Oswald’s shop was the last time we can be together. I'm married.”

“Fuck marriage. We're animals, and they aren't monogamous.” Mouth moving further and dangerously close to making you lose control.

“Penguins, swans, dolphins, wolves. They're all animals.. with.. life partners,” your words came out scattered.

“I could fuck you like a wolf,” it wasnt a question. “IF MY SCALP WASN’T ON FIRE!” Luba's arms bent around your legs to attack his head.

You swatted him away with your gloves. “Will you sit right! And don't you dare get bleach near my snatch.”

“But I think it would look cute as a blonde. I could call her Marilyn. You know, in Niagara Falls?”

“You’re obscene,” you ensnared your hands in his thick hair.

“So were you wearing that metal cock. I haven't been pegged that good in a long time. Now pull my hair harder, liebchen.”

You followed through and jerked Luba a bit by his hair. He let out a pleased growl before he hung his head back towards your lap. You eased your grip and began to massage his scalp. Fingers and nails scraped and scratched through the gloves as Luba’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

“How's that?”

“If you keep at it I might need to get off, it feels so good.”

“Don't let me stop you,” you said with a hint of suggestion in your voice. “While you do that, I'll get a bath going. That will be the easiest way of rinsing this out. I imagine your body is pissed after that double Nicky had you pull today between the club and the parlor.”

You got up to leave him as he sat cross-legged on the floor. Luba caught your wrist as you stood and glanced up at you. He stretched his legs out and lifted his hips slightly to display the bulge in his boxers. Your cheeks grew hot at the sight.

“Look what you did. You can't leave me this way, liebchen.” His lips formed a small pout.

“Wank in the bathtub.”

“Help me do it then.” He wasn't asking.

You ignored him and made your way to the bathroom. As you turned the water on and adjusted the settings, you got lost in a thought while the tub filled. If you paid Luba, it would be like a private session outside of the parlor, right? Make it an early birthday present for yourself. It was just a hand job; you weren't going to fuck.

Without hesitation you hastily undressed and stepped inside the hot water. You eased yourself down and laid back. Was it hypnosis that led you to make rash, salacious decisions around Luba? More than likely it was just your vagina taking over for your brain. You had and would never again meet a creature as mysterious and sexual as he was. Just the hint of him made you lean back, close your eyes and touch yourself.

There was a sharp tsk noise with a click of his tongue that startled you half to death. Your hand still on your sex as Luba leaned against the door. A high arch to his eyebrow while one fist was planted on a slender hip.

“Having fun without me?”

“Yes.” Why lie? “Get in, and I'll wash your hair.”

So Luba did. And so you did. And when you were done, you drew him back into your arms. You curled them and your legs around his body to hold him in a tight hug. Your hands locked on either of your own elbows as your chin came to rest on his shoulder. Your foot languidly rubbed his erection.

“How much would you charge me to jerk you off?” you spoke in Luba’s ear.

“Nothing, liebling. Five finger discount.”

Tag list: @robertsheehanownsmyass @magic-multicolored-miracle @sean-falco @midnightseance @nightmonsters @super-unpredictable98 @bisexualnathanyoung @badsext

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan character fics #luba #luba x reader smut #intimacy prompt

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moody-blues-requiem · 4 years

Text

Birdbox (Harpy Narancia x afab reader

For the final Halloween fic and the winner of the poll, we have Harpy Narancia!! It’s a perfect monster for him, but one I’d never even considered writing before this. I hope everyone enjoyed their holiday and these fics, and thank you so much for participating!

n/s/f/w under the cut, warning for some light orgasm denial

"BRUUUNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

A loud screech echoed through the Passione base, easily identified as belonging to Narancia Ghirga. You were reading a novel in the living room while Bruno worked on something in the kitchen, keeping a large pot from boiling over. When you heard Narancia scream, your eyes met his.

"Narancia?" Bruno called. "What's wrong?"

The young man sprinted, quick footsteps could be heard dashing down the hall. He blew past you in a flurry of orange and tan, headed straight for the kitchen. A second pair of footsteps, slower than his, followed.

"LOOK AT WHAT FUGO DID TO ME"

Looking at him from the back, had it not been for his tuft of messy black hair, you might not have recognized him. Everything from his neck to his knees was covered in tan-orange feathers, some with small dark spots and others with snowy white tips. His outstretched arms were covered by wings. From the knees down his legs were bony and... scaly, almost, with three toes each and sharp spurs on the back.

Fugo emerged from the hallway, panting. "I CAN EXPLAIN! I CAN EXPLAIN, HE ASKED FOR THIS!"

“I ASKED FOR WINGS, YOU TURNED ME INTO A WHOLE-ASS BIRD!”

Bruno stepped between the two boys, knowing a fight when he saw one, and stopping it early. “Let’s all take a breath,” he said calmly, looking at both the young men to make sure they were breathing with him. “Okay, Fugo, you first, would you like to explain what happened to Narancia?”

Fugo, the alchemist-in-training, huffed. “Bird-brain over there begged me to give him wings. I warned him that messing with humans and bodies and shit is pretty advanced work, but he persisted, and I gave in. The spell… He was just supposed to get the wings, but…”

Narancia’s tail feathers flicked in annoyance. “AND NOW I’M A FUCKING HARPY! LOOK AT ME!” The wings had replaced his arms, though he had hand-like claws on the ends of them. Bruno sighed, nodding his head. “I… don’t know if I’ll be able to fix this.”

“Abbacchio is a witch, right?” Narancia chimed up hopefully, with a mumbled “warlock” added by Fugo. “He can change me back!” Bruno seemed unsure, though. “I don’t know if he knows anything about…. This, but, I’ll give him a call. He’ll be out on a mission for the next few days, so I’ll see if he can help by phone. Fugo, would you mind seeing if any of your books have suggestions or resources or… anything?”

Fugo grumbled, starting back to his room. Narancia had turned to you, snuggling up next to you on the couch. It was clear he was scared, but you did your best to calm him, petting his hair and smoothing the feathers down his back. They were surprisingly soft, especially up towards his neck, where the baby feathers looked like the down stuffing from a pillow. “In the meantime, Narancia… try not to get into any trouble.” Bruno shook his head. “I don’t know if we would take you to a hospital or to a vet.”

-----------------------

The click-clack of Narancia’s talons as he paced across your bedroom floor was an odd sound, filling the otherwise silent room. He would stretch his impressive wingspan, letting all his feathers show beautifully, before pulling his wings in tight to his body and ruffling up, like a bird in the winter chill.

“Maybe a shower would help clear my head,” he said, thinking out loud. “But…. I don’t….”

“The feathers,” you spoke his thoughts for him.

“Do you think I can shampoo them, or what? What about that one part of my back I can’t reach?”

“How about I shower with you?” you offered, earning a smile from Narancia. It was nice, a little sense of intimacy and normalcy, Narancia was comforted by your presence. Even through, well, whatever this was, you were by his side. In the bathroom Narancia stripped down while you ran a hot shower for you both, but you froze when you heard him gasp.

“Nara?”

Narancia’s shout rang throughout the entire base.

“FUGO GAVE ME A PUSSY!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sure enough, his dick was still there, but his balls had been replaced by a slit and some folds, covered in a tuft of soft feathers. It… it looked like a pussy. A muffled shout came back from across the base, “It’s called a cloaca! Research it!”

-----------------------

It had been a few nights since the Feather Incident, and Fugo was no closer to finding a way to reverse Narancia’s body back to normal. Giorno had called in some foundation his extended family was connected with, who allegedly had access “to like, all knowledge, they’ll find something”, but who knew how long that could take. For now, Narancia was snuggled in your arms, unable to quiet his mind down enough to fall asleep. The change in his body was just too weird. It didn’t feel wrong, exactly, but it wasn’t right either. His nervous shifting caused you to stir from your rest, opening your eyes, gazing at him softly. “Can’t sleep?”

Narancia shook his head. “Brain won’t shut up. Freaked out that Mista might call me birdbrain for the rest of my life.” You chuckled in reply, pulling him up a little closer so you could reach him for a soft, sleepy kiss. You could feel your boyfriend relaxing, practically melting in your arms. “Little better?” you asked, once you had both pulled away for a breath.

“A little,” Narancia replied, before a little grin crossed his features. “But I think I could go for a little more.”

Soft kisses and gentle caresses quickly grew into bold makeouts and full-on groping. Navigating around Narancia’s new wings and tail was a bit of a challenge, and he had to touch carefully so as not to scratch you with his claws. At least you didn’t have to worry about his hawk feet-- Fugo had whipped up a knitted pair of thick, wooly socks, shaped perfectly for talons. “Consider them apology socks,” he had grumbled.

Narancia pulled away from your kiss, a little breathless and cheeks flushed pink. You could feel the tent in his sweatpants, but… something was on his mind, you could tell.

“Question,” he asked. “You know more about, well, these kinds of parts than I do.”

“I know nothing of cloacas, but go on.”

“Right, but. Uh. Does it always feel this weird and sticky when you’re horny? I want to be horny, not sticky.”

You let out a sharp peal of laughter. “Yes, I mean. I don’t know if ‘sticky’ would be my first word to describe it, but yeah, sticky works. It doesn’t sound as hot though.”

“You put up with so much for me,” he whispered lovingly, before you two fell into a shared fit of giggles.

“It’s worth it, I promise,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him. “In fact…. I think I might be able to show you.”

Narancia watched carefully as you rummaged through your nightstand drawer, producing a black bag with a golden tie. A present, one Narancia had gotten for you a year or two back. Big but not too thick, long but not painfully so, it was your favorite vibrator.

“Ok, bef--”

“I want to try it!”

You were silent. Here you were, about to go on a spiel about how Narancia didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to. “When am I gonna get the chance for something like this again?”

He had a point, it wasn’t like he would have a cloaca for much longer. Hopefully. It looked like a vagina to you, but with his penis where a clit would be. With a happy shrug you removed the vibrator from its pouch, running your fingers over the purple silicone, smirking at your boyfriend. “Get those pants off, then, and let’s get started.”

---------------

Narancia was soaked through. His slit leaked a clear, viscous fluid, similar to your own arousal. It tasted, well, a lot like his cum, salty and a touch metallic. His cock twitched when you ran the curved tip of the toy over his slit, pushing the feathers back so his skin could feel the cool silicone. You pushed it in, just a little. Narancia huffed, eyes squinting shut. It was new, you two had played with the idea of pegging but this was different. Less painful stretch, more desire to be filled. His hips rocked forward, taking the toy just a bit deeper.

“Eager?” you asked, swirling the toy inside him and getting a quick nod in return. You pushed the you in more, past the halfway point, backing out a little, and repeating, a steady in-and-out until the dildo was buried to the hilt in Narancia, only a little bit of purple plastic peeking out from between his feathery mound.

“Do you like it, Nara?” you cooed, moving the toy just a bit, causing the boy to whine. “Does it feel so good to be this full?”

“Please,” he whispered, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. “I need you to move, please--”

His back arched off the bed as you began thrusting. The pace was quick, but he took it so well, writhing from the feeling of being filled, the curves and ridges of the silicone cock rubbing against him so well, your other hand coming up to grab his cock--

“Wh-- hey!” he whined. Your fingers held tight around the base of his erection, a makeshift ring. “What’s what for!”

“For this,” you said, pressing a button, the vibrator whirring to life. Had it not been for your fingers, Narancia would’ve fallen apart right then and there. Instead, white spots danced in his vision, his dick twitching in your hands, painfully hard. Just the warmth of your fingers felt so good, he only needed a little more of your touch, he was so damn close! You grabbed the ribbon from your vibrator’s bag, securing it around the base of Narancia’s cock. He wriggled, the pleasure and pressure from the vibrator still fogging his mind. “Please,” he whimpered out, hips bucking. “Come on babe, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please… ngh, you know!”

You clicked the vibrator up another notch, making Narancia’s back arch. “Babe, th-- fuck, this is cruel! Cruel and unusual puni-- NGHH!” Narancia was cut off by a squawk as you pulled the vibrator from his hole. It was drenched in his juices, just begging to be licked clean… but you had a job to finish.

“P-PUT IT BACK!” Narancia yelled, wings flapping a bit in protest. “LET ME CUM, PLEASE!”

There it was, the magic words. In one swift motion you slid the toy back into Narancia’s needy hole, and with the other, you tugged the ribbon free from around his cock. After a split second of twitching he erupted, hot cum shooting up his abdomen, coating his tanned skin, almost high enough to land on his face. His back arched off the bed in a harsh c-curve, wings flapping wildly, blowing your hair out of your face. You weren’t sure if you’d ever heard him moan so loud.

As quickly as his orgasm had hit it subsided, Narancia’s lithe form collapsing onto the bed in a tired slump. His hair and feathers were equally disheveled, and his chest was coated in his own warm seed.

“So being sticky’s worth it, huh?” you teased, poking his thigh with the slick-coated toy.

Narancia nodded in return. “I can already tell that cleanup’s gonna be a bitch, though.” The poor boy sounded exhausted, you made a mental note to grab him a glass of water. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

Before you could move, Narancia pulled you to his side, resting his head on your chest. “Stay with me first,” he said softly. “Cleanup can wait a few minutes, cuddling needs to be now.”

-------------------

By the morning, Giorno had pulled through with a way to reverse the transformation, but Narancia elected to hold off. “Give me a little more time with it,” he had requested, eyes darting to you, a small smirk on his lips. “There’s still a whole lot that I want to try.”

#Narancia Ghirga #jjba #vento aureo #golden wind #jjba narancia #my writing #va #n/s/f/w #halloween spooktacular

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years

Text

Imagine:

Reader being intimate with Erik for the first time after being in an abusive relationship.

Y/N had to remind herself that everything was going to be okay.

Erik was here. He was her protector.

Erik would never hurt her.

As she stood in front of her vanity, stroking her hair and running her fingers under her eye to trap the tears, she could say that she finally felt sexy again. The room was candle lit because of the intense thunderstorm, the change in lighting casting shadows of her curvy silhouette across the room. The oval shape of her ruby colored nails dragged down past her collar bones, resting on her protruding cleavage. The high crotch black lace teddy was a gift from Erik. He wanted her to feel desired again; properly. Goosebumps surfaced over her skin that reminded Erik of brown sugar. This was the night. After over four months into the dating phase, Y/N was finally going to have sex with Erik.

When they first met, she hadn’t expected for him to cling to her like he did. She was broken, depressed, seeing a psychiatrist who made her read motivational books and write journals about her recovery from abuse. It hadn’t worked until Erik showed up. Now, Y/N couldn’t live without him. Erik was the constant reminder that her past was really in the past.

When she finally opened up to him about her past abusive relationship with her first ever boyfriend, the only man besides Erik that she’d ever been with, he cried. He cried, then his face morphed into this dark sinister glare.

Listen to me, Y/N, THATS THE LAST TIME a motherfucker puts their hands on you, I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you in anyway. I mean that shit, I swear I’ll put a fucking bullet in their head.

She could remember the glossy appearance from the tears in his eyes, his nostrils flared, skin reddening to a deep russet color and gold caps like fangs. He grabbed both of her hands, squeezing tightly before resting his head on them. From then on out, Erik stayed true to his word.

Back to the intimacy, Y/N shook the memory from her brain, a shy and delicate smile gracing her glossy lips. The sound of the thunder and the smell of the rain lulled her. The only thing missing was Erik...

“Hey, gorgeous.”

He’d been stuck in traffic from work all the way on the other side of town. Now, he was soaking wet, dreads sticking to his forehead and clothes like a second skin.

“Erik,” her voice was like a lullaby.

“What’s all this?” Erik fully enters the room, softly closing the door behind him.

“Here,” Y/N lifts from her seat at her vanity, walking over to Erik. She started taking off his suit jacket, allowing it to drop to the floor with a soft thud. Next, she loosened his tie, her eyes looking up at him, half of her round face shadowed from the luminance of the candles. Before she could fully remove the tie, Erik grabs both of her hands, bringing them to his lips before resting them under his chin.

“Baby...what are you doing?” He actually spoke that in a purposeful hushed tone this time around. The softness of his voice relaxed her.

“I’m undressing you...so we can make love.”

Erik closes his eyes, Y/N’s hand coming up to swipe the dreads away from his forehead. His forehead wrinkled, lips parted because he loved the way her smooth fingers grazed his scalp.

“Baybeee,” she whines.

“What?” He wanted her to tell him what she wanted. He needed her to say it. Erik wanted his woman to take control of the moment.

“Take me...I’m ready,” she stood on her tiptoes, planting a soft kiss to his neck, “Bayyy,”

“You’re ready for me?” He grabbed hold of her face, staring deeply into her oval shaped eyes, “you know what your asking? Right?”

She nods, eyes glossy, “yeah, I know.”

He allowed his forehead to touch hers. Y/N was ready to see what sex with Erik would be like.

“Lay on the bed, let me see you.”

Y/N reluctantly let go, making her way to the bed. She pressed her body into the cotton duvet, waiting for the next move. Waiting was the hardest part. She aches for him. Erik never let his eyes leave hers as he slowly undressed. Y/N saw him naked plenty of times but this was their first time being intimate with one another. They would both see each others nudity with new eyes. He only had his briefs left, he purposely waited to watch her eager eyes regard him. Once he saw that pure lust circle within her light brown orbs, he knew it was time to show her his big dick.

Boxers around his ankles, Y/N takes in a sharp breath, fingers pressed to her lips. He was rather...large...no...fucking extra large. Looking at his dick fully now she wished she’d let him enter before. Mercy. Erik was...everything. A good man with some good dick.

“This what you want tonight?” He stroked it, pulling back on the head of his dick, his slit opening to reveal to her the build up of his pre cum.

“Yes, please.” Y/N sat up in the bed, pulling the straps to her teddy down.

“No, I’ll undress you.”

Letting her hands drop to her sides, Erik walks to her, Y/N laying back to allow him better access. The minute he took those straps to pull down painfully slow, the vision of her body had him biting his lip and grunting.

“So beautiful baby,” he allowed his finger tips to linger over her hardened nipples and belly button, “ so fucking beautiful baby. Thank you.”

Erik takes his hand to hold her head towards him, planting his lips against hers. He sucked on her bottom lip, then he used his tongue to part her lips. Erik took it slow, soft smacking of their lips so sensual. Y/N stopped kissing to breathe better, her teeth grazing her lower lip before letting go. Erik’s thumb rubbed it soothingly before his head began to descend to her heaving chest. The suckling he did to each one had Y/N begging him to fuck her. He gave each nipple a soft suck and a sharp lick. He even massaged them while sucking and licking. Her pussy had a heart beat of its own from how much she enjoyed this.

“Fuck, Erik,” she moaned, “that feels amazing.”

Finally, when she was on the verge of cumming, Erik trails his tender kisses down her belly. It tickled but she loved it. The feeling of his tongue dipping into her belly button had her thrusting her hips. All he did was kiss and lick on her before he got to the real treat. Y/N was so turned on. Her body was electrifying.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you,” Eriks reassurance caused Y/N to tear up.

“I know,” she rubbed his cheek with her knuckle, “go ahead, show me...”

With a lazy smirk, Erik was face to face with her waxed mound. Gently, he closed her thighs, planting kisses on her knee caps all the way down her legs to the tops of her feet. She writhed, chest arched forward and eyes low with longing. The lure of his actions... she was driven to insanity.

“Oh, God, just eat me.”

Her hands were pulling his dreads.

“Patience, let Daddy learn what makes this body tick.”

Y/N let out a rather loud moan from the way Erik’s tongue dragged along her inner thighs. She gripped his dreads again.

“Easy, baby, let me learn...”

He learned a lot. What made her moan, giggle, sigh with pleasure. She was so sensitive to him. That’s good, Erik will be the only man to make her feel like this, like this was her first time but 100 percent better. That’s right, this body was her temple...a temple he would properly explore.

The softness of his plump lips against her outer mound...boy did that have her screaming ooooo. She couldn’t even begin to form the words for how good it felt. He was so close to spreading her phat lips to take a look inside like she was housing the finest treasures in there.

“Y/N...I’m so close to seeing that pussy...so close baby...”

She let out an airy sigh, eyes looking down at Erik as he spread her lips, the sound of her creamy pussy making her skin flush. The look on his face was the look as if he were ready to cum. His dick had to be hitting against the bed from how much it twitched and fattened up with arousal.

“This right here,” Erik shook his head before meeting your eyes. His eyes were warm and affectionate. This caused her to bite down on her bottom lip to stifle a cry. She had never, ever, experienced this. Erik was enamored by her vagina, looking at it the way he did because it was a gift, a precious and sacred part of Y/N that shoulder NEVER be tainted with filth like the man she was with. That grotesque excuse for a man did not deserve to fuck her or touch her or look at her, even speak to her. Erik wanted to kill him. As he stared at the slippery pink of her pussy, engorged clit, tight entrance, he was reminded that Erik needed to be there for her, between her legs and in her life. He loved her.

“If only you could see this...how beautiful it is...your pussy,” his eyes even became glossy, “I promise I will never...”

“Baby, I know,” She strokes his dreads to the side, “just show me, please.”

He had her soul. It was his now. The way he had her legs spread, the way his eyes would bore into hers. The feeling of his lips and tongue tasting all the areas of her pussy. He sampled areas that she didn’t even know she had. Now his fingers were added to the mix, coaxing her into climax. This was going to be the best orgasm. Y/N was yelling his name, crying out for him to keep going.

“Oh my God, it’s right there, I can feel it!!!”

“Yeah? Right there? Let Daddy have it, Y/N. This how you supposed to feel..”

“Yesssss, ohhhh. Her toes pointed to the ceiling.

“Let me have it, baby...”

She shook, her body giving in to the overwhelming intensity of that orgasm. He made her cum with his mouth.

“Let me have it...let me have it...” he continues on and on until she gave him yet another.

“Oh, I love you...I love you so much.” He reminded her.

Y/N needed his lips again. Their bodies were heated and sweaty already.

“Fuck me, Erik.” She whispered into his ear.

“Ugh,” he groaned.

He lifted up, grabbing hold of his dick and rubbing it along her soaking wet folds.

“You hear that? That’s that pussy making noise for me...I can’t wait to show you how you’re supposed to be fucked.”

Erik’s dick split her open. She allowed him to fully enter her, Y/N’s eyes clouded with lust and bewilderment. Erik grabbed the headboard, his head falling forward. He was loosing control. His muscles were painted with candle light and it made Y/N want to kiss and lick him everywhere. This was her man, her protector.

His hips moved like he was dancing slow motion, each time her toes would curl and her nails would drags down his back. Y/N could feel herself getting ready to cum again. She locked eyes with him, mouth falling open each time he would thrust forward hard.

“Harder,” she encourages.

Erik picked up the pace but kept it steady, his hips snapping into hers suddenly each time before stopping. She curled up under him, pussy unable to take the pleasure. This made Erik pull her legs over his shoulders. She had no where to go now. He was going to show her how a man is really supposed to treat her. Tender love and care not manipulation and humiliation.

“Oh, fuckkkk, you’re gonna make me cum,” he had his hands on the back of her thighs now, punishing her pussy. Y/N could only moan, no need for words when Erik damn near took her breath away. There was no other feeling to compare this to. How could anything compare to the way her pussy wrapped around him? How it creamed all over him? She was at a loss. This is exactly what she would be receiving.

“Fuck, Erik, Baby, I can feel you getting thicker,” her pussy was at its widest, “baby, I’m so opened up for you...baybeee, oh gosh, bayyy,”

Erik let her have it all.

“Bay bee, bayyyy, babe,” her quiet tone, the tremble in her fingers on his shoulders, it drove him wild.

“Good fucking pussy, all mines,” Erik buried his face in her neck, his hips snapping into her harder. She squeezed her eyes shut, mouth hanging open for the rest of the ride.

“I’m cumming... oooh, mhmmmmmm, I’m cumming, girl.”

He lifted up, eye brows worried, “Look at you.., look at you letting me take this pussy...fuckkkk!”

He released in her, the tight hold pulling more cum from him. He could collapse right now. Y/N moaned out softly, as Erik finished himself inside of her. Slipping out finally, Erik watched her cum mixed with his drizzle onto the bed sheets. Erik relaxed on top of her, his eyes searching hers.

“Y/N, that was...” He shook his head, grabbing one of her hands to kiss and rub against his cheek, “Baby, that was magical.”

He was so soft and caring. Y/N could finally relax her muscles and calm her nerves.

“I felt it too...that spark,” she kissed the tip of his nose, “You are, amazing and heavy as hell.”

They both share a laugh before Erik pulls Y/N against him, cuddling eachother. She knew they would have sex again but this was what she wanted for them both at the moment.

“You make me feel, wanted...”

“Hey, you are wanted don’t forget that”

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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herandhearelove · 3 years

Text

Coming out.

TL;DR: I am genderfluid. All of my characters will remain the same, except for Ashley/Halsey*, who will now go by Ash/Halsey— NOT Ashley, regardless of gender. Current pronouns will be in my username and easily visible.

I will be continuing to do primarily lewd roleplay, and because this is a fantasy where I can be free of dysphoria, Ash will anatomically match whatever his/her current gender is, which will also be whatever my OOC gender as a writer is. My writer tag will continue to be Sooki, as it is gender neutral.

I very, very, very strongly urge you to read the rest of this post so you may understand me better— ESPECIALLY if you do not believe gender fluidity exists.

If you wish to interact with me however, especially in any long term capacity, reading this is mandatory.

* edit: this also works exactly the same for my portrayal of Loki. I wrote this believing Ash would be the only genderfluid character I played, and the post is so large that I cannot be bothered to update it. Works exactly the same way though!!!

Overview.

Hey guys.

So, this has been a very long time coming. My understanding of gender has been called into question over the last few months, and I have had a very rapid period of change and self discovery. Roleplay has greatly assisted this. My friends have been accepting, my life has evolved, and I have even chosen a new name to go by out of character with the help of my friends in this community.

I am genderfluid. This means my gender is in flux, to the point that I feel extremely uncomfortable being referred to as a Female or as a Male at times, as well as experiencing shifting dysphoria against the parts of my body that assign me to the gender I am not associating with. My jawline, on some days, is a celebration. On others, it’s a reminder that the world perceives me one way, and that I have to work to change it. Some days, I feel pained that I am so flat chested, as I feel like less of a woman. On others, I count myself blessed, because a tank top and a lack of a bra can transform me into a man.

I have been friends with trans people before, and when they came out, I remember feeling like I suddenly didn’t know them. This could not be further from the truth— the Me on the inside, that you are friends with, that you write with, that you occasionally say hi to? They have always been genderfluid. Only now is that being brought to the surface. If you are friends with me, then you have always loved a man without knowing. Nothing about who I am has changed, apart from the fact that I am bringing myself to the surface.

I can think of no other way to explain how I came to this conclusion than to tell my story. I hope that you can all recognise that this part of the post should be unnecessary. I hope that, if I were to end my post here, that you would be able to respect me for who I am, and who I am now realising I have always been. That said, I know that many people do not recognise gender fluidity as legitimate, and I am aware of the fact that simple exposure and explanation is one of the best ways to move towards acceptance. There is a reason many people who live in cities tend to be more accepting of others as a whole— exposure to diversity inherently breeds acceptance.

My story, through the lense of roleplay.

I began to roleplay when I was 17, and joined the lewd community less than 2 weeks after my 18th birthday. My story, however, begins earlier than that, with a brief insight into my real life. I shall be as vague as possible. I am a minor public figure out of character who makes a career off of public perception, and as such, my roleplay accounts being linked to my real life identity could derail my income source. Therefore, detail is impossible. I hope you understand.

When I was very young, I came to the conclusion I was bisexual. I was apparently the last to know this— my coming out was mercifully uneventful. Several years later, I realised that my bisexuality was me still holding onto the patriarchal view that I needed male fulfilment in my life. I coined myself a lesbian. That much has not changed since— although I suppose, after this change, I am now sometimes a straight male. I haven’t thought of myself as straight in a very long time. It is... unusual, after so long.

By the time I joined roleplay I was confident in my sexuality. I thought I was as confident in my gender— I was a “Woman”, capitol W. I did not see the already beginning signs of my gender identity shining through, such as the way I was very stereotypically a “dyke”, but crucially, only sometimes. I felt increasingly like something was wrong. Like I was just a brain, trapped in a body. I didn’t link this to gender issues at all. I assumed it was existential restlessness.

Very early on, I began to play “hung” characters. I found comfort in them, in the idea that I wasn’t less of a woman for wanting a dick, in the fact that I could actually have one! My characters have been varied, but I have returned to this many times. I have only recently realised that this was a projection of my gender issues. I also suffered from “penis envy”, which I would later discover was the beginning of dysphoria. One of my closest friends (Mila, aka @/NYMPHVILE for those who know her) is bisexual, and every time she spoke about sleeping with a man, I felt this pain in my chest. Someone made her happy— and I could never provide that same feeling for her. This should have been a sign long ago about who I was.

One day, I was speaking about these feelings with another of my friends— Mew, aka @/mew_writes, who has too many characters to list here. He suggested, almost nonchalantly, that I might be non binary.

Oh boy.

What followed was a several week long panic. I struggled to believe I was non binary— how could I be, when I associated so strongly with gendered features on both sides of the spectrum? No, I could not be. I talked to non binary people, researched it in my own time. No. It didn’t quite fit.

It was Mila who suggested genderfluid. I told her how I felt and that I might be non binary, and she responded with “that sounds like gender fluid to me.” Truthfully, I didn’t believe it could be possible at first. I didn’t believe gender could fluctuate like that— the people who did that were just making stuff up! In our current world, where women and men can dress as they want, you weren’t gender fluid— that was just your fashion sense.

This was, of course, tied to my views, due to a lack of exposure to gender fluidity. It took time to move past it— but I did, and I stopped gaslighting myself and trusted my instincts.

Once I accepted my gender fluidity, I still rejected masculinity, believing instead that I just fluctuated between female and non binary. With retrospect, this was a fear thing. I had always been gay. Always loved women. Always been a woman. If I was a man? I was a straight guy. I was the same as the men who had denied me so many freedoms, just some guy. It was foolish, of course. Straight men are as diverse and different as every other demographic, and besides— I’m not even a cis man, and I’m not male 100% of the time by a long stretch. This patriarchal worry kept me questioning for weeks longer.

I came to the final conclusion almost unceremoniously. Me and Mila agreed that it was likely an aversion to men, and because it was a masculine day, she began to use male pronouns and we continued as if nothing happened. It didn’t feel right until later that night. I’ll never forget when she called me a good boy for going to sleep on time. It was— dare I say— life changing, and it’s likely she didn’t even realise how much so. I am very lucky that she is bisexual.

A minor tangent.

This part is specifically addressed to those who believe hung accounts are wrong. If you do not feel this, there is little point to you reading this tangent. Feel free to skip ahead.

Here is the part where I very slightly preach at you. Many of the people within the trans community dislike hung characters, feeling like they are being fetishised. There is a large part of me that understands and agrees with this sentiment. If you are playing a hung character but disagree with trans rights or deny trans existence, please educate yourself. Seriously.

Howver, I also urge the trans people within the community to not be too harsh on these characters. I myself would not have discovered my own identity without playing these characters. It’s also worth noting that these characters normalise the idea that a woman with a dick should still be treated as a woman. I am, on an increasing amount of days, a man with a vagina. I have never seen a character portray this, and I would love for it to be normalised.

As part of this point, I also ask you to consider how roleplay functions as an escape. Almost every character in roleplay is what in any other circumstance would be considered a “Mary-Sue.”— a version of the author that represents a desire and encapsulates that feeling. I desperately, desperately wanted a dick, and I couldn’t explain why. Now I can. Not everyone is so fortunate— it has taken me years to come to this conclusion. If a “cis male” is playing a female character but still playing hung, consider what that means. They desire being identified as female so much that they enjoy being thought of as one in the eyes of other people. If a “cis woman” is playing a hung character, she may well be like I was— someone who has not found themselves yet.

These people may also find comfort in the idea that they would be accepted as their preferred gender, without being demeaned within that acceptance because of what is beneath their clothes. That is why many may call themselves hung instead of trans: an escape from that label may be appealing. In my case it was the opposite— legitimising my feelings of dysphoria while being able to continue feeling like a woman made me feel legitimate and happy. I could explain away my feelings while remaining a Cis woman. For so long, I lied to myself— but a part of me doubts I would have ever come to this realisation if I had not had that in-between step.

Many may not even realise this, and it may take time for them to discover whether or not they feel as such. I know many trans women in particular flock to the roleplay community for that very reason— escape from the discomfort of the realities of their physical form.

Then again, perhaps I am reading too much into it. However, in my case, these characters have helped me become who I really am. I urge hesitance with these accounts from the trans community. Not everyone is at the same point in their journey, and ultimately, roleplay is a way that we can become whoever we desire, whether we do so in a lewd way or not. If you disagree with that, I understand why, but that is how I feel on the matter, and I feel like now more than ever I have a degree of authority, however small and insignificant. Every time another account told me I was wrong for the character I played, it felt like a blow to the stomach, and I had no idea why. Turns out, it was the reminder that my outward appearance was reason enough for society to not accept the idea of me having a dick, even in a fantasy world where having one was physically possible.

Why I’m Genderfluid, and other realities.

Many people may wonder why I feel this way. This answer is unfortunately the least complicated, and the most unsatisfying.

I don’t know.

I wish I could give you a medical reason. A brain scan that showed how hormones are flipping me back and forth. But I just... can’t. I question my own sanity regularly, but I am coming to realise that this question is not a part of the real answer. The reality is this:

I’ve spent 19 years NOT being gender fluid. And I can’t spend another day living like that. It’s not that I know for certain with any of this. It’s simply that this is me, and I cannot change it, any more then I can reconstruct my face or delete my memories and upload new ones.

Many people also wonder if this is permanent. This is once again an answer that is painfully disappointing. I simply do not know. This may change— in fact, it is a difficult reality that it is likely. I know more than most that gender is a fickle and fluid thing. Maybe this is a middle step, like my non binary phase was, where I am running from the reality of being a trans man. Maybe this is a phase, where I feel I cannot love a woman while being wholly female, due to internalised homophobia.

But there is another reality worth addressing. No state of being is permanent. Whether I am genderfluid forever or not doesn’t matter. The fact is that now, in this moment, that is my best understanding of myself. If I discover another reality about myself, this does not erase this period of my life from my history. It also will not erase the memory of who was ok with me being who I really am, and who was not. I have tried being cis. I have hidden behind masks all my life. Sooki, my real life persona, Ashley, all my other characters— all masks to a certain degree. Cis was another mask I wore. Now it is off, and I will remember those who screamed and ran away when they saw what was beneath.

What happens with your roleplay characters?

Finally, an unashamedly fun party of the topic.

My characters have always felt just like that: characters. I act in ways that I would not on them all the time. All of my characters will remain as the gender they are, and will continue to well into the future. If I make a new character, I will specify their gender identity, and that will be that. They are not the same as me out of character.

Except for one.

Ash has always been a surrogate for me. Since the moment I made them, they have felt like a character that I can put myself into. They have diverged greatly from Halsey’s real life (although perhaps ironically, I have ultimately ended up following Halsey into a non cis life, as she came out as she/they non binary earlier this year). Me and Mila, along with a host of my other friends, have expanded her into a character with a rich backstory.

As such, I will be making Ash genderfluid to match myself. I understand the urge to make her just like me physically as well. However roleplay is an escape for me, and I quite enjoy the lewd community. Ash is an idealised version of myself, and this will hardly be the first time I have explored something that is not physically possible. And as such:

Ash will physically match my gender identity of the time. This means the whole 9 yards— when female, she will be as she has been up until this point. However, when he is male? No boobs, wider shoulders, maybe even a little bit of body hair, and a cock. It will be large too— I’m a size queen/king and I have no shame in doing such. The stereotypical masculinity of it is a fantasy I could live in forever, a positive pool in which I am able to swim in through my phone. I am able to present with this character as I wish to be one day— and although this is unrealistic with current technology, it is what I dream of. To be very clear— I would be doing this within my mind whether or not it was public and whether or not I was a lewd account. However, I am fond of the lewd community, and to me there is no greater affirmation of my gender than sexual affirmation. I am sure of this decision.

I am lucky to have chosen such a good FC. Halsey speaks to me as a person, and that connection, with retrospect, is not for naught. Halsey presents very masculine at times, giving me material of the same person presenting as both genders and allowing me to keep my FC. I will not be changing character in any way.

For example:

Female presenting:

Male presenting:

This transformational ability will also have an in universe explanation. I will be detailing this more in Ash’s updated backstory, which, if you are seeing this post, is updated and can be found here.

It will involve a little bit of magic, and be tied in with the story of Zia, aka @/NYMPHQUEEN, who helped me craft the story behind it.

So how do I act?

This part is simple! My pronouns will be in my bio. When role playing with me, treat me as a writer and Ash within the scene as you would a cis person of that gender. It’s really that simple.

Some more specifics, for those who would like them.

If we are within a scene and naked, or anything like that— feel free to continue writing within that gender even if I change. I will simply respond when my gender matches the plot and the roleplay will not make me feel dysphoric. No need for mid-story transformations. Easy.

Casual terms like bro, dude, darling, ect ect? All fine regardless of pronouns. My mind considers them gender neutral and I am not fussed about them.

If you slip up, don’t stress. I’m still getting used to this too, and I’m a forgiving person. However, if you disrespect me by deliberately avoiding using the pronouns very obviously displayed in my name, that will be when we have a problem. Then you’re just deliberately being a dick.

Conclusion.

I would like to thank my friends for helping me realise this about myself. In particular, the 3 mentioned in this post: Mew, Mila and Zia. You 3— plus all those knew about this before I went public— have helped me become comfortable enough in this decision to make it public.

And lastly: thank you to you, who has stuck through my long rambling to the end. I hope I have changed your views on gender fluidity if you did not believe in it before, and I hope that, whoever you are, you can respect me as a person and allow me to be myself.

But, I digress. I have rambled for far too long. In the words of Marcus Tullius Cicero:

“If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”

Thank you. I love you.

Sooki (He/She)

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unfolded73 · 4 years

Text

Kitchen Gossip (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Yesterday Jen Gunter published a piece in the New York Times celebrating the WAP, and so I guess somehow Jen Gunter and Cardi B led indirectly to this, the little fic that pushed me over 1,000,000 words on ao3.

Rated Teen, 1452 words. David stumbles into some girl talk with Marcy and her sisters. (ao3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

David picks up the pinot noir bottle and upends it over his glass and… nothing.

He can probably do without another glass of wine. If he stops drinking now, he’ll be stone cold sober by bedtime and will thus be best-positioned to seduce his husband, the fact that they are sleeping in Patrick’s childhood bedroom down the hall from Patrick’s parents during this visit notwithstanding.

A cheer erupts from the living room.

On the other hand, Patrick is going to be watching hockey with his relatives until late, and David’s got just enough of a buzz going that another glass of wine will make the next couple of hours much less boring.

He sets the empty bottle down and goes into the kitchen in search of another.

Marcy has wine bottles lined up on the counter, and David sets his glass down, grabbing one and peeling the foil away.

“Mom told me once that I wouldn’t be that interested in sex after menopause, but I’m not finding that to be the case,” a woman behind David says surprisingly loudly, given the topic.

He doesn’t want to whip around and stare at the person speaking, so he focuses on inserting the corkscrew and twisting it. He didn’t look over at the women clustered in the kitchen when he came in, but he’s pretty sure that’s Patrick’s Aunt Laura talking.

“Well, Mom was probably just as happy to have an excuse not to have sex. She never talked like it was something she enjoyed.” That’s Marcy talking now. About Patrick’s dearly departed grandmother’s sex life. Not a topic David expected to hear anyone talking about during this visit to his in-laws’ house. Or, you know, ever.

The women are giggling to themselves as David deftly extracts the cork from the wine bottle. “God rest her soul, but she may have thought the female orgasm was a myth.” He supposes, from context, that this is the younger of Marcy’s sisters talking. Jennifer. The short one who makes the Nanaimo bars that he’d be willing to commit unspeakable crimes for.

“Or she just didn’t want to let us in on the secret in case we ran out and lost our virginities in high school,” Marcy says, and the women laugh.

“It was too late for me by the time she started lecturing me about it,” Jennifer says as David fills his glass.

“David!” calls Laura, the oldest sister. Wincing, he turns around, expecting her to tease him for inadvertently bumbling into this private sisterly conversation. “Bring that wine over here; I need a refill.”

He does as instructed, shooting Marcy a look that he hopes is apologetic for intruding on her bonding time with her sisters. She smiles and waves her hand to dismiss his apology, and when he finishes topping off Laura’s glass, Marcy holds hers out as well. He ends up emptying the bottle, between himself and the three sisters who are gossiping in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Laura says to Jennifer, “You could fill a book with the stuff that Mom didn’t teach us about sex.” Continuing as if he’s not still standing there. So David starts to turn and go.

“Did your parents teach you about sex, David?” Jennifer, the youngest, asks him. Her lips are stained red with the wine, and he’s guessing she’s had at least as many glasses as he has. Maybe more.

He tilts his head to the side and tries to answer honestly. “Mm. They weren’t shy about talking about sex around me. There wasn’t any shame about it. But ‘teach’ is probably the wrong word. They never sat me down and had a ‘talk’.” He makes air quotes with his one free hand.

Marcy and her sisters are hanging on his every word, nodding in sympathy, and it’s disconcerting but also kind of nice.

“When I was eleven, my mother had her hairdresser Evan talk to me?” He shudders a little. “I guess because he was gay and she I assumed I was too.” He waves his hand to try to shoo that memory away. “But it was kind of horrifying. In retrospect, not appropriate topics for an eleven year old.” He sips his wine.

“Did Mom tell you that oral sex was unsanitary?” Jennifer asks her older sisters.

Marcy raises her eyebrows. “I don’t think she ever mentioned to me that it existed.”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Jennifer says, and then shakes her head. “No, mine is worse. It kind of gave me a complex about it. I had to get over the idea that it was dirty. The idea that no man would want to put his mouth… you know. Down there.”

David blinks, and wonders if he should try to slink away before these women (who include his mother-in-law) remember that he’s standing there listening to them talking about mouths and vaginas. But also, he has something to contribute to this conversation, and the alcohol has vanished the filter between his brain and his mouth.

“To be fair to your mother, the culture instills in women a lot of that shame. There are all these products telling women they don’t smell good or taste good or that they’re too wet or not wet enough…” Oh god. Did all of that just come out of his mouth? In front of Marcy?

But all of them are nodding at his sage words. “David, you’re so right,” Laura says. “I had to talk to my daughter about that. She’d gotten this idea that her labia of all things should look a certain way. From porn, I guess.”

“As if we don’t have enough pressure from the media about our visible body parts,” Marcy says, taking a big drink from her wine glass.

“I mean, you aren’t going to be putting your mouth down there on any women anyway, are you, David?” Laura slurs, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Well, not now,” he says, tipsy enough not to be offended by the assumptions of his… aunt-in-law? Is that a thing? “But I’m pansexual, so I enjoyed doing that in my day.”

Laura, meanwhile, is drunk enough to be unphased and unashamed. “Oh, I thought you were gay.”

“Well, it just goes to show you can’t make assumptions about sexual orientation based on how someone acts,” he explains easily. “My hockey-loving, beer-drinking husband in there only enjoys sex with men, while for me, gender doesn’t figure in to who I’m attracted to.”

Jennifer takes another sip of her wine. “I might have been bisexual…” She looks at David. “Or pansexual. If it had occurred to me to explore any of that before I married Eric.”

David smiles at her. “Your sexual identity doesn’t have to align with who you’re sleeping with. You can be bi or pan and still be in a monogamous relationship with a man.” He gestures up and down at himself, the dregs of his wine sloshing dangerously. “Case in point.”

She nods but looks uncertain. He wants to hug her and take her by the hand and guide her into the wonderful world of queer identities, because it’s never too late. Reining himself in from any inappropriate demonstrations of affection, David drinks and then looks down at his wine glass, surprised that it’s already empty.

“We need more wine!” Laura says, and she’s going over this time to open a bottle.

“So what did Mom tell you?” Jennifer asks Marcy.

Marcy sighs. “That I would regret it if I didn’t save myself for marriage. And that part of being married was, you know. It was the whole wifely duty thing.” She rolls her eyes. “Fortunately, I knew better than to listen to any of that.”

A part of David is intensely curious to know more, but he has just enough sense not to ask Marcy to elaborate. He holds his glass out to let Aunt Laura fill it.

“So your parents assumed you were gay and then you had to… what? Come out to them that you also liked women?” Laura asks.

David leans back against the counter and nods. “That is almost exactly what happened, yes.”

The women nod at him, the overly aggressive agreement of drunk people. “That must have been difficult in its own way,” Marcy says.

“Well, we all have our crosses to bear,” David says.

~*~

“How did you get so drunk, is the question,” Patrick says, putting a glass of water and a couple of headache pills on the bedside table next to David.

“It was your mother’s fault,” David groans. “She and your aunts were talking about your grandmother’s sex life, and things kind of went downhill from there.”

Patrick puts his hands on his hips. “Ew, David.”

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #marcy brewer #my fic

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janeyseymour · 4 years

Text

Escape- pt 21

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt 6. pt 7. pt 8. pt 9. pt 10. pt 11. pt 12. pt 13. pt 14. pt 15. pt 16. pt 17. pt 18. pt 19. pt 20.

Jane Seymour has stayed with Henry long enough. Cue Catherine of Aragon and the rest of the girls to save her (Aramour)

Catherine and John have a chat.

“Beale!” The head of the police department barked. “We have a lead on Tudor!”

“He’s heading to where Seymour is?”

“Someone was spotted that looks like him. He’s not quite near her, but if he knows where she is, he’s heading there for sure. You need to warn Seymour and Aragon.”

“Sir, we can’t. She’s nine months pregnant. If we bring that stress to her, it won’t be good for her or the baby. We have to find him before he finds her.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” The boss raised an eyebrow at his number one officer.

“We have to figure it out. She can’t be under that much stress. I’ll drive out there myself and protect her if I have to. That poor girl has been through more than enough to last her a lifetime.”

“Seems like you have quite the attachment to this case Mr. ‘I-hate-everyone-and-everything.’”

“She just really deserves what she has now, okay?”

“Fine. Go.”

“Thank you sir.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Thomas caught a glimpse of Henry at a rest stop.

“Thomas?”

“You’re not going to get to her before I do.” A look of horror flashed onto Henry’s face before going blank again. The two tried to remain quiet.

“What the fuck are you yelling that for? Are you trying to get us both arrested?”

“I’m not in any trouble. It’s just you they’re out for,” Thomas stated simply. “You’re not getting to her.”

“Yes I will,” Henry gritted his teeth. “Even if-”

“Even if what?” Thomas seethed.

“Even if I have to kill you myself. She was my girl first, and she’s still mine.” Henry left.

“So,” Catherine sighed when the couple walked through the door to the house.

“So?” Jane mimicked.

“I think we shouldn’t tell anyone about the engagement yet. I mean, I love that you’re my fiancee, but-”

“You’re already losing interest in me, aren’t you?” Jane’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Are you stupid? No, I’m not losing interest in you.”

“You know pregnancy brain doesn’t just disappear after the baby escapes the vagina right?”

“Escapes?” The older woman stifled a laugh.

“Yes. I may have been brought back in good health, but my body still has some healing to do,” she said pointedly. “Now, why don’t you want to tell people about our engagement? We already told the girls. Really, the only people we have left are to tell our parents.”

“We couldn’t really avoid telling the girls. But I think we should just let it be for a little. It’ll upstage Eddie.”

“I was wearing my ring when they all came to the hospital,” she argued.

“And no one noticed because they were busy looking at this handsome little boy of ours,” Catherine cooed at the baby in her fiancee’s arms.

“But,” Jane racked her brain for another reason to tell her family. “I like wearing my ring.”

“Jane.”

“You’re right, but I just want to proudly show it off that I’m finally going to be married to the woman I was destined to.”

“In time, you will honey.”

“He’s the first love of my life.”

“I think I’m okay with taking second to him.” The pair watched their child sleep for a few minutes when Catherine’s phone began to ring.

“Take it. I have to feed and put Eddie down anyway. I think I’m going to try and sleep after.”

“Okay. I’ll be in after.” Catherine began to walk away before turning sharply. “Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“I am so in love with you, and I hope you know I will never lose interest in you.”

“I love you too,” Jane smiled as she went to walk up the stairs.

“Do you need any help?” Kat was waiting for her in the hallway.

“I’m just going to feed Eddie and put him down for a nap, but if you want, I would enjoy the company.”

“Okay Mom.” Jane’s heart fluttered when Kat used the term so loosely. She couldn’t wait until Edward would speak those same words.

“Cath here,” she grinned into the phone.

“It’s John. You have a second?”

“Yeah. Janey’s feeding the baby.”

“And she’s in good health still?” The father was quite worried about his daughter.

“From what I can see. The angels or whoever she met kept their promise, and aside from her body changing after giving birth, she seems to be just fine.”

“Good. I’m glad. I wasn’t ready to lose my sweet girl.”

“Neither was I. I’ve been thanking the heavens for keeping her with us.”

“Me too.” The two sat in silence for a few moments before John spoke again. “Did the two of you get engaged and not tell anyone about it?”

“I knew you knew.”

“Of course I knew. I’ve been waiting for a ring on her finger since she told me that she had run away with you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you know,” Catherine laughed. “Between the whole ‘having a child’ thing and then the whole ‘I’m pretty sure the love of my life is going to die and leave me with her newborn son’ thing happening, I didn’t think announcing our engagement at the time was quite right.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But uhm, don’t say anything. We’re trying to keep it quiet for a little bit, at least while Eddie is so new to us all.”

“But Marge and I have some money riding on this and-”

“Wait. You’re telling me that you have a bet going based on your daughter’s love life?”

“Uh,” John stammered. “No?”

“You two really are something.”

“It’s a really good bet though,” the older man practically whined. “I won, and I want my-”

“Please.”

“Fine. But uh, how did you ask her?”

“I asked her not even an hour after Eddie was born. We were talking to a nurse about the name, and they said they would just refer to him as baby boy Seymour. Janey insisted he take my name because I’m going to adopt him anyway, and I just kind of blurted it out. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that though. I just kinda of-”

“She said yes. You’re lucky.”

“Oh I know John. I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

“No, you really are lucky. It must’ve taken me three tries before Marge said yes. Liz’s husband asked her five times, if I can remember correctly. You lucked out on the first try.”

“Well, you know I tried once, but it never got that far.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t have to know about that.”

“She find out about it eventually I’m sure. She always does. And she’ll laugh about it too. I really do love her.”

“I know you do.”

“Ask me why.”

“Why?”

“Just ask.”

“Okay, why do you love my daughter?” John inquired. “You know, I already blessed the marriage. I trust you.”

“I know, but I just need to say this.”

“Okay, on with it Cath.”

“I don’t even really know where to begin. She’s gorgeous, and beautiful, and simply stunning. The way her hair falls when she runs her fingers through her hair drives me insane, and when she has bedhead, I think it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her. I’m never going to tire of waking up next to her. I crack up when she gives me the eyebrow. It’s so cute. Her eyes give away everything. It shows me all I’ll ever need to know about her. They light up when she’s excited, they sparkle when she talks about something she loves.”

“They always did. That’s how I knew she loved you.”

“I-” Catherine didn’t know how to respond, so she continued. “When she scrunches up her nose, I can’t help but stare. When she’s confused or mad, I just can’t help. She’s so endearing. And her smile, oh my gosh. It kills me.”

“That’s how I feel about Margaret’s.”

“I’ve never seen a smile so bright, and so genuine, and so full of hope. I really hope Eddie gets her smile. She’s just so passionate. I’ve never seen a woman so passionate about everything. When she’s happy, she just glows. She has this way about making everyone else feel so much lighter and fuller. You’d have to ask Kat about that. She’s hilarious. God, I’ve never met someone with such a twisted sense of humor, but it’s hilarious. She literally laughed when we were all shocked that she was alive and said, ‘Man, I really had you guys scared’. Like, who even thinks to say that when they just defied the laws of life?”

“She gets that from me.”

“And I love the way that she twiddles her thumbs when she’s nervous. I always know when I can try to help her relax. I love when she talks a mile a minute. She gets so animated, and I have to stop myself from kissing her to get her to take a breath. When she gets mad at me, she puts her hands on her hips and pouts, and I just melt. I can’t stay mad at her for much longer when I see her like that. And her puns? They’re, as she would say, ‘punny’. The rest of the girls in the house just groan, but she loves them so much that I can’t help but laugh. I love when she acts like I’m physically right next to her when we’re actually on the phone and she nods to say yes. I love that she has so many different laughs. I love when she laughs so hard so snorts, and then she continues to laugh and no noise comes out. I love the way that she loves me with her whole heart, or at least I would hope. I love the way that she’s already a mother to Kat and Eddie, and she’s the best mom. It’s just the most amazing thing. She just- god John. I love her so much. I can’t even get into details.”

“Those weren’t details?” John spoke after listening to the entire ten minute rant Catherine had presented him with.

“No. She’s just so incredible. Every little thing she does makes me fall more and more in love with her, and I know if she heard this, she’d tell me I just made up this image of her in my head, but I swear I didn’t. She has this whole universe inside of her. It’s a wonder that she holds in all of her 5’7” body, even though she tells everyone she’s 5’6” because ‘Cath, 5’7” is tall.’ I wish she saw herself the way I see her, but if I have to spend every day telling her why I love her, I’ll do it.”

“Cath, she’s very-”

“You know what though?”

“What?”

“You didn’t ask me why I’m in love with her.”

“Didn’t I?”

“You asked why I love her. There’s a difference.”

“Well, why are you in love with her?”

“I couldn’t tell you exactly why. There’s not just one thing; it’s everything. Words can’t even begin to describe how deeply in love I am with your daughter. I couldn’t- I went over ten years watching the girl I was in love with fall in love with someone else. I watched her get let down time and time again. I thought every New Years, I was going to tell her. I remember the night I found her, all broken and bruised. She was still beautiful. Sick, right? I was there for her through it all and-”

Jane walked in and interrupted, “-And beautiful things really do come from terrible nights. Just like that one song says. Daddy, I need to steal my girlfriend now.”

“Fiancee,” Catherine laughed. “He knows.”

“Of course he does. Dad, I need to steal her. I love you. Bye now!” She hung up the phone. “Eddie’s down for now. Kat is upstairs watching him. He’ll be up soon though because we fell asleep while eating. For now though, you are so incredibly sexy. I heard all of that. All of it, and god, I am so in love with you.” She kissed Catherine deeply and moved down her body.

“Shit Jane. We can’t-”

“We need to stop. I know.”

“Catalina laughed, “Just know that the second you’re cleared...”

“You’re the worst.” The blonde smacked her fiancee lightly.

“How am I the worst? You just came in here and tried to seduce me in the kitchen!”

“Shut up. So, how does Dad know, and is he going to spill to Mom?”

“He told me he’s been looking for a ring since you broke it off with Henry. He saw when they were visiting. And no, I made him swear not to, but you might want to ask him about his bet.”

“A bet?”

“That’s definitely his story to tell. Anyway, do you want to wait to get married or?”

“Lina, you saw how long my last engagement was. Honestly, if we went to the courthouse today I would marry you.”

“You better not have a courthouse wedding!” Anne shouted from the basement.

“Well, I guess we can’t do that,” Jane laughed.

“Guess not. What about August?”

“Like, two months from now August or next year?”

“Two months from now? We can just have family over.”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Who’s going to be whose bridesmaid?” Anne ran up the stairs.

“Hey Marge?”

“What? What happened? I wasn’t trying to- I wasn’t doing anything!” Margaret desperately tried to cover up the fact that she was trying to listen in on her husband’s phone call.

“You're an insane woman. Just call Janey for me and ask her why she loves Cath.”

“Don’t you-”

“I asked Cath, and I learned that woman loves our daughter more than I ever thought was possible.”

“For-”

“Then I asked her why she was in love with her.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“That’s what I thought, but boy was I wrong. I was so, so wrong. That woman is the best for our sweet angel.” John’s eyes sparkled the same way Jane’s did.

“Okay. I’ll ask her tomorrow. Tonight, I made something special for dinner. Come on.”

#six the musical #six musical #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six musical fanfic #six the musical fanfic #aramour

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bunnywand · 4 years

Text

ok so i got asked abt my fav niche bands and i Could have included a couple of these in my answer, but i felt they deserved their own post so that’s what they’re getting 😅

the punk scene means So Much to me, it’s the first place i ever found like, ppl like me, it rly helped me to be okay w/ myself when i was first figuring out my identity, and i’ve met so many Amazing ppl and made so many friends in it so it all just rly means a lot 2 me!! 😭💕

so here’s 10 of my fav bands in the diy/punk scene rn.. 😈 (i put links 2 their bandcamps too!!)

fresh: “punx from london who love emo, shredding, touring, oat milk, and using friendship to fill a gaping uncertain hole inside of yourself” - fresh were the first band in the scene that i discovered and it was thru discovering them that i found the rest of the scene, so they mean a Lot 2 me 😭 they’re Literally one of the best bands i’ve ever heard, they’re just so fucking good!!! (song recommendations: get bent, revenge)

kermes: “anxious rock for the gay agenda” - one of the first bands in the scene i got into after fresh, seeing emily performing was the first time i’d ever seen like, an out and proud trans woman and it was like a lightbulb turning on in my brain i was like “wow.... i could be like her 🤯”.. at Least as important 2 my ~trans journey~ as against me! and probably a lil bit more 😉 (song recommendations: radicals act, i wanna be yr sometimes)

martha: “a pop band from durham city” - one of the coolest bands around, they’ve got 3 albums and they All fuck, i think i rated “love keeps kicking” as my fav album from last yr when i made a post abt it, but if i didn’t i should have 😅 (song recommendations: 1997 passing in the hallway, curly and raquel)

happy accidents: “noisy pop thing from london” - just such a fucking good band, i love them sm and every time i’ve seen them has just been So fun!! 😭 (song recommendations: wait it out, a better plan)

nervus: “queer anarcho-pop” - another band fronted by a cool trans woman (as if all trans women aren’t cool 😉), ffo: hating cops, hating tories (song recommendations: congratulations, they don’t)

the tuts: “3-tone girl band” - fucking incredible band, got 2 see them support bikini kill last yr and it was one of The coolest experiences of my life 🤯💕 (song recommendations: let go of the past, tut tut tut)

colour me wednesday: “indie punk fronted by sisters” - the only band on this list i haven’t got 2 see live yet, but i’m rly excited 4 when i finally get 2 bcos i love them a lot 🤧 (song recommendations: shut, purge your inner tory)

charmpit: “punk starpop anarcho-cuties” - loved them 4 a while, their debut album just came out at the start of the month and it’s definitely one of favs from this year so far 😭💕 (song recommendations: it’s always summer up my skirt, wild wild westfield)

dream nails: “punk witches bringing feminist ragejoy” - a riot grrrl band just w/ such gr8 energy, saw them last yr and it was one of the funnest gigs i’ve ever been 2, their debut album was supposed 2 be coming out this month but it’s been delayed bcos of the pandemic 😭 (song recommendations: vagina police, kiss my fist)

peach club: “riot grrrls from norwich” - another riot grrrl band and the band on this list i’ve got into most recently, saw them at the same gig as dream nails last year and they were Amazing!! 😵 (song recommendations: go away, cherry baby)

bonus!!! - cheerbleederz: “3 pals based in london” - a fun new band, they’ve done 2 ep’s so far but they’re already one of my fav bands ever 🥰 (song recommendations: cabin fever, disco)

thank u 4 reading this if u did, i hope i can help someone discover a new fav band from this!! 🤠💕

#ellie.txt

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heroloverangel · 5 years

Text

Anatomy Lesson

Helping UA’s top student with his homework should be fun, right?

“Alright, what’s this one?”

“The, uh...the belly muscle?”

You groan, throwing your head back in exasperation. “Come on, Togata. We just went over this. It’s the diaphragm.” It’s no secret that Mirio’s grades are awful, and as class representative it feels like your duty to help him study. You’d foolishly assumed you could bring him up to speed in his classes, but you’ve been sitting in his room for over an hour now and it’s like you’re trying to tutor a brick wall with your anatomy notes.

He laughs it off despite your agitation. “Sorry. I’m just not really good with subjects that aren’t tied to hero work.” That’s an understatement; he’s in real danger of having his internship suspended if he doesn’t improve.

“I know, and I’m trying to help you. But you have to focus, okay?” He shoots you a thumbs up and to your delight, actually manages to stay on task for a solid twenty minutes without getting distracted. You still have a lot of work to do with his assignments, but you feel much more confident about it now.

You take a quick break to stretch and arch your back. You unintentionally push your chest forward and catch him staring, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks. You’ve always thought Togata was cute; his friendly face and warm personality are a fantastic combination and the fact that you could use his abs as a cheese grater doesn’t hurt either. On his part, he’s about as subtle with his emotions as a punch to the gut. You’ve seen him accidentally knock Tamaki down a flight of stairs in a rush to offer to share an umbrella. It’s impossible to miss the clear interest he’s showing and you can’t resist teasing him a bit.

“See something you like, Lemillion?” He laughs sheepishly and looks away, concentrating on the book in his lap a little too hard to be convincing.

“Just resting my eyes!” He gives you that bright grin again and you drop the subject. “You’re a super good tutor, I bet I’ll start getting the top scores in the class after all your help!” Mirio flips the textbook forward several chapters to a random page. “Now, let’s get back to work and look at the--oh god.” You look down, curious about what’s shaken him up so much, and you’re greeted by an extremely detailed, graphic drawing of an erect penis. Honestly, it’s almost pornographic and for a second you wonder if Midnight was the one who ordered these books.

This is going to be awkward, but you’ll muscle through it. “Alright. Well, you’ve got the head here, and you can see that the foreskin-”

“We don’t have to do this!” He blurts it out, voice pitched higher with embarrassment. “I mean, I already know enough about my willy! So really, we don’t need to spend any time talking about it!” You’ve never seen him blush this hard before, and you’d be lying if you said you don’t like it. He quicky flips the page in a desperate hope of ending the uncomfortable moment and is tragically denied.

You should have known what the next heading in the book would be. Mirio lets out a defeated whine as the two of you are faced with, of course, an equally graphic picture of a vagina. “I suppose you know enough about this one too, huh?”

He looks straight at the wall, the floor, out the window, anywhere but at you. “Um. Not as much,” he admits hoarsely.

You’re enjoying the sight of him squirming way too much. “Tell me about this part.”

“That’s...that is...it’s the, you know...the clit.” He mumbles every word as if he’s being forced to say it at gunpoint.

“And what is it for?”

“...S-sexual pleasure,” His eyes are screwed shut, refusing to even look in your direction. You’re pretty sure he’s on the verge of just phasing through the floor to escape.

You point towards another sketch on the page, your hand accidentally brushing against his. It’s like he snaps out of a trance and freaks, throwing the book to the floor like it’s covered in spiders. “Haha, well I think that’s enough studying for tonight!”

There’s been a very unheroic idea forming in your mind over the past few minutes and you decide to throw caution out the window. “Not yet. I know you worked hard tonight, but I don’t think you quite get it yet.” He looks at you in confusion and you adjust your position on the bed, moving to sit up on your knees in front of him. “I think you might need a more...personal demonstration of that last one.”

Mirio’s eyes flash with realization just as your fingers slip beneath your skirt to your hips. “Hey, what are you--oh.” He watches you slide your panties down your legs and carefully kick them off without revealing yourself. He swallows and forces himself to look only at your face. “Wait, seriously?” You offer him a reassuring smile and sit back on your ass, slowly opening your thighs to offer him a view of your pussy.

You knew he’d be interested, but you weren’t expected the unwavering focus he’s suddenly directing between your legs. “This is still a lesson, Togata,” you remind him playfully. “I expect your full attention here.”

“Sure thing, sensei!” He scoots closer to you on the bed and reaches a hand out before stopping himself. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

It feels like the room gets 100 degrees hotter but you nod before you have a chance to second-guess yourself. His eyes watch you like a hawk as your hand slips down to spread open your folds, giving him a clear invitation to continue. He licks his lips subconsciously and your breath catches in your throat as his fingers lightly trace over your cunt, much more gentle than you’d expect him to be capable of. Your eyes slip closed while he teases you like this, letting out a shaky moan as he circles your clit for a few seconds before withdrawing. You’re getting wet the more he touches you, and it’s almost a welcome relief when you feel one of his big fingers probe at your entrance.

“Ahh, Mirio,” you gasp out and he stops. You open your eyes out of curiosity and find him debating something with himself for a moment before he suddenly grabs you by the hips and hauls you onto his lap.

“I wanna get it right,” he explains and tugs at your clothes. “I’ve been wanting to do...well, all of this with you for so long.” Your shirt’s being yanked off before you can object and he pulls you in for a deep kiss that leaves you breathless. How are you supposed to argue with such a heartfelt confession? You kiss him again, letting his tongue slide into your mouth at the same time you feel him lifting your skirt to bunch uselessly around your waist. His fingers resume their teasing, one of them slipping fully into your waiting body without hesitation. “You’re so soft,” he smiles at you affectionately as he works you over.

You occupy yourself with his own clothes, pulling at his shirt until you get it open and can run your hands along his sculpted chest. Mirio presses another finger into your pussy and you burrow your face in his neck to hide your whimper. He pumps them inside you, relishing the little sounds he drags out of your lips. “You’re really cute,” he says, voice nice and husky with arousal for you. “Come on,” he pulls you back with his other hand. “Let me hear you.” His thumb brushes against your clit and you cry out for him and squirm on his lap. “You like that, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you pant out. “Just keep touching me like that. Please, Mirio.” Your hands roam over his muscular frame, one coming to rest on his abdomen and sliding down until you can feel the throb of his erection through his clothes. With unsteady fingers you manage to pull the zipper down and get a glimpse of him. The outline of his thick cock is obvious, straining eagery against his boxer-briefs and leaving a stain of precum on the fabric. “Oh, Togata. No wonder you’re failing, there’s no blood going to your brain.” He barks out a laugh at your joke that quickly morphs into a rough groan as you squeeze him over his underwear.

“Good thing I have you then, isn’t it?” He’s merciless on your clit, rubbing firm circles against your swollen bud, drawing more of those sweet little noises out of you that leave his dick aching for more. He pushes a third finger in easily, you’re already soaked and dripping down his palm. The added stretch is amazing and you can feel white-hot tension low in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

He’s watching the scene in front of him with clear delight; the sight of you riding his hand and knowing you’re loving every second of his attention might be the highlight of his life. “Don’t stop,” you beg mindlessly. “Just a little more, please. You feel so good, just like that. Mirio, I-” His mouth crashes down on yours again, wanting to savor your orgasm all to himself. He feels the way your muscles flutter invitingly around his fingers, milking them for more stimulation as you shudder through your climax.

You come back from your high to find your face resting against his firm pecs and his fingers motionless but still buried inside your sensitive cunt. He gives you a warm grin and flexes them teasingly before withdrawing, making a big show of lifting his hand to his mouth and happily licking up every drop of your juices. “Pervert,” you taunt, but there’s no anger in your words and you don’t object when hie grabs you around your hips and pulls you farther up on his broad thighs.

“How far am I allowed to take this?” You can feel the heat radiating off his body, raw desire obvious in every toned muscle.

You chew your lip thoughtfully. “As far as you want,” you decide after a moment. In the blink of an eye he’s phased through his clothes and reformed under you before your legs can even hit the bed. It’s a bit difficult to wiggle out of your skirt without losing contact with him but you manage, and you’re even willing to ignore the sound of a strap being torn completely off your bra in his haste to free you from it. The two of you look each other over for a second, both feeling just a little awkward about progressing into actual sex and then-

“I like your nipples,” Mirio blurts out, destroying the tension immediately. You can’t help but burst into laughter at his outburst and guide one of his warm hands up to grope your chest. Mood restored, there’s only excitement and butterflies in your stomach as you reach for his cock, standing ready and erect against your thigh. His free hand holds you hip to support you as you line him up and slowly sink down onto him. You give yourself a minute to take a breath and adjust to his size, sighing at just how full you feel, with him buried to the hilt in your pussy like this. He’s waiting for your permission, and there’s a spark of fire in his eyes when you begin to move.

You’ve barely managed to set a rhythm before he takes over, not so subtly demanding more from you. Strong hands grip onto your ass, working you up and down his dick with little effort on your part. You reach for his shoulders for support and find yourself fixating on the impressive arms caging around you. You watch the thick muscles of his biceps flex with every move, coupled with the feel of his strong thighs catching you every time he drags you down to bottom out inside you, together has you seeing stars. Eventually you drag your focus up to his face and see he’s equally interested in the sight of your breasts jiggling with the force of his movements, meeting your gaze with an unashamed smirk. “You alright there? I’m not being too rough, am I?”

It’s sweet that he makes the effort to check on you, even in the heat of the moment. “You’re good. You’re--ah!” You’re interrupted by an especially energetic thrust, voice cracking into a jittery gasp. “Really, really good.”

His lips are on yours once again without a second thought. “I could kiss you forever,” he admits, surprisingly romantic as he angles you back a bit to get a better view of your dripping cunt taking him over and over. “God, you’re squeezing me so tight.” You can’t hide your moan, the tingle that goes through your spine at his comment. Mirio picks up on it immediately and can’t resist teasing you a bit. “You like that? Hearing how good you make me feel?” He brings a hand up to your face, lifts your chin to look at him. “Who knew you’re so cute when you get all blushy like this?” You wonder if he’s just trying to goad you into more kisses, but it proves to be a good way of shutting him up.

It’s hard to keep up with a man who has seemingly infinite stamina and it’s not long before it all threatens to overwhelm you. You slide a hand down between your bodies, intending to push yourself over the edge but he catches your wrist in a firm grip instead. “Hold on,” he warns, never slowing in his pace; his cock is rubbing against a sensitive spot inside you with every thrust and it’s driving you mad. “I’m getting really close, do you want me to pull out?”

You don’t even have a single brain cell left to waste on debating it. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

Mirio groans into your neck and releases your hand to wrap his arms tighter around you. “You’re so great,” he huffs out, lips trailing over your jaw like he’s addicted to the taste of your skin. He watches as you slip your fingers down to stroke your clit and between your movements and all his attention, it barely takes you a minute before you’re shivering with your climax. You’re hardly aware of the constant, steady rhythm of his thrusts growing increasingly sloppy; all you can focus on is how good he feels surrounding you, inside you, on the verge of filling you up and you love it. It takes you a second to realize he’s talking you through it, tone warm and rough as he mindlessly praises you. “So...so sweet, and pretty....smart and cute, nice and tight and wet for me…oh, shit...”

His words devolve into a needy growl, hips stuttering wildly underneath you and it takes all the control he still has to stop himself from digging bruises into your body. He ruts up into you one last time, fast and hard and you can feel his dick twitch within you, spilling warm cum deep inside your cunt.

You stay like this for a minute or two, listening to each other’s breathing slow and calm down. You glance up at his face, a little worried this might be an awkward ending to your hands-on demonstration, but the moment you lock eyes you both burst out laughing.

“That was fun,” you manage out through giggles. “I hope you learned something from that lesson.”

He nods, wide grin beaming on his face. “Class rep is a real pervert and likes it when I fill her up.”

You snort; it’s a good enough answer for tonight. Carefully you climb off him, your thighs aching from being spread open on his lap and your legs having a distinct jello-like feel to them. Mirio helps you gather your discarded clothes, apologizes sincerely for ruining your bra and promises to buy you a new one. You look around for your underwear, and to your surprise an arm snakes around your waist and your equally naked classmate hugs you against his chest.

“So…” He rests his head on your shoulder and you instinctively lean into him. “Are we dating now? I mean, do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He’s still smiling, but you can tell he’s serious. “I meant it earlier, about how long I wanted to do this. I don’t know if you noticed, I’m pretty sneaky about it, but I’ve kinda had a huge crush on you forever.”

“Never would have guessed,” you joke, tracing your fingers over his arm. “I’d like that-” You hold up a finger before he can celebrate. “-but you have to get your grades up and pass your classes, okay?”

Your new boyfriend agrees without a moment of hesitation. “I can totally do that! I’ll be the best student in the school in a week, just watch!” You admire his enthusiasm, getting caught up in his mood and find yourself pulled back into his bed before you have a chance to question it. “Can we study again? And hey, you should sleep over, that way we can have another lesson before class in the morning!”

You roll your eyes but your arms reach up to pull him on top of you. You’re not worried about his scores anymore, you know he’ll pull it off now that he’s properly motivated.

#lemon #mirio togata #bnha x reader #mirio togata x reader

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loxxxlay · 4 years

Text

100 word meme

hiii, so I’ve been wanting to try this for a while since it seems to work out really well for @veliseraptor and i feel like it’d work out well for me too? so gonna give it a shot

rules are you vote for a fic and i write 100 words in it. so basically if u want a fic posted faster, vote for it, because a vote means i’ll actually work on it (hopefully XD). it’s mostly just a helpful way for me to have tangible goals that i can work toward without having to make decisions about what those goals are myself XD

[edit: oh yeah you can vote for up to 3]

so without further ado, here’s the list (as is traditional, with bonus excerpts as a reward for helping me with executive brain functions lmfao):

1. (Figment of Choice) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

“Oh, but dear, if I had known it’d be like this, I would have had you change ages ago. You’re simply beautiful!” He smiled and ran the ends of his fingers down Loki’s jaw.

Loki resisted the urge to bite them. Monster, he thought. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Please,” he begged. “Please don’t do this to me—”

“Loki, we’ve talked about this.” The Grandmaster made a disapproving clicking noise with his tongue. “Yesterday even. Didn’t I specifically tell your brother how I prefer those who are willing. Those who enjoy what Sakaar has to offer. What I have to offer. Are you telling me you’re not one of those people?”

“Yes,” Loki said by habit; then, “I mean, no—no, I am, I just—I don’t think—I can’t—”

“Shhh,” the Grandmaster said. “You know how much I hate hearing don’t and can’t. Come along, sweetheart, get up. As lovely as you are, I’m not only here for you. Time’s a’ticking.”

2. (The troy and lola story of my soul) [tw implied noncon/dubcon and csa]

Troy watched his friend disappear into his carriage, and then he watched a butterfly trail from flower to flower, and then he watched the sun approach the white mountains in the distance. His legs ached with the strain of standing as he watched, but he didn’t move. Moving would mean admitting the fact that his twin had been suffering for years. Suffering the same torment he himself had escaped. Moving would mean having to face the fact that his brother (sister?) might resent him.

As he stood, he tried—he focused his entire mind upon an imagined woman lying nude in the lounge of a brothel. He tried to feel what she felt. He tried to feel the weight of a body on top of his or the repetitive aching of his insides. He tried to feel the unbearable numbness infecting his limbs with cold. But there was nothing, no sense of life from his twin. Nothing except the ghosts of his own memories.

“My Lord,” Margaret called from the patio, “won’t you come inside?”

Troy sighed but didn’t turn. “You know to call me Theodore.”

“It’s cold out here,” Margaret said as if she hadn’t heard. “At least let me fetch your cloak.”

Troy didn’t answer, and a moment later, he heard the door bang shut. He waited a bit longer. For what? He didn’t know. But then the crickets started chirping, and the chill of nighttime wind raised goosebumps on his arms, and he managed to stomach his fear and turn to face the house.

3. (Forget Me Not, Remember Still) [tw domestic abuse, grandthorki shenanigans]

“You look so sad,” Thor said, and Loki hated that his voice sounded at all like the Grandmaster’s. “What’s bothering you?”

Unsure whether it was safe to answer, Loki pressed his lips together.

“Tell me,” Thor said, just as gently, but—Loki could sense the difference in his patience.

He took a breath. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s something,” Thor argued. “Now tell me—or do I have to remind you what happens when you try to think for yourself.”

Loki steeled himself against a flinch. Almost subconsciously, his hand came up and his fingers pressed against the bruises at his neck. The shirt he’d wanted to wear would have covered them, but this—it exposed him. It made him look weak, like a victim—and truly, was he not a victim now? Was he not being abused?

Wincing, he looked away from the mirror before the sight of himself could make him cry.

“Oh, Loki,” Thor said. “You’ve made some mistakes. All those marks show is that you’ve learned better. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

To you, Loki thought, and then shut the thought off.

4. (On Our Terms) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

The Grandmaster sighed loudly. “I don’t mean to offend you, but your society sounds quite borish.”

“It is,” the Valkyrie said, “but it’s the one we got, and I doubt you have room for three thousand potentially borish people here, so . . .”

“Yes, yes, your point has been made,” the Grandmaster said. “But you see—I’ve grown quite fond of these two, and I’m not quite sure if I want to let them go. Especially since they seem so eager to stay.”

“Yeah, I get it. So what’s your price?” she asked in a casual tone.

“My price? Goodness, gracious! I’m not the type to just sell these poor boys to the highest bidder. My dear dear 142, you should know better than to suggest such a thing! Absolutely unbelievable.”

There was a silence. Loki held his breath, closed his eyes, and tried not to think. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t matter what he did. It wouldn’t matter what he said. In fact, it might make things worse if he spoke, and things were already bad enough. The best he could do was keep silent and be good and just . . . wait. Wait to be dragged back into their nightmare.

Under the table, Thor’s free hand slipped around his and squeezed. Loki was numb, too numb, to care. He didn’t squeeze back.

At last, the Grandmaster gave a long put-upon sigh. “I suppose, I might be more . . . favorable to your wishes if you were to, hmm. Play a game with me.”

The Valkyrie shifted in her seat. “What kind of game?”

5. (thor ficlet whumptober chapter 4) [tw past noncon]

With a deep breath, Thor slipped on a robe over his nightshirt and pants (he no longer slept without a shirt), and headed toward the door. There was one person, in all of Asgard, besides her, who knew. His brother had every right to be angry. Even now, Thor remembered the things he had said the night before—before—and those had been his own words, not hers.

As he came to the door, feeling small and afraid, he remembered the morning after. How Loki had begged him for an apology and had not received one. How Thor had stood on the other side, unable to be anything but callous and cold. Their positions were reversed now. Thor prayed his brother would be more kind.

Trembling, he knocked.

Loki answered the door, not a minute later, robed in black and green, hair curly and disheveled. “Yes?” he said as he rubbed his eyes—and then, before Thor could answer, his face smoothed and his eyebrows furrowed low and angry on his face. “Did she try something again?”

“No,” Thor rushed to say, but Loki’s expression didn’t soften. Cheeks aflame, Thor fixed his gaze on the golden stone archway of the door and studied its numerous ridges and cracks. “I can’t—sleep,” he managed. “That—bed—” His throat felt hoarse. He returned his gaze to his brother and tried not to let the desperation seep into his voice. “I’m afraid to sleep alone.”

6. (IW AU thor whump) [tw violence]

“Let me make this clear,” Thor said. He ripped a strip of cloth free from his cape and toyed with it between his hands. “I follow the doctrine of my master because it’s what I believe. But even if I didn’t? Even if you somehow managed to convince me otherwise?” Thor lifted the red cloth and pressed it between the bones of her jaw. “I would follow him anyway. There is not one single thing you could say to dissuade me from his offer, universe be damned.” He tied the cloth in a knot on the back of her head. “Do you understand?”

Eyes blazing, Gamora kneed him in the thigh.

Thor stumbled. His heart sped, as he realized she’d been aiming for his crotch, and in a burst of rage, his hand clenched into a fist and raised in the air—trembling and white-knuckled and desperate to hit her back.

He didn’t do it.

There was something in her face that sparked a memory in him—one of Loki, handcuffed and bright-eyed and braced for a blow on the Asgardian skiff. The time they’d gone to avenge a mother who had left them alone too soon. The time Loki (seemed to have) died. For a shocking moment, the woman in front of Thor looked just like his brother. From the the tension in her shoulders, to the set in her lips, and to the glassiness of her wide eyes.

He lowered his fist. Grief cascaded over him, and it weighed like bricks on his chest and needles in his heart. In a count to ten, Thor reminded himself of the doctrine and of Thanos’s offer—the gauntlet, with all five Infinity Stones, would resurrect his brother. This woman—this traitor—couldn’t. The choice was easy.

“Get some rest,” he said, numb and cold. “Xandar is several hours away.”

7. (Zombie Post Apoc Novel) [tw grosss vagina shit, implied noncon]

At night, Helen catches her in the bathroom. The door is cracked open, and Cassandra is standing, one foot planted on the tub’s ledge and the other foot on the floor. Her hand is between her thighs and she’s holding the lighter under her clit, until the air sizzles with the smell of burnt flesh. She comes like that. Helen knows because tears leak from Cassandra’s face whenever her orgasm is real.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra whispers when she notices Helen watching. “I have to.”

And Helen doesn’t bother arguing. Larry may dead, but there are countless Larry’s, and even if there aren’t, Andrew hovers in their room sleeping on their bed. Something has to burn. So Helen just closes the door behind her, turns on the vent to clear the smell, and grabs Neosporin from a drawer under the sink.

Cassandra sits on the bathtub ledge. “Maybe we should stay,” she whispers. “Maybe it really is better here.”

Helen kneels on the bathroom tile. “You’re gonna kill yourself if we stay here, babe.” Then she rubs the Neosporin over the folds of her sister’s vagina, and when the burns are good and treated, tears of ecstasy leak down Cassandra’s face.

In the silence that follows, Cassandra bites her lip. “If it comes to it… I don’t know that I could pull the trigger.”

“You can,” Helen says. “Just pretend you’re holding a lighter.”

8. (Moment of Peace)

#gonna do a blanket tag of #cw noncon #because most of these fics have it lol #but each is tagged individually #lox talks personal #fic excerpt #placeholder writing tag #ask thing

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