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#god forgive me
diamondzart · 1 year
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I genuinely wasn’t going to search up Bowuigi fanfiction OUT OF PURE SCIENTIFIC INTEREST I SWEAR
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And now I’m laughing my ass off over this tag, I’m so sorry I have no idea how I ended up here 🤣🤣🤣
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hyungszn · 9 months
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hot to trot | ft. changbin
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summary; changbin’s top line outfit makes you act up.
rating; e for explicit
pairing; seo changbin x reader
author’s note; once again, i have nothing to say for myself. big apologies to changbin. it’s not your fault that you’re exactly my type and i’m completely delusional over it. title has jackshit to do with the fic, idk the word count bc i wrote this in drafts, and it is NOT edited, as per usual. maybe i’ll change the banner once better stills come out.
warnings; essentially porn without plot, copious amounts of body fluids (what’s new), wap!reader (again, what’s new?), riding, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, changbin’s cowboy hat, established relationship, mentions of 3RACHA + reader, mentions of ot8 + reader, one mention of a flaccid penis, animal references (not beastiality.. it’ll make sense when you get there), daddy kink (apologies but if you know me, then there’s really no surprise), joking during sex, dirty talk, breeding kink/pregnancy mentions, squirting, brief appearance of primal play/kink (think predator/prey), d/s dynamics, and i think that’s it but if i missed something just… let me know 🥹
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“bin, bin, bin!” you squeal, head dropping to meet the back of the sofa.
changbin only grunts, thick arms wrapping around your waist as he slides further down the cushion. your pretty, little cunt is squeezing him so hard; he can’t believe you’re this worked up over a single fingerless glove and a cowboy hat. well, actually, he can, but that’s besides the point.
the black vale state tee is sticking to him uncomfortably, cowboy hat no longer sitting atop his head as it should. the brim digs into his neck awkwardly and his sweat-drenched fringe is getting caught in his eyelashes but it would take the grip of satan himself to get him to stop fucking up into you. no way he’s gonna let a little wardrobe malfunction keep him from making this pussy cream all over him like it’s begging for. absolutely no chance in hell.
“binnie, binnie,” you pant, looking over your shoulder and down at the way his wrists cross over one another so his hands can squeeze at your ass. “so so good! look s’good, feel s’nice.”
“shit, yeah?” he asks, hugging you to him even tighter. “fuck, baby. the hat, take the hat for me,” he begs, unable to drive his cock into your pussy the way he wants.
you listen — always a good listener for him — and pull the cap from his head like he asked. you whine because he has to stop to readjust the two of you again, but he just shushes you, presses a sloppy kiss to your mouth in apology.
“just,” he huffs, thick hands gripping your plushy hips to pull you onto your knees. “give me a second, baby; i’ll get you right.”
you don’t know what compels you to do it, but in the time it takes for changbin to get comfortable with his back most flat against the couch, you’ve slipped the cowboy hat onto your own head. it sits askew because of your hair, but it still makes changbin’s monkey brain holler like tarzan, stroking some weird possessive desire he wasn’t aware he had.
“fuck, baby,” he croaks, grip on your hips tightening as he thrusts up into you again. “you look so pretty, prettiest rider with the prettiest pussy.”
you gasp, swiveling your hips as your eyes glaze over, gripping changbin’s biceps for dear life. he pumps his hips so quickly, nearly gone feral at the sight of you — his pretty, little cowgirl with her bouncy tits and creamy pussy. you’re not even riding him, not really, but it doesn’t matter. the pretense of it is enough to make changbin want to fill your cunt to the hilt with his cum over and over again. besides, who wouldn’t when faced with the picture you make? sitting all pretty on your knees and letting him hold you up, all naked and whiny with your soppy, swollen pussy gushing all over his dick every time he so much as twitches inside of you.
you look at him with heavy, lidded eyes. your bottom lip is tucked tight between your teeth but it does nothing to hinder your sounds, high pitched mewls and squeals as you pinch and pull at your own nipples, working yourself into a frenzy alongside changbin’s thick cock. he wants to devour you, so many places he wants to touch, lick and bite. your pretty body drives him insane and he’s infuriated that he doesn’t have enough hands to do everything, wonders briefly if one of the boys would want to help out, before he has to reign himself in or risk nutting too quickly. it’s not that changbin has the desire to be cucked, nor is there a desire to open your relationship, but stray kids are his family. the boys are like extensions of himself and they adore you just as much, so why wouldn’t he want to take care of you — of them — this way? why wouldn’t he want to overwhelm you with pleasure and in turn, share his greatest, most prized possession with the ones that love him most (second only to you and his parents).
“g-god, you’re pretty, baby,” he praises, watching your jaw go slack. “so pretty on my cock.”
“mhm!” you sigh, rolling your hips into changbin’s thrusts. “pretty for you,” you mewl, tucking your chin to glance where the two of you are connected, “just for daddy.”
“shit,” changbin grunts, faltering the slightest bit as he decides to throw caution to the wind. “gonna cream in this little cunt,” a harsh smack to your ass causes you to keen loudly, “give my pretty baby a real reason to call me daddy.”
the thought of being bred — a mare to his stallion — makes your pussy clench. neither of you are quite ready for kids at this point, but it doesn’t mean there isn’t the aching want there for the future. you’d bear changbin all the children he wants, give him a baby every year if that’s what he asked for, let him keep you barefoot and pregnant for years, a pretty pet to be ridden hard and put away wet.
your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, but changbin already knows how you feel about that. he doesn’t necessarily have a daddy kink the way you do, but he’d be lying if he said the title didn’t do anything for him when it’s coming from you. it’s less about the title itself and more about his desire to take care of you, but if he’s being honest with himself, it’s probably the title too, at least a little bit.
while lost in thought, he must have slacked on his movement because you’re whining now, eagerly pushing yourself on and off of his lap in an attempt to bring yourself to the edge. it’s cute, the way you pout and sob, not able to get the momentum or angle that satisfies you, not the way your changbin can.
“binnie,” you huff, clawing at his cotton covered shoulders. “changbin, please.”
he clucks his tongue, blowing bangs out of his eyes. “yah! that’s not what you were calling me!”
you’d laugh at his pout if you weren’t so desperate to get off, but you are. still you produce a pout of your own, settling in his lap with your full weight.
“please,” you beg, leaning forward and dangling your tits in his face. “been so good, haven’t i, daddy? don’t you wanna make me come?”
he does, probably more than he wants to come himself. so he nods, uses all his might to lift you back up so that he can pump his hips back into a steady rhythm, one that makes you moan out and your eyes roll back in your head. he can feel his balls tightening with each sloppy squelch of your cunt, orgasm drawing nearer and nearer with each ravenous spasm of your walls.
“daddy,” you sob, hat barely hanging on your head. “daddy, daddy, daddy! gonna make me come. g’na make me come s’good.”
your babbling makes changbin insane, setting flames alight in his tummy. the muscles in his stomach jump and his thighs flex, straining with effort to maintain a rhythm that’ll have you coming hard enough to jump dimensions.
“touch your clit for me, baby, hmm? c’mon touch your clit for daddy.”
you nod frantically, licking two of your own fingers and stuffing them between your folds. your cunt twitches with the extra attention, walls fluttering around changbin’s cock and giving away your oncoming orgasm.
“just like that,” changbin mutters, eyes dropping to the way he spears you open, your slick covering his pelvis in a pearlescent sheen. “come on that dick, baby. show daddy who owns this sweet cunt. show me how good you are.”
“good for you,” you mumble, eyes nearly crossing with the harsh way you rub at your slippery and engorged clit. “always good for you, always good for daddy. daddy’s cunt, daddy owns this cunt,” you slur, and changbin doubles his efforts because he can feel you on the brink, ready to tumble over any second. “i’m g’na come, fuck, daddy’s gonna make this pussy come.”
and he does. there’s only one last strong thrust before you’re trembling so hard he thinks you’re crying, pussy spasming wildly as it milks his cock, triggering his own orgasm. you’re so loud when you finish, a squeal that would make changbin slap a palm over your mouth to prevent you from being heard if he had any braincells left. instead he’s twitching in his own aftermath, filthy praises of how tight and wet and warm your cunt is for him.
“so much for being a man of principles,” you tease, flopping forward as you wait for the numbness that always follows after a mind-blowing orgasm to fade.
“hey!” changbin screeches, hips jostling you in your place. “i am still very principled! it’s not my fault you’re a temptress!”
you swat at him, giggling and pressing kisses to his dimples. you love him so much. even when he’s loud and blaming this on you like he didn’t enjoy it, like he wasn’t the one who started it by looking so scrumptious in a that stupid ass outfit in the first place.
“i take it you liked the fit, though?” he jokes, eyebrows wiggling.
“mhm,” you hum, kissing him just because you can and running your hands over his pecs. “you looked so good, daddy,” you grin, feeling his cock twitch inside you where he’s still seated. you bite his bottom lip and tug, feeling the heat lick at your belly once more. “you all looked so good.”
changbin’s eyebrows furrow and raise at your admission, something electric stirring in his gut as an earlier thought re-enters his brain. he rumbles, something like a deep purr, and feels his dick hardening a bit quicker. you definitely notice, if your swaying hips are any indication. changbin shakes his head, keeping you pinned to his chest as he slowly fucks up into you again, forcing the mixture of his cum and yours to bubble out around his dick.
“think so?” he rasps, mouth working along your jaw and throat. “did you think about anyone else fucking this pretty pussy open in their stage fit or was it just me? hm? don’t get shy on me now, baby. tell me who else you’d let inside this greedy, little pussy?”
“binnie,” you whimper, gripping his dick like a vice. unsure of his intentions, you only shake your head, denying anything of the sort. “your pussy. want only you inside.”
changbin huffs, thrusting up into you hard and fast for a few moments before slowing back down. you’re a mess, brain melting out of your ears from how good his dick feels inside. you want to come; you want changbin to make you come all over his cock again.
“please,” you whine, blinking down at your boyfriend pitifully. “wanna come, binnie, wanna make a mess.”
“yeah,” changbin hums, fucking you in earnest. “you go ahead and come whenever you want, baby,” he coos, corkscrewing his hips in a manner that hits the soft, spongy spot inside of you whenever he pushes in.
you can only sigh happily, let changbin do all the work as you slowly fall apart once more. he doesn’t mind, not really. daddy likes taking care of his princess — likes taking real good care of that delicious, little cunt of yours too.
“mmm, daddy,” you moan, tits rubbing against the vinyl of changbin’s shirt, clit stimulated by the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. “your dick’s so good,” he feels you clench, droopy eyes squeezing shut as a shudder rocks through you. “big ‘n thick, feels so, so good inside me. i’m gonna come again?” there’s a questioning lilt in your voice like you’re confused by the onset of it, but you laugh and moan nonetheless. “god, you make me come so easy.”
“yeah,” changbin confirms, ready to burst himself. “wonder if channie hyung could make you come as easily? no? what about hannie? think our little quokka could make you come as nicely?”
the mention of changbin’s closest members makes your orgasm rear its head before you’re mentally prepared for it, thrashing and screaming in changbin’s hold. he holds steady, grip on you tight even as he fucks up into your cunt meanly, jack hammering his hips to heighten your climax while hurrying his along.
you’ve quite literally soaked him when all is said and done, leaving a puddle on his black tee, splatters of your release dripping to the floor. he’s filled you up again, smoothing his large hands over your hips and back in soothing swipes, careful not to irritate your (likely) sore pussy any more than he already has. there’s drool on your chin and your eyes are glossy, a wild, yet adoring look in them.
“you know,” changbin begins, smoothing your hair down where it’s begun to frizz up. “if i wasn’t so confident about being the absolute love of your life, i’d be concerned about how hard you come from me talking about my band members when my dick’s inside you.”
you laugh with a snort, loud and ugly, and changbin feels so in love that he could explode. when your laughing fit calms, you shrug, caressing his jaw with lazy hands. you dislodge yourself from his lap, torn between a giddy smile and a grimace when gravity does its things and causes cum and slick to run down your legs.
“what can i say,” you start, rolling onto your back beside changbin and trying not to launch yourself into another laughing fit, “i have a thing for short men.”
“hey! i am not short! you take that back!” changbin hollers, moving to chase after you since you’ve suddenly decided to book it to the other side of the dressing room after that comment.
you’re almost successful at stifling your laughter but then your boyfriend squeals, nearly slipping in the puddle you’ve left on the floor, and all you see are his muscular arms flailing in order to hold himself steady, dick flopping around like a fish out of water. laughter peels out of you, leaving you heaving against a random stool. changbin looks ridiculous, shirt in disarray, hair matted to his forehead, nothing but socks on from the waist down. he glares at you from across the way, hands on his thick hips as he surveys your surroundings.
“careful daddy, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. you need those little legs for your performance tomorrow.”
his growl is loud and you can’t suppress the shiver passing through you when you hear it, nor can you hide the quiver in your thighs when he tilts and rolls his neck, popping the joints before fixing you with narrowed eyes. if looks could carry out actions, you’re sure you’d be pinned to the floor, split open on that rapidly filling cock and begging for forgiveness. they can’t though, so you smirk, standing up straight and moving your naked body back into changbin’s full line of sight.
“what’s the matter, binnie? legs too short for you to move quickly? afraid you won’t be able to catch me?”
your boyfriend shakes his head and grins. only his baby would have the nerve to mouth off this much after coming, only you would dangle that sexy, little body in front of him like a tease. you forget he’s an apex predator where you’re concerned, well versed in putting you in your place even if he enjoys your pokes and banter.
“oh baby,” he croons, hungry, brown irises raking over your body. “better get a head start if you’re gonna run ‘cause when i catch you—“
“if you catch me,” you tease, slowly putting distance between the two of you.
“when i catch you,” he continues, licking his lips, “you’re gonna wish you’d kept that perfect mouth shut.”
“that’s it?”
“no,” he says, not elaborating. “but i think it’ll be better if i show you.”
your belly rolls— fear, adrenaline, and arousal mixing dangerously within your veins. he’s so sexy; you want him to own you again. however, it wouldn’t be as fun if you weren’t a brat until the end, so you snort, huffing a breathy laugh as if your boyfriend has told a ridiculous joke.
“sure thing,” you nod, “whatever you say, shortie.”
“five, four,” changbin begins.
“what is this? hide and seek?”
“three, two,” he continues to count, no longer playing into your games.
“one,” you whisper playfully, the look in your eyes screaming, “come and get me.”
“now run,” changbin rumbles, sending a thrill to the pit of your stomach.
he watches you turn tail and hears your giggle, taking after you once he’s deemed you’ve had a good enough head start. the room isn’t that large, so you can’t get far, but he lets you pretend. after all, fucking you for a third time will be so much sweeter that way. and boy, he cannot wait to fuck all that sass right out of you.
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© hyungszn 2023; please do not copy, steal, repost, modify, translate, or recommend on any other platform without my permission!
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ruthytwoshakes · 3 months
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adhd to autism communication
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acciopietro · 2 years
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Ok so I just read your “Bad Idea” smut and it was amazing! Can you do one where the roles are reversed? Like y/n has the sex pollen infect her?
combining with request #2: Hey 🧍🏻‍♀��� this is my first time ever requesting smut so- I feel super awkward 😅, I was wondering if you could write Pietro maximoff eating (fem?) reader out on a couch (or gn reader, anything you want :)
a week’s isolation - p.m.
pairing: pietro maximoff x fem! reader
summary: the strange plant thor brought to earth from asgard is housed in the lab on the upmost floor of the compound, it’s pollen safely contained; your room, however, is right below it. too bad they forgot to seal the vents.
word count: 3,878
tw: smut smut smut. oral (f receiving). apologizing in advance. both parties are 18+ and consenting adults!!!!
a/n: takes place in between the age of ultron/civil war era. pietro and wanda are adults but still young! i haven’t written smut in such a long time so forgive me for the long time it took to get this posted. i get embarrassed when writing shit like this so it takes me twice as long since after every word i have to close my computer and take a lap around my room. hope u enjoy :)
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“DOES EVERYONE UNDERSTAND?” FINISHED BANNER as he stood before the team, his face flushed and his eyes wide. Pietro had been half-listening for the first portion of the man’s speech, but at the sound of the words “highly dangerous” and “do not go near it”, his interest had been inevitably piqued.
Pietro fiddled with the string bracelet on his wrist, eyes drifting across the long, meeting table. You were sat next to the head of the table, hair daintily curved along the edges of your face, hands folded on the edge of the table, lips pressed together in thought. He blinked before he could get too lost in you; it had happened before and he didn’t feel like getting caught staring again.
A chorus of yes’s and head nods washed over the team, followed by a short moment of awkward silence as they individually considered the strangeness of the situation that was now in their midst. Pietro sent a tired glance to Wanda, who rolled her eyes and mouthed Pay attention!
“I need you all to seriously recognize the dangers this plant might cause,” Banner went on after the group gave their half-assed acknowledgements of their understanding. “Thor brought this here on accident, and it is only he and other Asgardians that are immune to it. We’re only trying to find a proper, safe way of disposing it, maybe even using a way to harness it’s pollen without... well, killing ourselves.”
“Why can’t Thor just bring it back up to Asgard?” Barton asked, scratching his chin. Shifting in his chair, he said, “I feel like that should be discussed.”
“The issue with that, Barton, is that it’s pollen has already begun to cling onto other things. Our plants, here on Earth, need some kind of vector to move their pollen from place to place, like insects or wind. On Asgard, or at least with this plant, it’s very different,” Banner explained. “The pollen acts almost like a virus, one that clings onto surfaces and grows. We don’t know how to kill this virus, so it’s harder to manage than normal pollen.”
Pietro watched you raise your hand; always so quiet, so polite, you were. It was endearing, he thought, watching you always behave so accordingly. The only time he ever saw you lose yourself was in the heat of a fight, when fists would fly and guns were drawn. It was a treat to see you in such a state, a rarity.
“Y/N? You have a question?”
“The pollen isn’t spreading into the compound, is it?” you asked carefully, something in your voice telling Pietro you were nervous. “Should I be worried?”
“No, we’ve done our very best to contain it,” Banner reassured you; Pietro watched your shoulders deflate. “As long as you all stay away from the lab, you’ll be just fine. And anyone who enters the lab will need to wear facial coverings. I’d even go as far as to say we should invest in more hazmat suits.”
“It’s not that extreme, is it?” Steve Rogers asked in disbelief. “I mean, hazmat suits? C’mon, Banner, what’s the big fuss?”
“The big fuss?” Banner gave a dry scoff. “The big fuss, Cap, is that if you’re exposed to the pollen, it’ll make your mind go into such a sex-driven frenzy that you’ll lose touch with goddamn reality! Do you want that? Because I seriously doubt you want that!”
A wave of silence washed over the room. Steve pressed his lips in a thin line, his nose dusted pink, and said nothing in response, only slowly shaking his head.
“We get it,” Natasha Romanoff spoke up after everyone spent a moment of clearing their throats and adjusting their chairs. “Stay away from big, scary plant.”
Bruce opened his mouth to keep going, but Tony Stark placed a hand on his shoulder.
“They get it,” Stark said. “We’ll change the password to the lab, anyways. J.A.R.V.I.S. will make sure no one goes in.”
All the members fizzled off, going their separate ways. Banner, Stark, and Thor ventured up towards the lab, the latter the only one not donned in a white hazmat suit. Wanda scooted her chair closer to yours, nudging your shoulder.
“Interesting, huh?” she commented. “Wonder what they do with them in Asgard.”
“S’probably like a drug,” Pietro chimed in, dragging his chair towards the two girls’ and sitting backwards on it, legs spread, hands dangling on the back of the chair. You crossed your legs, one folded gingerly over the other, the glossy black toe of your Mary Janes brushing his knee. “No doubt they get a shit ton of that pollen stuff and sell it.”
“I thought Asgardians were immune to it?” you said. Pietro paused.
“Well, maybe if they take a lot of it, it’s like that weird stuff you Americans have. Viagra. Helps it stay up, you know,” Pietro joked, to which Wanda whacked him on the shoulder. “What? Just a hypothesis.”
“Don’t be so crude,” Wanda chastised him. You giggled, the apples of your cheeks rose dusted. Pietro’s lips curled up at your reaction; you glanced over at him, matching his smile, before glancing back down at your lap. “Let’s just stay away from the lab for next few weeks or so. Play it safe.”
“I wanna see it,” Pietro ran a hand through the icy blonde tips of his hair. Your eyes widened a bit. “I’m curious now, y’know? I mean, what’s a sex plant supposed to even look like?”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Pietro,” you told him carefully, the sound of his name rolling so easily off your tongue that he almost felt goosebumps trail up his forearms. He smirked, cocking his head to the side.
“But satisfaction brought it back,” he finished the quote for you, raising an eyebrow. Your lips twitched, shaking your head a bit and looking away from him. Wanda rolled her eyes, patting you twice on the knee before standing up, strawberry-blonde hair tucked behind her ears.
“I’m going to find Vis,” she announced, the leather of her red jacket swishing against her waist. “I’m tired of this plant talk.”
“Your loss,” Pietro called after her as she walked off. She turned around and stuck her tongue out childishly before lifting a single hand; with a swirl of red light, the door slammed shut behind her. Glancing back at you, Pietro grinned. “You can’t tell me you’re not just the tiniest bit curious.”
“Of course I’m curious,” you told him, leaning forward a bit in excitement as you shifted around; the scoop neck of your black tee sat low on your chest as you moved, and he fought to keep his sights on your eyes. “But, it’s not worth the risk. Not in my opinion, at least.”
“Yeah, well,” Pietro shrugged. “Maybe I’ll grab ahold of one of those hazmat suits and head in there myself. Just to take a look.”
You sent him a look and sighed, “Just don’t be stupid.”
Pietro gave a toothy grin. “Oh, Y/N. When have I ever been stupid?”
---
THE NEXT MORNING, PIETRO WAS bewildered to see you absent from the kitchen. Typically, you’d wake up way before he did, and he’d find you sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea or coffee and a book, silently reading. Vision sometimes would join you, or on certain days when Peter Parker would come round, Pietro would find you chatting away with him at the table. This specific morning, however, you were not there. Vision was sitting on his own, a copy of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden in front of him; a cold cup of coffee was sat in front of the empty chair.
“Buna dimineata,” Vision greeted in Sokovian, not looking up from his book. Pietro rubbed the sleep from his pale eyes and glanced at Y/N’s empty chair. “I presume you are curious as to where Y/N is.”
“Where is she?” Pietro asked, retying the white strings of his plaid blue and silver pajama pants. Vision glanced up at the cold cup of coffee, staring at it until it lifted into the air and carried itself towards the sink, dumping itself out and sitting on the chrome interior of the sink.
“I poured that for her, but she had yet to arrive,” Vision explained. Pietro furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest where the white tank top he wore to sleep was wrinkled up. “I sought for Captain Rogers and he revealed to me that she’s been quarantined to her room.”
“Quarantined?” Pietro repeated, the word sounding uncomfortable on his tongue. He cursed under his breath before tentatively asking, “What for?”
Vision closed Walden and set it down on the table, letting out a simple breath and shifting his eyes to meet Pietro’s.
“It seems that the laboratory and Y/N’s room share an air vent,” he said. Pietro said nothing, not following. Vision stood up, tucking the chair back under the table and holding Walden with one hand. “They sealed off that mysterious plant, however they seem to have forgotten the air vent underneath the desk it’s planted on. That air vent just so happened to empty into Y/N’s room.”
“The pollen,” Pietro pinched the bridge of his nose. “O, la naiba...”
“So it’s just wise, according to Banner, that she is confined to her room,” Vision gave Pietro look, bowing his head forward as though he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. “Which means you must leave her alone until she has recovered.”
Pietro let out a sigh before moving his eyes away from version, clenching his jaw and thinking; maybe there was a way he could get into your room without getting infected by the pollen himself, even if it was just to talk with you. The idea of you being all cooped up there by yourself made his heart clench, but he also couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the effects the pollen was having on you. 
“Pietro,” Vision said, and Pietro met his eyes. “Do not try and see her. We don’t know how much pollen is still in that room.”
Pietro rolled his eyes and left the room, not letting Vision interrupt his brainstorming. Banner had been extreme in his warnings about the effects, but how sexually-frustrated could the damn thing make a person? Besides, you were tough. He was sure it wasn’t too bad.
And it wasn’t. But after a week, he started getting anxious. Your room was entirely off limits, the only people going in out being Banner, to asses the situation, and Steve Rogers, to talk to you. You had always been close with Rogers, however, Pietro wished Banner could lend him one of those masks so he could see you. 
One evening, Pietro couldn’t sleep. The more he laid in bed, pale eyes staring blankly at the white ceiling, the more he thought about you, cooped up in your room and probably in an unimaginable amount of pain. It had been a week and change already, and this isolation was sure to be driving you mad. He swung his legs around so he was now sitting on the edge of his bed, and he paused. 
Maybe this is a bad idea, he thought to himself as his legs carried him towards his door, Like, a really bad idea. He hand was still clasping over the doorknob and twisting, despite that little voice in the back of his head asking if this idea of his could potentially end badly.... or, he could end up helping you out. He couldn’t imagine being isolated for so long.
By the time he reached the outside of your bedroom, he paused, his knuckles hovering over the wood, hesitating to knock. He could hear you from outside, moaning and groaning in pain. His heart ached and he knocked.
The moaning stopped and Pietro gulped. “Hey, dragă...”
“Pietro?” you asked from inside. “You shouldn’t...” you paused, and he heard the sound of your bedsheets rustling. “You shouldn’t be near here...”
“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to see you.”
“Banner says it might be contagious,” you replied sadly. He could hear you frown. “I don’t want you to catch it.”
“It’s been over a week,” Pietro rolled his eyes. “I doubt it’s still airborne. Most viruses don’t last in the air for that long.”
“I guess,” you fell silent. More rustling. Pietro sighed and put his hand over the door knob. Taking a deep breath, he twisting and opened it.
You were a sight to see, that’s for sure. Half your body was covered by the white comforter, and the parts of you that weren’t were clad in a small tank top and small pajama shorts. The ceiling fan was on top speed, and there were two other fans propped up in the room, each pointing towards the bed. 
Your face was a bright red, same with your chest, and your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it out of your face. But your eyes, that had previously been half-lidded, widened considerably when you saw Pietro open the door before you threw the entire blanket over yourself.
“You can’t be in here!” you shrilled. “You’ll catch it!”
You felt a hand grasp onto the blanket, slowly pulling it down and off of you. Pietro, his hair tousled by his hand and his lips curved into a gentle smile, let out a small laugh.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m, like, superhuman. I think I’ll be okay. Let’s go get some water.”
You hesitated, letting him slide the blanket off you. You clenched your jaw, cheeks flushing scarlet as your eyes raked him up and down; he was clad in a thin white tank top that was maybe a size too small, and white-and-blue pajama pants that hung low on his waist. Taking a deep breath, you swung your legs over the bed and got to your feet.
You walked behind him, scared to get too close. Pietro could see your hesitation to the leave the room, as well as your hesitation to touch anything. 
“C’mon, dragă,” Pietro laughed at you. “It’s okay. I feel fine. You’re not going to get me sick.”
“We don’t know that,” you took another heavy breath, keeping your eyes off of him. The flushing of your face made it hard to breathe and the twisting in your lower abdomen was making your head whirl. The muscles of his back flexing every five seconds as he reached up in the cabinets for a cup was not helping. You gulped. “I need to sit down...”
“All right,” Pietro glanced back at you, holding the two cups of ice water. “You okay?”
“None of the medicines work,” you mumbled, hesitantly taking the from him. He sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, staring at you. You felt your neck get hotter and glancing down at your lap. “I just gets worse.”
“What does?” Pietro asked curiously. “What’s the issue? Nauseous? Headache?”
“Erm,” you took a shaky breath and squeezed your legs together. “Hard to explain. The plant, the one from Asgard that did this... it’s... it’s kind of odd...”
Pietro raised a brow. You had a death grip on both your cup and the couch cushion. Face beet red, you took a sip from your trembling hand, avoiding his inquisitive stare.
“How so?” Pietro asked.
“I don’t really know,” you mumbled. “Banner said it’s got these, like... coitus pheromones? I don’t really know what that word means, but he refuses to elaborate.”
It was Pietro’s turn to feel his cheeks grow hot. The word was the same in Sokovian, and he knew it was a fancy term for sex, but he was shocked that you didn’t know. You were supposed to be the smart one.
“Y/N... you don’t remember what it means?” he asked carefully. You shook your head.
“Do you?” you asked, finally meeting his eyes for the first time in a few minutes. Pietro bit the inside of his cheek. No wonder you were gripping the couch like a lifeline. This whole time, he had assumed you were moaning and groaning because of pain. His chest felt hot. “What’s it mean?”
“It means sex, Y/N,” he told you slowly. “If Banner says it’s got “coitus pheromones”, that means it’s like... it really is like alien viagra. Like I had joked about before…”
He saw your eyes grow wide, your chest beginning to rise and fall with greater speed. You averted your eyes away from him in almost an instant, pressing your lips together in a thin line and shrinking back as though to pretend he were not there.
“Great,” you mumbled. Pietro shrugged.
“S’not like you didn’t know what it did,” he said honestly. “You’ve been feeling like this for more than a week, you’ve had to have some idea. Probably driving you up a wall, huh?”
You gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah.”
Pietro stared at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest. “I could help you. If you wanted me to.”
You gave him a very odd look, brows furrowing just a bit. The air felt warmer, as though someone had turned off the A/C. “What?”
“You heard me,” Pietro muttered, and now it was his turn to shrink back, his back hunching. “Only if you want...”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled. Pietro pursed his lips. 
“You’re not,” Pietro said simply. “I’m asking you if you want me to help you.”
“I...” you bit the inside of your cheek, and he watched you take a deep, steady breath. “Of course I want you to.”
“Well...” Pietro trailed off, staring at you, awaiting your word. His knees were practically touching yours, the head radiating off of him making you grip the couch tighter.
“Well, what?” you asked. His hand left where it had previously rested on his lap and latched onto your knee, sliding upwards at a snail’s pace.
“Can I?” he asked softly. “Help you?”
You glanced down at where his hand rested on your thigh. Back up at his eyes. Jesus christ.
“Yes.”
You could’ve sworn you saw his lips twitch upwards, a half-smirk half-smile fighting to curl onto his face. You didn’t bother dwelling on it, though, considering you were too focused on the fact that his other hand was on your other thigh, his hands sliding up and down your leg leisurely before coming back down onto your knees.
He pushed your knees apart, his calloused fingers digging into your bare skin, pale blue eyes never leaving yours. You took another shaky breath, swallowing anxiously. He lowered himself off of the coffee table he had been sitting on, kneeling in between your knees. His fingers crawled up to the fabric of your pajama shorts, tugging on the hem.
“Y’know these gotta go, right?” he asked rhetorically. 
“Mmhm,” you gulped and did nothing for a second, but as he continued to tug on them, you took the top elastic and pulled it down until it reached his hands. He did the rest of the work, discarding them beside where he knelt.
Your underwear was a light blue, which just so happened to be Pietro’s favorite color (this was a coincidence, you swear). He hummed in approval and spread your knees apart wider. His eyes darted down, spotting the darkened patch of fabric right over her sex. He gave a smirk and snapped his eyes back up to yours again.
Saying nothing, he brought his hand closer to you, running his index finger up and down the darkened fabric. You shuddered. He was barely putting pressure on you, but it seemed the pollen was making even the slightest touch feel a million times more intense than it was.
“These also have to go. As much as I like ‘em,” he said, tugging on the azure fabric of your panties. You felt yourself smile a bit. 
“Okay,” you rolled your eyes, but grabbed the hem and pulled down down. Pietro grabbed them off of your ankles, and lifted them up in front of his eyes.
“Can I keep these?” he asked. You kicked him with your foot.
“Creep,” you said. He chuckled and put them on top fo your discarded pajama shorts. “Can you please just...”
“Just do what?”
You huffed and mumbled something unintelligible. He pressed his thumb to your clit rather harshly, moving in small, quick circles.
“What was that?” He asked as you gasped, hands grappling at the edge of the sofa. “What do you want?”
“Everything,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering. Pietro hummed.
“Well, I don’t have time to give you everything, but I can give you a... what do you call it? A taste?"
And then, before she could say anything more, he dove forward and pressed a kiss to your clit, eliciting another gasp from you. He skillfully traced his tongue up and down the length of your slit before returning to your clit, where he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You slithered a hand down to tangle in his hair, grasping at the white-blonde locks.
“Christ, Piet,” you breathed. You felt him smile before he lifted his mouth up for a second, licking his lips. Locking eyes with you, he brought himself back down to trace circles around your entrance with his tongue. Without a second to waste, he brought his hand up and plunged his index finger inside, pulling it out to only shove it back in over and over again.
Your head fell back onto the cushion of the couch, back arching, one hand grappling at the back of its foundations while the other grasped onto Pietro’s hair. Pietro’s eyes flickered back and forth between your half-lidded eyes and the finger that was moving in and out of you, and with a rush of adrenaline, he shoved his middle finger inside, too.
Curling his fingers, he brought his mouth to your clit. “Close, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” was all you could find words for, the combination between his fingers and his mouth making your vision go blurry and your mind go blank. “Uh-huh.”
“C’mon, dragă,” he coaxed, his words slightly muffled by his lips being pressed to your clit. “Give it to me.”
Back arching, the coil inside of your lower abdomen finally began to unravel at high speed, body spasming over his long fingers as pretty moans slipped from between your lips. Pietro was grinning as he sucked at your cunt, feeling your velvet walls tighten around his fingers as you orgasmed.
When the noises from you ceased, and your breathing began to slow, he pulled his fingers out and sat upright. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and just as they locked, he put his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. You shivered.
“Feel better?” he asked casually. You paused.
“Yeah,” you said in shock. “I actually do.”
“Told you,” he smirked. You smiled at him.
“Thanks.”
“Of course,” he replied, getting off his knees and sitting beside you, handing you your underwear and shorts. “Would’ve done it even without the pollen, y’know.”
“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow. He gave a firm nod. “I’ll have to take you up on that, then.”
--
translation:
“Buna dimineata.” - Good morning
“O, la naiba.” - Oh, damn it.
“Dragă.” - Darling, Sweetheart, Love
taglist:
@childishnewt @mcximffs @minbeatriz16 @slvtforfictionalcharacters @kaqua @thorrealgf @pagesbetweensheets @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @niallhoransupremacy @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777
a/n: this is painfully unedited im sorry. 
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What's with these phoneys, dissin' Old Sport?
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srpayt0n · 2 months
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blobee · 10 days
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me every time I think about going to the fridge.
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vexenya · 7 months
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Now you've really done it *Shaves your ryokira*
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this warms my heart.
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rosymiel · 1 year
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hearts4ggy · 5 months
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so uhm.
@walking-fnaf-encyclopedia showed me the purple guy choker and... guh....
@kitty-thinks-stuff i know you wanna see this you freak
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madame-fear · 4 days
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Making a dark stalkerish smut fic with Fran Romero because why not IT’S IN DRAFTS ALREADY LET’S GOOOOOFKKGKG
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wiverntiles · 1 year
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Enid: *kisses Wednesday's neck*
Wednesday: what is this?
Enid: affection
Wednesday: disgusting
Wednesday:
Wednesday: do it again
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staffs-secret-blog · 2 years
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My worst crime is having a harry potter themed email because I made it when I was 11 and stupid and now I'm stuck having all my social media and other stuff signed up with that email
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ladyqahnaarin · 5 months
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Not the Joker calling Jason "zombie" and "Dracula" 🙃
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knnwk · 7 months
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