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lixiesfreckless · 3 months ago

Text

Breathless | h. j.

➸ synopsis: Was it dumb? Yes. But when has that ever stopped you and Jisung?

➸ starring: han jisung x female reader

➸ word count: 2.5k

➸ general content: best friend!jisung, accidental Friends With Benefits reference, both characters are dorks, jisung is kind of a menace(uncharacteristically good with women), smut

➸ warnings: sexual content, swearing, fingering, protected sex, very tame bondage

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: watched FWB today and was gagged when the literal opening line of this fic was used in the movie in the exact same context. it came out in 2011! how does that even happen—anyways enjoy this old fic since it reminded me of it lolllll

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! Feel That - Junny

“What the hell are we doing,” he giggled into your mouth, peeling off your outer layer as he pushed you into the comforter. Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his flannel, desperately trying to get rid of the unnecessary fabric between you two.

“I don’t know, but I kinda like it.”

It had all happened so fast; one moment you and Jisung were lazily watching whatever talk show that the tv program was playing and the next, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

This was probably the most reckless decision you two had decided to make since you became friends in middle school. Why on earth would best friends be trying to undress each other in the late hours of the night?

“Wait.” You pushed him away slightly and let go of his shirt. “Is Hyunjin coming home anytime soon?”

“No.” Jisung chuckled, lifting the edges of your band tee. “Him and Seungmin are on Jeju Island, they won't be back until next week.” You nodded, raising your arms for him to take off the shirt before pulling his neck towards you again, resuming your heated kiss.

The rest of his buttons came undone quickly, your hands desperate to feel his burning skin under their fingertips. He leaned back to take the fabric off, chucking it to a random corner of his room, before freezing at the feeling of your hands tracing his abs.

“When did you get built Ji?” You whispered, staring at the subtle definition in his skin. A light scoff left his lips before he rolled his eyes, leaning forward to cage you with his toned arms.

“I’ve always been this way baby.” He raised an eyebrow, eyes trailing all over your exposed skin.

“Are you trying to be sexy?”

“Is it working?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, him attaching his lips to yours immediately and letting his hands roam your skin.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way his fingers traced foreign trails up to your jawline. Touching you like this wasn’t something you had previously wished he did, but now you felt like you should have been doing this all along. His skin felt so warm on top of yours, your fingers pressing around the back of his neck to gain leverage into the kiss as he groaned in contentment.

Your bra came undone rather quickly, and you’re reminded that Jisung is somehow very experienced, a thought that made you visibly shudder under his fingertips.

“Wait,” you broke the kiss, and he took this opportunity to kiss your jawline, each press leaving you more and more desperate for his touch. “I don’t really know any of your likes or dislikes…in bed I mean.”

His lips hovered over your neck for a moment, as if he were trying to decide what he should and shouldn’t tell you.

“I like hair pulling and scratching,” he answered, lips pressing under your ear. “And don’t call me anything weird.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you nearly moaned, trying not to lose your mind over how his thumbs were dipping under the waistband of your jeans and massaging your hip bones just right.

“And you?”

You fell silent, face blooming red as you remembered what turned you on the most. And he noticed quickly, stopping his leisurely painting session on your neck at your reluctance.

“Hey, this is a two way street you know.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes, seemingly ignoring the beet red tone covering your cheeks. “I’d feel horrible if I overstepped-”

“...bondage.”

“W-what?”

“I have a bondage kink-”

“I know what you said,” he laughed, leaning off of you to rest on his heels. “I’m just shocked that sweet little y/n likes being tied up-”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, looking away from the topless brat.

“If you insist.”

His leather belt came off next, nearly making you scream in both excitement and horror from his newfound knowledge about you. But he simply set it aside, climbing back over you and dipping back into your neck.

You instinctively let out a sigh as his lips went back to caressing your skin, his hands now smoothing their way up your waist as well as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“Hickeys?” He asked, though positive that you wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of doing so.

“Please.”

The boy wasted no time in landing one right at the curve of your breast, lips working hard to redden the skin underneath them to get the color he wanted. Your hands rushed to his head, holding him tight against you with tufts of his ash colored hair between your fingers.

He let himself relish the sensation of you tugging on his roots for a brief moment, humming against your skin before he stopped sucking, reaching for the belt that he left beside you.

You could feel your skin tingle as he removed your hands from his hair, holding them in one hand as he wrapped them with his belt with the other, before expertly tying them with the leather band. He then raised your arms so they were above your head on the pillows, leaving your torso completely at his mercy.

“Can you keep those there for me baby?” His voice had a sultry kind of quality to it; one that you couldn’t find in yourself to resist as you nodded breathlessly.

He then went back to the task at hand, licking and biting and sucking everywhere on your upper torso, making sure to leave enough marks for you to not think that what was happening was just a fever dream. And he made sure to revisit your lips every so often, swallowing all of your little moans every time he thought you’d earned it.

Working his way down, he tugged the rest of your bra off, letting it drop to the floor and kissing around your left nipple while flicking his thumb over the right. You gasped, immediately pulling on the belt restraint around your wrists.

“Sensitive, are we?” He smirked, and you’d sworn that if it were anyone else, you’d choke the hell out of them.

But this isn’t just anyone. This is Han Jisung, and guessing from the surprises this night had already brought, he’d probably like that.

So you settled for a moaned yes in response, and what a good decision that was; not even a second after he had his lips wrapped tight around your nipple while letting his fingers play with the other. Your back arched prettily off the comforter, pushing your chest further into his grasp as he chuckled against your skin.

Thighs pressing together as to provide yourself some friction, a senseless string of pleads left your mouth, begging Jisung to please get on with it because it felt like your body would burst into flames if he kept going. But he didn’t stop, no; the hand that was pulling against your nipple dipped lower to find the button on your jeans, a small indication that he did intend on going further tonight.

Even though you were already over the moon with what had happened already.

Whether he was being intentionally slow or it was just difficult to undo your jeans with one hand, you did not know; but he finally worked the button free, quickly pulling the zipper down afterwards to allow room for his hand that would need to fit inside momentarily.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here,'' he mumbled, smoothing his hand from your abdomen to the top of your underwear, pausing slightly to check for any hesitance before pressing on.

“Oh, god…already?” Your face couldn’t possibly have gotten any redder as he ran a lone finger along your slit, catching the wetness that pooled there immediately. “We’re just getting started-”

“Then hurry up, Ji,” you whined, clenching your thighs to get some friction.

He smiled, suddenly aware of his weak spot for your begging before finally adding friction to the place where you wanted it most.

This wasn’t his first time pleasuring a woman– you were aware of that much –but it took him a minute to figure out what you liked and where you were the most sensitive, essentially playing with you until you made the right sounds. Once he started getting it right however, it finally dawned on you just how much trouble you were in, your chest heaving and toes curling at his ministrations.

It wasn’t long before he changed the game, bringing two fingers inside of you and curling them just so, and an obscenely loud moan left your mouth to his delight.

“Good?” He questioned, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t moving too fast for you as he leisurely pulled his fingers out.

“G-Good, don’t stop-” You were cut off by another moan, and decided to give up on speech altogether as you felt another bubble up in your chest.

He took it a step further, lightly leaving pecks across your bruised chest, and then a step further, purposefully pressing his palm against your clit every time he delved into your core.

Not only was it good, it was also unfair and even embarrassing, considering how quickly he was bringing you to your peak.

He had you twisting, clenching, whimpering and writhing under his grasp within three minutes, and even if he stopped it wouldn’t prevent the white wave of euphoria that was approaching.

“God, Jisung, I-”

You broke under him right then and there, shaking and gasping as your release overtook you in blissful waves of pleasure. Jisung helped you through it, pressing his fingers into you until your moans turned into whimpers and your shaking into trembling.

It took you forever to completely come down from your high, but Jisung used this time to get himself ready, leaning back on his heels and unzipping his own pants as you tried to catch your breath. You could almost feel him smiling at you before you opened your eyes, chest still heaving as he flashed that shit-eating grin in your direction.

“That good, huh?” he chuckled, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough so his length could spring free.

“Oh fuck me.”

“One step ahead of you.”

A cold shiver ran up your spine as you finally registered what he was doing, your core clenching on nothing despite it being only a minute since you came. In any other situation, you would have snapped back at him for being so snarky, but with the hollow feeling in your core being somewhat uncomfortable, you figured that keeping your mouth shut would have him filling you faster.

One condom later and you were seconds away from the anticipated moment, watching through lidded eyes as he carefully brought your wrists down to untie them. Your pants were next to come off, and his soon followed, but only halfway; you assumed that your impatience had finally caught up to him.

And you couldn’t even blame him—he looked painfully hard after the show you had put on for him.

He pumped himself only three times before leaning over you again, and then a strange look crossed his face as he froze.

“Wait, I’m okay to do this right?” He asked, looking between your eyes and where your hips met. “I just realized I never asked-”

“Han Jisung if you won’t I will,” you pleaded, urging him on, and he gave you a crooked smile before drawing in a deep breath.

He pushed inside of you slowly, ignoring every painful urge he had to quickly bottom out inside you and alleviate the burning need in his lower abdomen. A string of hushed curses left your mouth; this wasn’t your first time, but it might as well have been with how much the feeling of being stretched out was overwhelming you.

He made it to the end with a small whimper, dipping his head forward into your shoulder as he tried to steady himself.

“Can I move?”

“Knock yourself out,” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut from the sensation of adjusting to him fully.

He started out slow, each drag of his cock against your walls eliciting a low whine from you as he rolled his hips against yours. One hand pinned your hips to the bed, while the other held him up next to your head, giving him the option to lean down and capture the skin of your neck between his teeth whenever he pleased.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he groaned, grinding deeper into your core with every thrust. At his words, you could only pull his face down to meet yours, silencing him with a kiss in hopes that he would talk less. Otherwise, his pleasure-ridden voice alone would bring you to climax.

He happily kissed away all of your moans and whimpers, sucking on your bottom lip until you both were panting too much to keep a cohesive liplock.

His hips were starting to slam against yours now, that erotic sound of skin on skin slapping finally reverberating around the room and joining the chorus of your moans. Your toes curled, body barely able to process the pleasure building inside of you as moans helplessly tumbled out of your lips.

“Tell me what I h-have to do to get you there,” he choked out, worried that he might not get you to finish again in time.

“Fingers- ah, please-”

He knew exactly what you meant, moving the hand that was on your hip to your clit and gently rubbing it in the way that had you moaning his name before.

His breaths became heavy and his thrusts started to lose their rhythm; both things that you were sure were signs of his release drawing near, but you could barely focus on that when yours was practically hurtling toward you, threatening to spill you over the edge before he broke.

“Jisung, I c-can’t—” Words finally left you as you felt your whole body start to tense up, and Jisung let out a loud moan from the sudden tightening around his length.

“Come. Come all over me baby,” He whispered breathlessly, using the last bit of his stamina to thrust harder into you, until you couldn’t take it for another second.

You came undone for the second time that night, shaking and moaning beneath him as he pounded into you twice more, before he caved as well, just barely holding himself off of you as he emptied his load into the condom. Careful to not wait until he was too soft, he pulled his length out of you, subsequently falling onto the sheets next to you as he caught his breath.

“So I take it we’re not just friends?” He mused, a cheeky grin poking out from under the sheets. You slapped his back playfully, rolling away from him before he caught your hips with his hands, pulling you flush against his warm chest.

“Shut the fuck up.”

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heron-knight · 1 month ago

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decided to crack open my skull and pour the contents of my brain onto the keyboard. thought the denizens of tumblr might enjoy it. bon appetite

Mech Pilot Care guide

You never expect it, do you. Even as you see the flashes of pulse-decay fire in the sky, illuminating a scene of violence on the cosmic scale. Planetary defense satellites forming Monolithic structures in the sky, their purpose now revealed as they scatter constellations of destruction across the night horizon, drowning out the stars and replacing them with ones born of death. The oxygen in a ship catching fire and burning away in an instant, a flash of light that marks the death of its crew of hundreds. Even if you take your telescope to watch this spectacle, this war in a place without screams, you still feel profoundly disconnected from it. Even as you see a pilot cleave through a drone hive with a fusion blade, the molten metal glistening in the light of the explosions around it, scattering without gravity to the corners of the universe, even as two mechs dance across the sky, their reactors pouring into the engines enough energy to power the house atop which you sit for ten thousand years, flying in a 3.5 dimensional dance with only one word to the song that can reach across the vacuum: “I Will Kill You.” you don’t feel even the slightest glimpse of what goes on inside their minds. You don’t feel the neurological feedback tearing across the brain-computer interface, filling her mind with more simultaneous pain and elation that an unmodified human could ever experience. You don’t feel it as the pneumatic lance punctures through steel and nanocarbon polymer, the mech AI sending floods of a sensation you could never truly know through the skull and into every corner of the body carried on enhanced nerves for every layer of armor punctured, tearing into the enemy chassis with a desire beyond anything the flesh can provide. Let the stars kill each other. After all, I am safe on earth. No, you don’t expect it when the star is hit with a sub-relativistic projectile, piercing through both engines in an instant. You don’t expect it to fall. You never would have expected it to land, the impact nearly vaporizing the soil and setting trees aflame, on the hill beyond your house, and you would never have expected, beneath the layers of cooling slag, for the life-support indicator light to still be visible.

All the fire extinguishers in your house, your old plasma cutter that you haven’t used in years, and whatever medical supplies you think they might still be able to benefit from. All that on a hoverbike, speeding at 120 kilometers per hour through the valley and up onto the hill, still illuminated by the battle above, unsurprisingly unchanged by this new development. 200 meters. 100 meters. You don’t know how much time you’ve got. It wasn’t exactly covered in school, how long a pilot can survive in an overheating frame. You’ve heard rumors, of course, of what these things that used to be human have become. That they don’t eat and barely need air. That they don’t feel any desire beyond what instructions are pumped directly into their brains. Not so much of a person as much as an attack dog. It’s understandably a bit concerning, as if they are alive, then it’s not guaranteed that you will be. Three fire extinguishers later, the surface of the mech is mostly solid, and the cutter slices through the exterior plating. With a satisfying crunch, the cockpit is forced open, revealing the pilot, and confirming a few of the rumors, while refuting others. Pilots, it seems, are not quite emotionless. In fact, there seems to be genuine fear on its face when it sees you, followed by… a sort of grim certainty as it opens its mouth, moves its jaw into a strange position, and you only have half a second to react before it would have bitten down with all its force on the tooth that seemed to be made of a different material then all the rest.

Your thumb is definitely bleeding, and is caught between a metamaterial-based dental implant, and one containing a military-grade neurotoxin. You’re not sure exactly why you did it. The pilot looks at you for a second, before the tubes that attach to its arms like puppet strings run out of stimulants, and it passes out after who knows how long without sleep. This battle has been going on for weeks already. Has it been fighting that long? Its various frame-tethered implants disconnect easily, the unconscious pilot draped over your shoulder twitching slightly with each one you remove. It’s a much longer ride back to the house. Avoiding having the pilot fall off the bike is the top priority, and the injured thumb stings in the fast-moving air.

An internet search doesn’t lead to many helpful sources to the question of “there is a mech pilot on my couch, what do I do?” a few articles about how easy targets retired pilots are for the “doll sellers,” a few military recruitment ads, and a couple near-incomprehensible legal documents full of words like “proprietary technology” or “instant termination.” However, there is one link, a few rows down from the top-- “Mech Pilot Care Guide.” It’s a detailed list, arranged in numbered steps. The website has no other links on it, just the step-by-step instructions: a quick read reveals that this isn’t going to be easy, but looking at the unconscious pilot, unabsorbed chemicals dripping from the ports in its arms and head onto the mildly bloodstained towel, you come to the conclusion that there’s no other option.

Step one: the first 24 hours.

The first thing you should know is that pilots aren’t used to sleeping. They’re used to being put under for transport and storage, but after the neural augmentations and years of week-long battles sustained by stimulants that would fry the brain of anyone that still has an intact one, they’ve more or less forgotten what real sleep is. If they see you asleep, they’ll think you’re dead, so don’t try to let them stay in your room yet. Once you’ve removed the neurotoxin from the tooth (it breaks easily with a bit of applied pressure, but be careful not to let any fall into their mouth or onto your skin.), start by moving them into a chair (preferably a recliner or gaming chair, as the mech seat is about halfway in between), and putting a heavy blanket over them. Don’t worry, they don’t need as much air as normal humans do, and can handle high temperatures up to a point. This is an environment similar to the one they’re used to. It’ll stay like this for about 12 hours-- barely breathing, trembling slightly underneath the blanket. Feel free to check if it’s alive every few hours, not that you could help it if it wasn’t. It won’t freak out when it wakes up. In fact, it doesn’t seem like they can. Turn down the lights and remove the blanket from its face. It’ll stare blankly at you, trying to evaluate the situation with a brain that’s not connected to a computer that’s bigger than they are anymore. Coming to terms, if you could call it that, with the fact that it isn’t dead. Don’t expect it to start reacting to things for a while yet, give it a couple hours.

It’s been a bit, and its eyes are starting to focus on you. The next thing you should know is this: pilots only have two groups into which they can categorize non-pilots: handler and enemy. You need to work on making sure you’re in the right one. Move slowly, standing up and walking toward them, making sure they can see where you’re going to step. Place both hands on their shoulders, then slide one under their arm and carefully pick them up. Don’t be startled by how light they are, or how they still shake slightly as they realize their arms don’t have anything connected to them. Most importantly, don’t break. Don’t reflect on how something can be done to a person so that this is all that’s left. Just focus on rotating them as if you’re inspecting all the brain-computer interface ports, while holding them at half an arm’s length. Set them back down, wrap the blanket around them, then lean in close and say “status report.” they won’t say anything, as they usually upload the data via interface, but what’s important is that now they recognise you as their handler. Their entire mind will be focused on the fact that they exist now to do what you want. Now it’s up to you to prove them wrong.

Step two: the first week.

They’re shaking so hard that you’ve had to move them from the chair back to the couch, sweating heavily as they pant like the dog they’ve been trained to think they are. This was to be expected, really. Pilots are constantly being filled with a mix of stimulants, painkillers, and who knows what else, and you’ve just cut them off completely. You’ve woken up several times in the night and rushed to check if they’re still breathing, debating whether you should try to tell them that they’re going to be okay. The guide says they’re not ready for that yet, whatever that means. They’re still wearing the suit you found them in, made from nanofiber mesh and apparently recycling nutrients and water before re-infusing them intravenously. It’s been three days since you tore them out of the lump of metal atop the hill outside. Long enough that the suit’s battery, apparently, has run out. You lift them gently from the couch and carry them to the bathroom. The shower’s been on for the past hour or so, meaning the temperature should be high enough. You set them on their chair, which you’ve rolled there from the living room and covered with a towel. Removing the suit normally isn’t done except in between missions, and it’s only done to exchange it for a new one. Without the proper tools, you’ve opted for a pair of scissors. Cutting through the suit takes a bit of time, but you manage to cut a sizable line from the neck down to the front to the bottom of the torso. The pilot recoils slightly from the cold metal against their skin, but you manage to peel off the suit without incident, The Temperature of which was roughly the same as the steam filling the room, and you’ve done your best to minimize air currents. They’ve got a bit more shape to them than you expected of someone who’s been so heavily modified. Perhaps what little fat storage it provides helps on longer missions, or perhaps this is for the purposes of marketing. Just another recruitment ad that appeals to baser instincts. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Using a cloth with the least noticeable texture possible, you wash off as much sweat and dead skin as you can, avoiding the various interface and IV ports, as you’re not yet sure that they’re waterproof. Embarrassment is the enemy of efficiency, so you’re slightly glad that their eyes never completely focus on you. They shift their weight slightly, however. Despite the difficulty moving with their current symptoms, they lean in the direction opposite the places you wash once you're done, allowing you to more easily access the places you haven’t got to yet. An act of trust that you have a suspicion they weren't “programmed” to do. As they dry out, you prepare for the difficult part. You take the blanket that previously wrapped around their suit, and gently touch a corner of it to their shoulder. Pilots are used to an amount of sensory information that would overload any normal human in an instant, but most rarely experience textures against their skin. After about half an hour, they’re used to it enough that you’re able to replace what’s left of the suit with it, and after another you’re able to wrap them in it again. You carry them back to the couch, and place a few of your old shirts next to their hand. They pick one and touch it with one finger before recoiling slightly. Eventually, they’ll be used to at least one of them enough that they can wear it. It’s slow progress, but it’s progress.

Step 3: food

It goes without saying that it’s usually been at least a year since they’ve eaten anything. The augmentations scooped out much of their knowledge on how to survive as a human, assuming that they would die before ever needing to be one again. Start them off with just flavors. Give them a chance to pick favorites by giving them a wide selection and firmly telling them to try all of them. Avoid anything solid for the first month or so, both because they can’t digest it and because they associate chewing with their self-destruct mechanism. Trying to and surviving might make them think the “mission’s fully compromised” and attempt to improvise. They’ll typically pick out favorites quickly with their enhanced senses, so once they’ve sampled everything, tell them to pick one. Remember it, not in order to use it as a reward or anything, but them still being able to have a “favorite” anything is something you should keep in mind for later.

Use a similar method anytime they become able to handle the next level of solidity. Don’t be alarmed if one of their favorite foods is the meat that’s most similar to humans (such as pork.) they’re not going to eat you, they just will have already formed an association between that flavor and the moment they went from being a weapon to living in your house. Don’t worry about your thumb getting infected, by the way. Pilots barely have a microbiome.

Step 4: entertainment:

Roll them over to your computer and give them access to your game library. No, really. They need enrichment, and there’s only one activity that they’re able to enjoy at the moment. A simulation of it will make the shift from weapon to guest easier. Start them off with an FPS with a story. Don’t go multiplayer, as your account may get banned for being suspected of using aimbots. Watch as they progress the story. The military left pilots with just enough of a personality to allow them to improvise, and that should be enough for them to make decisions on this level. They won’t do much character customization, but keep an eye on which starting character body shape they pick. No pilot would consciously think they have enough of a “Self” to still have a gender, but keep track of the ones they pick in the games. As for the one you’ve found, it appears that she’s got a player-character preference. You even saw her nudge one of the appearance sliders before clicking “start game.” Whether this means that a pilot doesn’t think of themselves as “it” or that it means there’s still enough of their mind left for them to know there’s more to themselves than the body they have, it’s a handy bit of information to know. Some pilots might have had this decision influenced by their handlers having referred to them as “she” in the way it refers to boats, but still, on some level they always know that “it” meant that they’re a weapon.

Step 6: outside:

There’s a profound difference between experiencing the world through information fed directly into your brain and standing up for the first time, wandering around the room and investigating with hands not made of a half-ton of metal. She’s not used to feeling the air on her skin as she stands in front of the window, visual data coming from two eyes instead of seven cameras. It’ll take a while to get used to it again. New old data, reminiscent of a time before she’s been trained not to remember. It’ll take a while until she’s walking like a human and not a mech, as the muscles used are different, and the ones to hold herself upright haven’t been used in a while. She’s going to fall down at least once. Be sure you’re standing next to her when it happens, as pilots that fall aren’t trained to think they can get back up. It’s worth it, though, when she opens the door herself and strides into the yard, still wobbly but standing. Be careful not to let her look into the sun, partially because it looks nearly identical to the barrel of a pulse-decay blaster milliseconds before it fires. She would get hurt trying to dodge it. It will be somewhat confusing for her, standing on a hill as she once did, but not contained within a 12-meter metal chassis. A feeling of being small and alone without the voices of the computer. This means it’s time for step seven.

Step 7:

All this time, and any idea that she’s still a person has, for her, been subconscious. Any thought of humanity is stopped when it slams into the wall of her handlers and mech AIs reminding her for years before now that she is a weapon. She’ll still ask for your permission before doing just about anything, and that’s just the rare times that she’ll do something you don’t tell her to. Even after you’ve moved her into your room, she’ll still try to sleep on the floor. She still thinks that beds are only for humans. Kneel next to her as she curls into a ball on the ground, assuming that’s what she’s supposed to do. Expect her to try to move down to the foot of the bed after you set her down on it. Gently move her back up until her head’s on the pillow. Sit on the edge of the bed, and hold out your hand to her. After a bit, she’ll take it, wrapping both hands around it and tracing her fingers along the scar on your thumb. Lie down next to her, an arm’s length apart. Place your other hand on her forearm, then slide it up her arm to her shoulder. Don’t move too quickly, and don’t surprise her. Whisper softly but audibly every movement you’re going to make in advance. Move in a bit closer, until you’re wrapped in her arms. Mech pilots aren’t used to this. They aren't used to feeling someone next to them. Not above them, but next to them, getting exactly as much out of this as they are. Even after several months, many won’t admit they deserve it. You wouldn’t waste time lying next to a gun. So why do they feel so strongly that they don’t want you to leave? Why do they hold on tighter? They often feel they’re doing something wrong. Overstepping a boundary. There’s a rift between what they want and what they’re told they can want that nearly tears their mind in half, and it hurts. No normal human will ever know how much it hurts them to think they’ve broken some instruction, that they feel things they aren’t allowed to. Nobody said it was easy, learning how to become human again. Tell her it’s okay. That she’s allowed to feel this way. She still won’t know why. It’s time to tell her. The guide can’t tell you what to say, only that you have to say it. It has to come from you. You have to be the one that tells her what she is underneath all the modifications. It’s time, say it.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel your heart start to beat faster as it presses up against mine? Do you feel your own breath against your skin after it reflects off my shoulder? Do you feel your muscles start to tighten as I slide my hand across them, then relax because you know it means that you are safe? It’s because you’re alive. Because despite everything, you’re still alive. Still someone left after all the changes, all the augmentations. And I know you’re someone because you are someone that likes food a bit spicier than most would prefer. Someone that closes her eyes and gets lost in music whenever it’s playing. Someone that added that one piece of customization to her character, even though they would wear a helmet for most of the game and nobody would know it was there but you. Maybe you aren’t the same person you were before. Maybe they did take some things from you that nothing can give back. But you’re still someone. Someone that people can still care about, and I know because I do.”

You can feel her tears drip down onto your neck as she pulls you closer. She tries to say something, but you can’t understand what. You tell her it’s okay. That it’s not easy, and that she doesn’t have to pretend that it is. Not for you, and not for anyone anymore. She doesn’t have to be useful anymore. No need to keep it together. All that matters is that she’s alive.

There’s another battle going on in the night sky outside. The same flashes of light you saw the night you stopped living alone, even if the other person couldn’t admit that they were one yet. She still flinches at the brighter bursts of pulse-decay fire, still stretches out her hand on reflex to prime a pneumatic lance that isn’t there. But she knows it’s not her, it’s just a ghost of the weapon that died when it hit the ground. You can feel her relax as she realizes this, moving her hand back to dry her face before reaching out towards yours. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your own face. You place your hand on hers as she wipes the corner of your eye. Outside and above, the war continues on a cosmic scale, so far apart from where you both are now that you barely notice it. Let the stars kill each other. After all, the one before you has already fallen, and she doesn’t have to return to the sky. Together, you are safe on earth.

#mechposting #creative writing #mech pilot

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directactionforhope · 6 months ago

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"Starting this month [June 2024], thousands of young people will begin doing climate-related work around the West as part of a new service-based federal jobs program, the American Climate Corps, or ACC. The jobs they do will vary, from wildland firefighters and “lawn busters” to urban farm fellows and traditional ecological knowledge stewards. Some will work on food security or energy conservation in cities, while others will tackle invasive species and stream restoration on public land.

The Climate Corps was modeled on Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps, with the goal of eventually creating tens of thousands of jobs while simultaneously addressing the impacts of climate change.

Applications were released on Earth Day, and Maggie Thomas, President Joe Biden’s special assistant on climate, told High Country News that the program’s website has already had hundreds of thousands of views. Since its launch, nearly 250 jobs across the West have been posted, accounting for more than half of all the listed ACC positions.

“Obviously, the West is facing tremendous impacts of climate change,” Thomas said. “It’s changing faster than many other parts of the country. If you look at wildfire, if you look at extreme heat, there are so many impacts. I think that there’s a huge role for the American Climate Corps to be tackling those crises.”

Most of the current positions are staffed through state or nonprofit entities, such as the Montana Conservation Corps or Great Basin Institute, many of which work in partnership with federal agencies that manage public lands across the West. In New Mexico, for example, members of Conservation Legacy’s Ecological Monitoring Crew will help the Bureau of Land Management collect soil and vegetation data. In Oregon, young people will join the U.S. Department of Agriculture, working in firefighting, fuel reduction and timber management in national forests.

New jobs are being added regularly. Deadlines for summer positions have largely passed, but new postings for hundreds more positions are due later this year or on a rolling basis, such as the Working Lands Program, which is focused on “climate-smart agriculture.” ...

On the ACC website, applicants can sort jobs by state, work environment and focus area, such as “Indigenous knowledge reclamation” or “food waste reduction.” Job descriptions include an hourly pay equivalent — some corps jobs pay weekly or term-based stipends instead of an hourly wage — and benefits. The site is fairly user-friendly, in part owing to suggestions made by the young people who participated in the ACC listening sessions earlier this year...

The sessions helped determine other priorities as well, Thomas said, including creating good-paying jobs that could lead to long-term careers, as well as alignment with the president’s Justice40 initiative, which mandates that at least 40% of federal climate funds must go to marginalized communities that are disproportionately impacted by climate change and pollution.

High Country News found that 30% of jobs listed across the West have explicit justice and equity language, from affordable housing in low-income communities to Indigenous knowledge and cultural reclamation for Native youth...

While the administration aims for all positions to pay at least $15 an hour, the lowest-paid position in the West is currently listed at $11 an hour. Benefits also vary widely, though most include an education benefit, and, in some cases, health care, child care and housing.

All corps members will have access to pre-apprenticeship curriculum through the North America’s Building Trades Union. Matthew Mayers, director of the Green Workers Alliance, called this an important step for young people who want to pursue union jobs in renewable energy. Some members will also be eligible for the federal pathways program, which was recently expanded to increase opportunities for permanent positions in the federal government...

“To think that there will be young people in every community across the country working on climate solutions and really being equipped with the tools they need to succeed in the workforce of the future,” Thomas said, “to me, that is going to be an incredible thing to see.”"

-via High Country News, June 6, 2024

Note: You can browse Climate Corps job postings here, on the Climate Corps website. There are currently 314 jobs posted at time of writing!

Also, it says the goal is to pay at least $15 an hour for all jobs (not 100% meeting that goal rn), but lots of postings pay higher than that, including some over $20/hour!!

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moondirti · 8 months ago

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so.. simon and johnny stopping by a seedy 24/7 roadhouse on their way back home post-op

featuring: established ghostsoap. pregnant fem!reader. alluded kidnapping, extremely toxic attitudes. they’re literally delusional. mentioned death. this verges on dark so please beware!

They’ve driven past it about a hundred times, never having given it more than a passing glance. Who would, really? Nothing about it seemed appealing – in all its sun-bleached paint job and flickering neon signage glory – but circumstances lent themselves to its consideration. What was supposed to be a half-day mission ended up taking two, meaning they haven’t had time to sleep let alone eat. On top of that, a delayed exfil made it so they touched down on base at an ungodly hour. By the time Price waived their paperwork and they got into their car, they were famished.

“Could eat the scabby heid aff a dog,” Johnny eventually groans. He’d tried his best to hang in there, mindful not to be a pest during the hours it takes his partner to decompress after a rough operation, but his stomach kills and he knows Simon’s does too. He only receives a grunt for a response, though the man abruptly steers into the leftmost lane, catching the nearest exit towards the place in his periphery. Cleary meant to model an American diner with it’s fading blue exterior and obnoxious banner: The Dahlia

But they’ve been in worse. They hardly take note of the coffee rings staining their table, or the homeless man who’s taken residence in a corner booth (besides the brief once-over in their threat assessment upon entering). No; they just slot themselves by the nearest exit, scan over the menu and decide to order the quickest meal possible.

Only for things to take a sudden turn when their waitress stops by.

Christ alive, Johnny wonders how you manage to glow under the harshest of fluorescents. Dewy skin. Bright eyes, if not a little sunken at the late hour. Still, you smile and do so genuinely as you waddle to their station, clicking a pen before asking: “And what can I do you for, gentlemen?”

Simon doesn’t look at you immediately, not even when you speak up. He’s too fixed on Johnny, replaying the past days’ events in his head. Revisits the hour where their comms malfunctioned, when he lost touch with his boy and had to fight not knowing whether he was holding up okay. He has trust in him, of course, more bleedin’ trust than he has in earth to keep rotating. Still–

You clear your throat.

His pupils shift to pin you under their scrutiny, only he can’t bring it in him to be as severe as he wants to be. Because, while the first thing Johnny notices about you is your beauty, the first thing Simon sees is your bump.

Obscured by your apron, but still there. Round. Full. 6 months along, by the looks of it.

He’s forced to recall Beth, Tommy by extension. An old working knowledge that comes back to haunt him. At 23 weeks, his sister in law’s pregnancy began to weigh on her. Heartburn. Backaches. Hot flashes that resulted in bouts of dizziness. She couldn’t be up for more than 2 hours at a time, and yet here you are.

What the fuck were you doing in a place like this?

“Need more time to decide?” You ask. Patient. Lovely. If Johnny weren’t so sleep-deprived, so in over his head, he would perhaps realise the subtle hints you were dropping. They’ve been staring too long now, unsettling no doubt. Grimy, each with a tell-tale bump on their waistbands that point to their armament. Simon sans hard-shell mask, but still in a balaclava and eyeblack. Both larger than life and practically alone with you in this isolated place.

It’s Simon who speaks up first. “Fish and chips for the both of us. To-go. Cheers.”

You scribble the order down, pausing to consider. “Coffee? Gotta inform you, it’s drip, bottom of the carafe so it might taste burnt too. Hotplate’s all out of sorts.”

“Aye, just the one. Gae head an’ dip yer finger in it too. Might benefit from a little sweetener.” It takes you a second to process Johnny’s flirt. When you do, though, you visibly blanch, ducking your head to hide your face as you pretend to jot what he said down.

“I’ll have that right out for you.”

And then you scurry off, glancing over your shoulder once you think you’re out of sight. Curious. Flustered.

Simon’s attention refocuses on the scotsman once you’re gone, an eyebrow raised under his mask. His partner is able to read the expressed question well enough: what do you think you’re doing? Strict, but not so much angry as it a press for him to think before he speaks, to balance the scales before he asks something of Ghost that he can’t refuse.

“Dinnae look at me like tha’.” Johnny whispers. “Bonnie lass, isn’t she?”

Simon blinks. “Expecting, too.”

“We cannae leave her here.”

Memories occur in rapid succession. Tommy. Beth. The cherubic face they had brought into the world – little Joseph, who was the first he found dead upon returning home.

He considers Johnny, Soap, this force of nature that wormed his way into his life and sunk his teeth into the rot of his heart, fastened before Simon could even think of brushing him off.

“And here’s that coffee! Your meals should be coming out soon, thank you for being patient.”

It’s a bad idea. Horrible. You could have a partner, a cozy home waiting for you. Nursery already painted. Names already chosen.

What good partner would let you work this shitty job?

It’s a bad, horrible idea. No good for anyone. They’re on constant deployment. They risk their lives on every run. You’d be put in harm’s way yourself.

Not if they hide you well enough. Their house is secluded for a reason.

It’s a bad, horrible, no good idea – but Johnny accepts the mug with a gracious smile and you bloom all pretty, hand inadvertently cradling your belly. Little flower, persisting against all odds. Growing from the fissures of broken concrete. Dignified still. Kind. Strong.

So what if they pluck you from your place? They’ve got somewhere much better for you to thrive.

next part

#this was supposed to be a lil thing #oops #simon ‘ghost’ riley #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghostsoap x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader x johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x read #soap x reader #ghost x soap #x reader #x female reader #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod #call of duty

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planetaryupscaled · 6 months ago

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Disenchanted 4: Pump & Dump

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 7k, anal, blackmail, cheating, creampie, dp, foursome, oral

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

It took a couple of days for the gravity of our meeting with Yeonjun and Hajoon to sink in. The notion of it all was earth shattering, the fact that both Karina and I were being held to ransom by two people I once believed to be trustworthy.

Yeonjun especially, was someone I thought I could rely on; it was painful to see how the situation unfolded, like a car crash in slow motion, with both our reputations and careers hanging by a thread. He had shown his true colors that day; his opportunistic vulture-like characteristics had emerged, and he was determined to reap the benefits.

In the cold light of day, I couldn’t say I blamed him. Just…there’s this part of me that wishes they would not stoop to such lows just to spend one night with Karina, but who am I to judge? I was sleeping with a married woman while simultaneously having drinks with her down trodden husband. Perhaps this was my comeuppance, my payment coming home to roost, my punishment.

Despite my misfortunes, it was Karina I really felt for. I could tell the impending meet up with Hajoon and his little stooge was weighing heavy on her mind. The way she had lost that spring in her step, her usual commanding confidence was being whittled down, day by day in silent trepidation about what was to come. Karina and I spoke for hours on the phone and in person to try and figure out a way to stop this, to find another solution to come back to the table and bargain our way out. It was all in vain, they had us up against the wall, cornered with nowhere to go.

—

The air was thick that night, humid and muggy, almost as if the weight of what was about to happen was in the atmosphere. I looked at Karina as we drove up to the Hajoon residence, clutching her hand as we left the city.

“We don’t have to do this...” I said, my voice calm and controlled.

She looked gently into my eyes, bringing my hand to her lips.

“It’s ok, we have come too far to get our lives ruined by some preppy junior marketer and an old fart.” She said, her voice laced with spite.

“Seriously…Karina, I can turn back- and...” I started.

“Runaway together?” She finished, leaning over to kiss my lips.

“Thats sweet...it really is...and I love that you want to protect me even though it will end up in your career blowing up in the process...but we have to do this, I have to do this.” Karina replied.

Her determination and ruthless business woman side coming to the fore, she was seeing this as a transaction, nothing more nothing less, a necessary means to an end.

“You love...” I started, looking over at her pretty face.

She smiled, blushing momentarily before looking over at me.

“Yes...I love you.” She spoke, kissing me once more.

“Don’t- you don’t have...” She began.

“I love you too...” I replied, a warm smile overcoming my face.

Karina smiled affectionately, running her hand across my arm before kissing my cheek.

“What?” I asked playfully.

“It’s just...those words, this admission is a big thing, yet here we are making our way to a car crash of an evening.” She said solemnly.

I shook my head in disgust, reassuring her that everything would work out, that everything would be ok. There was silence in the car for a few minutes as we neared our destination before Karina spoke out again.

“You know it’s funny...every time I’m with Jaewook...I find myself closing my eyes and thinking of you. It makes it go faster, it’s better that way. But now you are here, with me...” She said smiling, grabbing a crystal decanter out her bag.

“Just keep your eyes on me, the whole night. We will get through this.” I replied kissing her once more.

“Is that 20-year-old Jaewook’s?” I asked with a smirk.

“He’s gonna be pissed!” I said.

“No babe, it’s me that’s gonna get pissed.” Karina replied.

“I want to remember as little as I can of what goes down tonight.” She said, taking a swig from the bottle.

We pulled up at the gates, the iron structure parting slowly like a lair to an evil dictatorships base camp. The driveway was illuminated with spotlights leading up to an impressive looking, stone mansion. Situated just outside the city, Hajoon looked like he had acres of land, stretching as far as the eye could see as the sun began to set.

“You ready?” I asked Karina, my voice as calm as it could have been, given the circumstances.

Karina nodded, smiling and getting out the car ironically dressed in the same short black dress she was wearing the night I felt her up on the phone to her husband all those months ago. Her bronze skin glowed with sexiness as the sunlight hit her skin, striding confidently up the marble steps and knocking on the front door.

Naturally it was not Hajoon who answered, but a maid, offering us a drink and requesting we follow her up the grand staircase. The house was more modern looking inside than I had first envisaged, family portraits of past “Hajoon’s” lined the walls, illuminated by lights to give a dramatic welcome into the house.

“God, they love themselves don’t they.” I whispered under my breath.

“Do you think they are all cocks?” I followed up.

“Minho!” Karina replied quietly.

“Probably.” She continued, laughing into her palm.

I could see the alcohol slowly sinking in, her tipsiness was getting a little stronger as she took another hit of whisky before we arrived at two large doors. The maid knocked twice, before being asked to come in with Hajoon dressed in a pinstripe suit together with Yeonjun already prepped in a bath robe. He made me sick, I could have thrown him off the balcony right there and then.

“Glad you could make it.” Hajoon said, surveying Karina’s tight frame.

“You look...amazing tonight, as always Karina.” He said, taking a sip of wine.

“I would offer you a drink, but it seems you already have that taken care of.” He said smiling.

“Let’s get this over with.” Karina retorted, motioning to the mobile phone on the table.

“Na ah, I will delete once this is over.” Yeonjun said cooly.

“No, you delete it now.” Karina replied, standing firm.

“She will keep her word.” Hajoon replied, motioning for Yeonjun to do what he was asked.

Like a pawn he yielded, showing us the phone and deleting the video, pictures and anything else associated with that day.

“I suppose there is no cloud back up either?” I asked.

“There is none.” Hajoon replied.

A manipulative old fool he maybe, but a liar he was not.

“Shall we begin?” Hajoon asked, handing Karina a contract.

It was the transfer of his shares once he retired, going fully over to Karina. I quick squiggle and it was done, now the hard part.

“A few conditions.” Karina said confidently.

“Go on...” Hajoon said intrigued.

“No kissing on my lips under any circumstances and I do not and shall not swallow.” She said.

“After tonight, this is it, this is the only time you will be able to have me.” She followed up sharply.

The two just nodded, agreeing with the terms and walked forward, their eyes lighting up with desire as Karina backed herself onto me.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yeah...”

Karina pressed her rear onto my crotch grinding her body against my chest. I had to admit, my trepidation and even jealousy of having to share her with these two vile people was becoming slowly overturned with lust. Feeling Karina rock her hips against mine gave me instant wood as she widened her stance, showing off her toned, pale legs in all its glory before knocking back one another shot of whiskey.

“Cum in me first.” She whispered, grinding deeper into my crotch as I drifted my hands under her dress.

She was moist, almost too moist as I felt her cream leak through her silky underwear, the grool from her pussy forming strands on my fingertips the moment I pierced her cunt.

“Unghh...” Karina moaned quietly, beckoning the other two to walk forward.

I could see her eyes in the mirror locked on mine, egging me on to keep going, to please her. I did exactly that, slipping my hand between her panties and rubbing decisively at her throbbing clit. The moisture emanating from her pussy was overwhelming as I use my left hand to penetrate her folds while the other pinched at her tender clit and played with her slick labia. Karina eased herself over as Hajoon and Yeonjun stepped forward eagerly awaiting their turn. The sound of the Hajoon’s zipper being draw down was strangely erotic as the old man popped a blue pill, no doubt viagra as his cock slowly sprang to life. Yeonjun was now undressing, cupping Karina’s face as she grasped his exposed dick along with Hajoon’s gently jerking their shafts. I could see the pleasure coursing through their bodies as Karina encircled both of their slits with her thumb, pressing down gently while continuing to pump their dicks in her delicate hands, fisting their meat till both men started to dribble pre cum from their tips.

“Suck...” Hajoon said, running his fingers through her hair.

Karina looked back at me, nodding for me to ramp it up as I dragged my tip along the outside of her slit, her juices coating my crown in a delectable, warm sticky fluid before I thrusted forward, penetrating her sex with force, pushing her mouth onto Hajoon’s length while she held Yeonjun’s twitching cock in her other hand.

“Uhmm...mmh...mmm...” Karina moaned, her lips humming around the old man’s meat.

I watched in awe as she used her lips to pleasure his cock, coating him in her saliva whilst he used her mouth. Hajoon started rocking his hips, gripping her head softly while she fed on his dock, her right hand shifting to his sack while she continued to jerking Yeonjun.

“That’s a good girl, just like that.” Hajoon said, while Karina painted his shaft with spittle.

With a few more bobs of her head, she released him from her mouth, leaning back onto me and kissing me on the lips as I sucked on her exposed tongue. My cock was buried right up inside her married cunt, tensing and flexing inside her womb as my tip smashed up against her cervix. Unzipping the back of her dress, the fabric dropped to the floor, her sexiness exposed at last while I attacked her sex with my meat, slipping my thumb inside her ass and gripping her hips for leverage while I ploughed inside her slippery pussy.

“Minho- Minho...cum... cum inside me...” Karina chanted.

Her walls were milking my shaft at an alarming rate as I saw Yeonjun lose patience, grabbing Karina by her hair and easing her lips onto his cock. She took him no problem, sucking down on his cock with reckless abandon as he rolled his head back in pleasure.

“Fuckk...Karina...” He moaned.

Her mouth was in overdrive as I fucked her from behind, raising her right leg to spear her cunt deeper as Yeonjun and I spit roasted the mother of three. She was close, convulsing on my lap as I pumped more of my cock into her twitching slit, watching her feed on Yeonjun as he held her face and forced all of his dick into her warm mouth.

“Mmhh...nghh…mmhh.” Karina moaned around his meat as her legs started to buckle.

“Gluck...gluckk...gluckk...” Were the sounds of Karina’s mouth, Yeonjun clearly brushing her tonsils as her eyes started to well up.

Yeonjun and I held her in place, our thrusting, slamming ever deeper into her, stuffing her with cock at both ends as the inevitable came to fruition. I came first, my balls churning as I felt Karina shudder in my grasp, her pussy clamping down on my shaft as she climaxed hard on my meat. My balls churned wildly, as I unloaded inside her fertile cunt, spraying my seed into her womb as I pumped her full of my cum, thrusting hard into her wanting cunt like a wild animal. Yeonjun followed, almost immediately after, twitching uncontrollably as he unloaded deep inside her mouth, his seed dribbling from the corners of her lips as she worked his cock with her soft tongue. We were filling her up on both ends, pumping our sperm into her mouth and pussy all at once which she took without complaint, moaning around Yeonjun’s cock as she finally released him, opening her mouth and letting his cum fall out of her in its entirety, forming a milky puddle on the tiles. This sordid scene appeared to have set Hajoon off who was avidly jerking his veiny cock beside her, grabbing Karina by the back of the head and pointing his tip at her forehead.

“Ouhhh...Karina...” The old man moaned, sighing loudly as he unloaded on her face.

He painted her perfect lips and nose with his globulous load, thick and stringy in appearance as spurt after spurt flowed onto Karina’s face, creaming her skin in a translucent film of spunk. I t was like a scene from a porn as the four of us stood panting heavily, my cock still buried inside Karina as I gripped her hips to balance her uneasy legs.

“The bed...lets go to the bed.” Hajoon said out of breath.

The Viagra must have done the trick as his cock was as still as hard as ever, twitching in anticipation of what was to come. Karina took another hit of whiskey after wiping her face clean with a towel, the taste of salt and sperm now replaced with alcohol.

“You ok?” I asked, kissing her on the cheek.

Karina smiled, drunken and dazed, a lusty glaze in her eyes, one I was well accustomed to by now as she kissed me passionately on the lips, sucking on my tongue as she whispered in my ear.

“I... want...you...in my mouth.” She said softly, pulling me by my cock and lying on her side.

Without hesitation, Karina took my soft dick between her lips and started to suck. Her lips covering every inch of my shaft as she used her soft hands to gently palm and squeeze at my sack. It didn’t take long to reach full mast again as I held her by the face and gently pumped my cock into her moist mouth.

“Fucknggh…nghh...mmhh” Karina , screamed, wincing her eyes.

Hajoon had rammed his fat cock deep inside her pussy as she lay on her side. Her legs were bunched up in the Fetal position as he aggressively attacked her cunt with his dick, stuffing her with his meat repeatedly. The sounds of his hip slapping against her ass were brutal as Karina tried her best to concentrate her sucks on my cock. Her lips feebly wrapping around my shaft as Hajoon fucked her hard from the other side. It was something that set me off, the sound of flesh smashing together that triggered my inner animal. I gripped her face, looking her deep in the eyes as forced my twitching cock into her throat. I was using her face as my personal pleasure hole, skull fucking the married woman as I felt her lips clamp on my cock hard. Karina was shaking, Hajoon had hit the right spot grinding his hips as he buried his cock inside her cunt unloading his seed into her pussy.

“Grrhh...that’s right Karina, good girl, take it, take it all.” Hajoon grunted, pumping her cunt one last time as he fucked my cum out of her cunt and replaced it with his own.

Karina was a mess, a cum dazed mess as saliva dribbled down the side of her lips, spunk now leaking profusely out her slit as she rolled over onto her back. Yeonjun was eying her like a tiger, shifting his weight forward as he caressed her sticky thighs.

“Open...open your legs, Karina.” He whispered in her ear, licking the length of her neck.

She was too lust drunk to even protest as she spread her thighs for him, inviting Yeonjun to penetrate her well fucked pussy. He did just that, thrusting hard and deep into her pussy as his cock bottomed out inside the married woman. Grinding his hips, I was sure his tip was rubbing up against her cervix as Karina hung her head off the side of the bed.

“Unghhh...oh...ohhh...goddd...” She screamed, her arms clawing at my thighs.

“Is that all you have...? fuck me like you mean it you pussy!” She yelled at Yeonjun.

It set him off, as he gritted his teeth, his hips in overdrive as he fucked her like a bunny rabbit, grasping at her pert breasts while ramming his meat up inside her silky pussy. I could see her cream encapsulate his cock, Yeonjun’s balls slapping her pristine pussy lips.

“Take it...is...this...what...you...want...” He growled slamming her over and over again.

“Unghh...nghhh...Minho- Minho please...” She pleaded, opening her mouth and extending her tongue.

I rushed forward, supporting her head in my hands as I eased my cock between her lips once more. Squatting down I pumped my cock into her gullet, using her mouth like a glory hole as I felt her lips sheath my shaft, spit drooling at the sides of her mouth while my balls slapped up against her forehead.

“Take it...fucking...take…it...” I yelled, losing control.

Karina scratched at my inner thighs, her tongue now coating the top of my cock with spit as I began to cum. I held her face steady pumping hard and deep into her mouth as my tip exploded inside her throat, feeding her the much-needed seed she desired. Wave after wave of my cum coated her mouth, as she expertly held my base and pumped at my cock, sucking down my sperm into her stomach. Looking down, I could see her actively swallowing every last drop of cum, her throat bulging as I fuelled her mouth with my pent up salty cum.

“Agghhh...yesss...fuckkk” Yeonjun yelled, thrusting hard into Karina.

His hips were twitching, seeding her married pussy for the third time that night as we both pumped our sperm into her at both ends once more. Karina gyrated her hips, feeling the warmth of both loads enter her body as she turned to the side to suckle on my sack.

“Why do you swallow his?” Yeonjun asked.

“He...he can do whatever he wants to me.” She said breathlessly, smiling up at my face.

We stayed like this a mere minute or so before Hajoon came back into the action, slapping her ass in enthusiasm.

“I want your ass.” He said with a look of pure lust on his face.

I could not keep up at this rate so I asked for the blue pill to kick me into overdrive. The old man laughed, pointing me to the drawer as I took it down with some water. It was like a magic pill, my cock suddenly awakening, sore but absolutely rock hard. Yeonjun declined respectfully, tending to Karina’s breasts as he suckled on her nipples, sucking down hard as she rolled back in the covers in ecstasy.

Walking over I gave Karina a knowing look, grabbing her hips and flipping her over onto my lap.

“You want a ride baby?” I asked, winking at her.

Karina smiled flirtatiously, grabbing my length with her sweaty hands and grinding her sex onto me. It felt amazing being inside her warmth again, the spunk of the previous occupant leaking onto my thighs as her cunt made a squelching sound as she bottomed out on my lap. Yeonjun was standing above us, leaning on the backboard. As if on cue, she knew what to do, parting her lips and taking him into her mouth.

“Shit Karina...” Yeonjun moaned, clawing at her hair as he fed her his cock.

“Thats right Karina...bend over for me” Hajoon chimed in, pushing her mouth forward onto Yeonjun’s cock as she took him into the back of her throat.

Hajoon had a clear run at her now exposed rosebud as I pistoned in, up inside her pussy, slapping my balls up on her ass. I could feel Karina tense up the moment Hajoon entered her, her hips bucking slightly as he thrust with full force filling her asshole with his cock. All four of us found our rhythm quite quickly as I thrust my cock up inside Karina’s tight cunt, Hajoon would slide out of her anal cavity while Yeonjun would pump his cock into her throat. It was like a complicated machine made out of human body parts.

Karina’s breasts were bouncing all over the place as Hajoon gathered speed, splitting her ass open with his fat cock as he filled her anally, I could hear the slaps of flesh again and the squelch of bodily fluids emanating from between her legs. She was enjoying this, her pussy creaming all over my cock as her cunt glistened with grool.

“Nghh...mmfff...fuck...fuckk...shittt...” Karina wailed between sucks, saliva now dripping on to my face from her rapid slurps.

Her body was being stuffed with three cocks simultaneously, she was well and truly airtight. At this angle I could spear her g-spot with cock. Spreading her ass cheeks for Hajoon to violate her anus, I thrust upwards hard, grinding my hips against her clit till I felt her sacred spot with my tip. I held her here while I prodded and rubbed against her most sensitive parts, filling her womb with my meat as my cock stretched her pussy out.

“Karina...Karina...suck…keep...sucking me.” Yeonjun grunted.

I could feel myself approaching too, gripping her body close as I continued to thrust up inside her wanting cunt with my slick cock, spearing her folds with my dick as Hajoon began speed up frantically fucking her rump.

“Karinaaa…nghhh.” Hajoon groaned, gripping her hips and fucking her deep in the ass.

I could feel her lower half convulse, no doubt taking his load deep inside her anal cavity as Yeonjun followed suit, unloading wildly into her mouth while my tip exploded between her legs. All three of us were seeding her at the same time, our cums being fired into her ass, pussy and mouth together as one. Sperm flowed from her lips as she spat Yeonjun’s load out on to the pillow, a bit dribbling down her face as she pumped his straining dick on more time. Her hips gyrating slowly while my spasming cock eeked out the last drops inside her dripping well fucked pussy, creampie number four for the night.

Hajoon rolled of, slapping her rump once more before lying back on the Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Come...” He said, directing Karina to him.

“Crawl to me...” He whispered.

Karina complied, her face smeared with cum and spittle as she crawled, cum oozing from her red raw ass and well fucked pussy.

She was tired, her arms weak as she crawled across the bed on onto Hajoon’s lap, His cock was still hard, as he beat his meaty cock in his hands waiting for Karina’s mouth to engulf him. It was a highly arousing sightseeing Karina, normally the dominant one in the work environment, being tamed and compliant as she joined his hands with hers, squeezing his fleshy cock as she bent down and took him in her mouth. The sounds that came from her mouth were sexual, the way she coated him with her full lips, slathering her saliva along his shaft as her tongue travelled the length of his base till she reached his balls. Taking each orb in her mouth, Karina suckled, feeding on his sack while pumping away at his cock, now slick with spittle. Her grip was getting harder as I saw Hajoon jerk his hips, grabbing the sheets. The image of Karina’s ass was too hard to resist as I looked down at my slick cock, covered in god knows what fluids, twitching to be tagged in. As if reading my mind, Karina looked back at me, wiggling her ass as I positioned myself behind her pert rear.

“Ass up...face...down...” I said, pressing her back forward so her rear jutted out into the sweaty night air.

Karina licked her lips, looking back at me as she took Hajoon in her mouth once more.

“Mmnghh...mmhhh...” She moaned on his cock as I wasted no time.

Thrusting forward with precision, I speared her asshole with force, pushing the excess cum from her crack out all over the sheets as a new tenant occupied her anal cavity. It was a sticky affair, her tightness lubricated by someone else’s cum, Hajoon’s to be precise. It allowed me to get in and out faster, slamming my cock into her bowels as my meat stretched her out. Looking over at Yeonjun he had passed out form tonight’s sordid events.

“Pffttt Rookie...” I said under my breath as I continued to fuck Karina’s ass.

“Unghhh...ughhh...fuckkk...nghhh.” Karina wailed, releasing Hajoon’s cock from her mouth as she felt me bottom out in her shitter.

Her walls were tightening, the cum form her ass now fully excavated as I drilled her rump from behind with deliberate pumps of my cock. Hajoon was twitching like a madman, holding Karina’s head in place while his shaft started to pulse. The first spurt getting her in her eye before she recovered and took him into her mouth once more, sucking up the rest of his cum.

“Karinaa...suck...suck me...” Hajoon said breathlessly, as Karina hoovered his cock.

The meat between her lips finally going limp as she dribbled his salty seed on his lap, resting her tired face on his thighs as I neared my crescendo too. Leaning forward and rubbing at her sex with my hand we frigged her throbbing clit together, Karina and I, hand in hand as my orgasm approached. She began to shake, her voice raspy and ragged as the contractions came. Thighs trembling, Karina started creaming on my palms again, her sticky grool was everywhere as I penetrated her ass hole.

“Cumm...fucking...cummm.” Karina yelled in rapture as I exploded inside her bowels.

A warm rush of seed flooded her anal canal, coating her inside in my sticky load as my orgasm triggered hers, trembling in my arms as I violated her asshole with my cock, pumping an ever increasing amount of sperm into her anal cavity.

“Fuck…fuck...keep pumping me.” Karina said, breathing heavy as she leant back on me.

I did what she said, flexing my hips as I fed her rump the last few spurts of my twitching cock. We were all shattered, Karina no doubt the most, her limbs turned to jelly and body covered in sweat and bodily fluids. She had been filled to the brim tonight, stuffed by three men simultaneously as we pumped our seed into her tight body. Nevertheless, the sultry vixen just looked deep into my eyes, as she flicked her hair in my direction.

“Take me home Minho...” She said, kissing me softly on the lips.

—

Driving back to my place that night with the wind blowing on my face through the open window sent a much needed shock to my system. The cool morning air hit me like freight train, bringing me back to earth as I stared at Karina sleeping in the passenger seat beside me. She was absolutely wrecked, her inner thighs still smeared in god knows who’s seed, remnants from the absolute railing she had received that evening. We were relentless, not giving her a seconds rest all night, just one position after the next, unloading our cums deep inside her writhing body till she overflowed with it all, twitching in pleasure, drunk on lust.

“Hey... Karina, we are home.” I said, scooping her up and opening the front door.

There was no response aside from a light moan as we ascended the stairs setting her down softly on my bed. Sweeping her hair to the side I stood there for a moment, admiring her beauty, tracing the outlines of her hips and waist with my eyes before a sudden vibration on the bedside table pulled me back to reality. It was Jaewook, his name was flashing up on Karina’s screen. There was a moment’s hesitation where part of me wanted to answer it and tell him all about what had just happened, but I decided against it. The cruelness of it all was strangely intoxicating, knowing and doing all this behind his back as bad as it was, was never bad enough for me to stop. I wanted her and vice versa but deep down I knew something had to give, we could not keep this secret from Jaewook for much longer.

—

“Morning sleepy head.” Karina said, dancing her fingers along my forehead.

“Uhmm...hey...you.” I replied, my eyes adjusting to the sunlight.

“How are you feeling...?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“OK...a little stretched you could say.” She replied playfully slapping my arm.

Karina had changed into a silky purple nightie, most probably after I passed out from the warm shower before bed. Studying her pale legs over the cotton sheets, I could still see the hand prints on her exposed thigh, most probably from Hajoon who really went for it that night.

“Mmmm...look what that old guy did?” Karina said, noticing the shock on my face after seeing the marks.

“Yes...we really did a number on you last night...” I replied sheepishly.

“Yes...you did...” She replied, blushing slightly as she covered up her legs under the sheets.

“Listen...about last...” I started, my voice laced in guilt seeing what she had to go through just to save my skin.

I had to admit I enjoyed it last night, it was raw, uncut pure sex. It was unlike anything I had ever done or likely ever to do again, but it came at a price. Karina and her dignity, one she once proudly wore had taken a battering that night. It was strange to think that the days leading up to it all, we both were fraught in trepidation, yet once we were in the moment, it somehow felt liberating.

“It’s ok...” She said, her eyes fixed on mine.

“Truth be told...I...” Karina stuttered slightly.

I knew what she was going to say, I could read it on her face last night, as we locked eyes and I flooded her womb for the nth time.

“You...” I said slowly.

“Liked...it...” She let out with a sigh.

Her face blew up in a bright red color as she registered what she had just said. My smile was telling, almost mocking her, to which she just hit my arm lightly and kissed me on the lips. I had a feeling that this was the case, her body betrayed her, face wincing in pleasure with each spear of cock, each flood of her chamber brought about a renewed sense of satisfaction on her face. I could tell by the way we fucked last night, it was passionate, feral, right.

“Not all of it.” She said, trying to backtrack her previous revelation.

“Really...?” I said smirking.

“Well, yes...no... I mean...I liked the feeling of being pleasured...and filled over and over again.” Karina said, her eyes glazing over like she was remembering the best parts of last night.

“I can’t explain it...it almost didn’t matter that Hajoon and Yeonjun were there...they were just props...what was important was that you were there...it’s almost like our connection hit another level...you know?” She mused.

“Primal...” I replied.

“That’s the word!” She replied, smirking before kissing me lightly on the lips.

“Well...do you want to...” I began.

“Let’s not push your luck Mister.” She said sharply, before turning to check her phone.

There was something else, I could sense it, the way she flicked her phone off and turned to me told me it was something about Jaewook. It had come to pass that the married couple had had a deep talk while I was asleep, deciding what the next steps were in their marriage. Karina had all but thrown in the towel to the protests of Jaewook who was still clinging onto a small thread of hope. They were both due to go to some camping trip to later on in that week to try and “heal” she put it while rolling her eyes. It was your standard last chance saloon talks that you hear about a hundred times over, the only difference was the last part. I was invited to this healing session.

It came to light that Jaewook’s fix that we spoke about regarding spicing things up had really gone to his head. In his desperation, he had put forward an idea to Karina of a potential threesome. Upon hearing this I burst out laughing, like I was an episode of punked or something. Karina’s eyes remained resolute, to the point that my laughter faded into thin air.

“Ok...what...you...him...I’m sorry...what?” I replied, absolutely flummoxed.

“Hold on big boy, a minute ago you were all like, let’s do this again.” Karina said mockingly.

“Yeah, that was...this...this is weird as fuck!” I replied.

“Well, it is and it isn’t, some of my girlfriends have done some suspect things in their time with their hubby.” Karina said smiling knowingly.

“But what about your lack of feelings for...” I started.

“That still stands...” Karina said coldly.

“So, this thing, he’ll thinks this will save your marriage...it...” I replied

“Won’t.” Karina interjected.

“But you still want to...” I followed up tentatively.

“Yes...” She said with a devilish grin.

“That’s cold Rina.” I said.

“Please...don’t give me that. Besides, I told him already that I would ask you this as a favor in exchange to further your career.” She replied matter of factly.

“I want- this...you...” Karina said, her voice trailing off, as her eyes took over.

“And what if I refuse.” I said with an empty threat.

Her look spoke a thousand words as she lay back down beside me, her eyes trailing my lower half of my body. I had already agreed to this fucked up threesome without saying anything and she knew it.

“Morning pump and dump?” Karina asked seductively, bribing me with her body as she unclasped her bra from under her nighty and threw it in my face.

“You are outrageous...” I replied, taking her tongue between my lips as we kissed passionately.

My hands roamed her tight frame, squeezing softly at her pert breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers as I positioned my hips between her bronze thighs.

“Show me what you got...” Karina said, biting my ear and pulling me close for another deep kiss.

We were well versed in this now, our bodies moved as one as I thrust forward without much thought, my cock piercing her wet folds in one slick movement as she welcomed my dick inside her moist cunt. The slickness of her folds creaming all over my shaft was something I was accustomed too, every inch of her pussy had been explored by my straining cock, my mouth, fingers and anything else I could fuck her with.

“God...you...stretch me out...so...good...” Karina moaned into my ear as I bottomed out inside her luscious cavern.

Her pink walls hugged at my meat, coaxing out pearls of precum from my crown as I smashed her cervix with my tip, stuffing the housewife with my cock, feeling the stretch of her cunt muscles as I penetrated her slick sex.

“Unghhh...mnghhh...yes...yesss...” Karina wailed.

My balls were slapping up against her ass as I felt her grool slather my shaft each time I pumped more of my dick into her tight womanly cunt, feeding her pussy all of my meat as I rubbed tirelessly at her throbbing clit. The stickiness of her thighs was growing, strands of her sexual juices now smearing against my hips as I whipped her legs over my shoulders and railed Karina into the mattress with my cock. Each stroke fucking her long and deep, filling her married cunt with cock as she clawed at my face, mewing at each penetrative thrust of my hips.

“Baby...baby...keep- keep...going...” Karina chanted.

Sweat was pouring from my face, dripping onto her outstretched tongue as she lapped up my salty beads of perspiration, licking up my neck as I ground my hips into her mound, burying my cock inside her pussy. The feeling of her cunt contracting around my shaft was a telling sign as Karina got up on all fours and pushed me on my back. Staring at the sultry married woman, she stalked me like a lioness, licking her lips as she crawled towards me.

“I want you...to pump me…full of your essence...” Karina whispered, taking my cock between her lips and sucking hard on my turgid member.

The housewife dipped her head low, taking my meat into the back of her throat as her excess spit leaked from the sides of her mouth. I was twitching between her lips, close to completion, I knew she wanted me to release inside her, but where was up to her. Karina kept sucking, slurping on my shaft like an ice lolly as she worked the underside of my cock with her tongue, smearing me with her warm saliva.

“Gluck...gluckk...gluckk...” Were the sounds from her mouth, her eyes watering as I held her face and began to thrust.

My balls slapped up against her chin as I penetrated her mouth with my cock, tapping her tonsils as Karina’s mouth was stuffed with my meat. Holding her hair back to let me see her suck me off with no hands, I guided her face to the exact depth I wanted, rolling my hips to feed her more dick between her soft pink lips.

“Karina...Baby I’m close...” I moaned, my eyes were straining to hold it together before she popped me free from her mouth and squeezed hard on my shaft, preventing me from exploding.

My balls ached at being denied, moments before release and she knew it, smiling cheekily at me, her face covered in a thin sheen of sweat and sex.

“Remember what I said...Pump...and...dump.” She whispered, wiggling her tight rear in my face as she licked her lips and bent over on all fours.

Who was this woman? The sexual encounter from last night had unleashed something deep within her, a ravenous goddess that had to be satiated, and satiate I would, whatever it took.

Grabbing her roughly by the hips I thrusted forwards, impaling the brunette on my length as I penetrated her sex from the rear. Her wetness was obvious, grool dribbling down the sides of her thighs as our flesh connected with a resounding slap. The grunting emanating from her lips as I pounded her pussy from behind was music to my ears as I felt the tightness of her cunt mold around my shaft, sucking me off each time I fucked my slick cock into her tight cunt.

“Unghhh...nghhh...fuckk- do it...dump...it- dump it… inside...of...me...” Karina screamed in rapture.

The aggression of my pumps was showing on her rear, fucked red and raw as I slapped her tight ass a few times while stretching her out.

I could feel her pussy start to get tighter, her walls were closing in on me as I smashed up against her cervix with my tip a few more times, pinching at her clitoris with my fingers as I desperately stuffed her married cunt with my cock.

“Karina...fuckk...” I moaned into her ear.

She was bucking her hips, her legs trembling as I felt her orgasm hit, squeezing at my shaft with a ravenous appetite as I continued to pump my hips, lifting one leg up to smash her cunt hard and deep.

“Unghhh...pump...me...I want...it, all...of...it...” Karina wailed as her climax continued through my strokes.

It was the final straw, seeing her scream and wail into the covers set me off as I erupted from the tip just as I bottomed out inside her tight cunt. The force of my climax, pumping a torrent of cream inside her marital pussy, feeding her uterus with my milky sperm as I painted her womb white with my sticky seed.

“That’s it...Baby...” Karina, said looking back, gyrating her hips as I fed her more of my pent up cum.

She was overflowing from her pink slit, yet I continued to thrust, stuffing her tight cunt with my twitching meat, forcing my warm sticky semen deep into her womb as Karina collapsed onto the pillow while I was still imbedded within her.

“Don’t- don’t...stop...” Karina whispered breathlessly as I continued to empty myself inside her pussy, flexing my hips to get every ounce of cums inside her.

We stayed, locked in this mating ritual for a good ten minutes before I disengaged with a slurp, the remnants of my seed flowing out of her moist slit almost immediately as the sultry housewife turned towards me.

“Are you still in two minds about that getaway?” She said raising her eyebrows.

“Just give me the time and the place...” I said, breathlessly, slapping her ass one last time.

#karina smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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headspace-hotel · 1 year ago

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Many people, especially USAmericans, are very resistant to knowing the plants and living according to the ways of the plants. They lash out with a mix of arrogance and fear: "Don't you know what bad things would happen if we lived a different way? There is a REASON for living this way. Would you have us go Back—backward to the time without vaccines or antibiotics????"

Ah, yes, the two immutable categories that all proposals for change fit into: Backward Change and Forward Change! Either we must invent a a futuristic, entirely new solution with SCIENCE and TECHNOLOGY that further industrializes and increases the productivity of our world, or we must give up vaccines and antibiotics and become starving illiterate medieval peasants.

Every human practice anywhere on Earth that has declined, stopped, or become displaced by another practice, was clearly objectively worse than whatever replaced it. You see, the only possible reason a way of life could decline or disappear is that it sucked and had it coming anyway!!! Pre-industrial human history is worthless except as a cautionary tale about how miserable we would all be without *checks notes* factories, fossil fuels and colonialism. Obviously!

Anyway, who do you think benefits from the idea that pesticide-dependent, corporate-controlled industrialized monoculture farming liberates us all from spending our short, painful lives as filthy, miserable peasants toiling in the fields?

First of all, I think it's silly to act like farming is a uniquely awful way to live. I can't believe I have to say this, but the awful part of being a medieval peasant was the oppression and poverty, not the fact that harvesting wheat is a lot of work and cows are stinky. Same goes for farm labor in the modern USA: the bad part is that most people working farms are undocumented migrant workers that are getting treated like garbage and who can't complain about it because their boss will rat them out to ICE.

Work is just work. Any work has dignity when the people doing it are paid properly and not being abused. Abuse and human trafficking is rampant in agriculture, but industrialization and consolidation of small farms into gigantic corporate owned farms sure as hell isn't making it better.

Is working on a farm somehow more miserable than working in a factory, a fast food restaurant, or a retail store? Give me a break. "At least I'm not doing physical labor in the sun," you say, at your job where you're forced to stand on concrete for 8 hours and develop chronic pain by age 24.

When you read about small farmers going out of business because of huge corporations, none of them are going "Yay! Now that Giant Corporation has swallowed up all the farms in the area, we can all enjoy the luxurious privileges of the industrial era, like working RETAIL!" What you do see a lot of is farmers bitterly grieving the loss of their way of life.

And also, the fact is, sustainable forms of polyculture farming that create a functional ecosystem made up of many different useful and edible plants are actually way MORE efficient at producing food than a monoculture. The reason we don't do it as much, is that it can't be industrialized where everything is harvested with machines.

Some places folks are starting to get the idea and planting two crops together in alternating rows, letting the mutualistic relationship between plants boost the yields of both, but indigenous people in many parts of the world have been doing this stuff basically forever. I read about a style of agroforestry from Central America that has TWENTY crops all together on the same field.

Our modern system of farming is necessary for feeding the world? Bullshit! Our technology is very powerful and useful, but our harmful monocultures, dangerous pesticides, and wasteful usage of land and resources are making the system very inefficient and severely degrading nature's ability to provide for us.

What is needed, is a SYNTHESIS of the power and insights of technology and science, with the ancient wisdom and knowledge gained by closely and carefully observing Nature. We do not need to reject one, to embrace the other! They should be friends!

Our system thinks land is only used for one thing at a time. Even our science often thinks this way. A corn field has the purpose of producing corn, and no other purpose, so all other plants in the corn must be killed, and it must be a monoculture of only corn.

But this means that the symbiosis between different plants that help each other is destroyed, so we must pollute the earth with fertilizers that wash into bodies of water and cause eutrophication, where algae explode in number and turn the water to green goo. Nature always has variety and diversity with many plants sharing the same space. It supports much more animal life (we are animals!) this way. The Three Sisters" are the perfect example of mutualism between plants being used in an agricultural environment. The planting of corn, beans, and squash together has been traditionally used clear across the North American continent.

And in North America, the weeds we have here are mostly edible plants too. Some of them were even domesticated themselves! Imagine a garden where every weed that pops up is also an edible or otherwise useful crop, and therefore a welcomed friend! So when weeds like Amaranth and Sunflower pop up in your field, that should not be a cause for alarm, but rather the system of symbiosis working as it should.

A field of one single crop is limited in how much it can produce, because one crop fits into a single niche in what should be a whole ecosystem, and worse, it requires artificial inputs to make up for what the rest of the plant community would normally provide. The field with twenty crops does not produce the same amount as the monoculture field divided in twenty ways, but instead produces much more while being a habitat for wild animals, because each plant has its own niche.

#plants #plantarchy #the ways of the plants

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reminiscingtonight · 3 months ago

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You Should Talk

Georgia Stanway x Reader

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Inspired by the one and only Fletcher song

[WOSO Masterlist]

The room falls silent the second the door slams shut behind you.

An uncomfortable tension settles as you breathe out noisily through your nose.

It’s hard to temper the anger simmering in your veins, your glare sharp enough to shake even those who have attempted to stay on the sidelines.

“Out. All of you,” you bite out, eyes never leaving your target.

Georgia glares back, raising her chin just a bit back in challenge.

Your hackles rise on instinct, eyes flashing dangerously when no one moves.

“I said leave.”

Clothes are shoved haphazardly into bags as the last stragglers shoot out behind you, none of the girls daring to meet your eyes as they escape to safety.

The benefits of being one of the last ones to the locker room generally meant less girls hanging around while you get your things together. A downside is catching conversations that clearly weren’t meant for your own ears.

Keira pauses awkwardly in front of you, grimacing when you stare right through her, eyes never leaving Georgia’s. “Sorry. Don’t take it out too much on her. You know how she is when she’s unhappy.”

Sometimes you love how caring Keira is. How she’s always driven to mediate and fix things even if she’s not involved.

Today’s not one of those days.

Keira sighs when you don’t acknowledge her, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Georgia before slipping out behind you

You barely wait for the door to click shut before you’re stalking forward.

It’s no surprise that everything’s led to this. From the moment camp started things have been frosty. Leah and Keira have been doing their best to keep you two separate, nothing good ever coming out of a volatile break up. But that didn’t stop the snide comments, the muttered insults. Everywhere you turned it was like Georgia was there with her prickly tongue, each word cutting as much as the last.

The last straw were those words you heard her complaining to Keira just mere seconds ago.

“You're one to talk, Stanway. I’m the insane one?"

Georgia rolls her eyes, arms crossing in front of her.

“I’m the one who ruins everything? Tell me how exactly me wanting to spend time with my girlfriend ruins things.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“No I apparently don’t! Because why am I the insane one for being upset that you never wanted to spend time with me?”

Georgia scoffs, pushing up to meet your fire with fire. “I play in Germany! It’s not like I could pop over for an hour every time you wanted to see me!”

“Oh my god, that’s not what I meant and you know that.” You press an accusatory finger against her chest, making sure to add pressure every time Georgia tries to brush your hand aside. “All I wanted was more effort. You want to tell me how many video dates you blew off so you could be out with your German friends? Or how many times you canceled plans to come home so you could jet off somewhere else?”

“Well I’m sorry for actually having a life. When you have a girlfriend who spends her time bitching at you about everything she thinks you’re doing wrong you’d skip out on calls too.”

“Oh fuck you!”

“You wish!” Georgia shouts back.

Though you scrub angrily at your face, you’re not fast enough to hide the evidence of just how hard Georgia’s words have hurt you. Georgia’s face flickers a bit, her brash demeanor softening a bit when she catches the tears rolling down your cheeks.

Unable to stop the stinging in your eyes, you push past her to your locker before she can say anything else. If Georgia wants to act like you’re the worst person to ever walk the earth you’ll just have to do the exact same.

In the back of your anger hazed brain, you register the way Georgia lingers. She headed for the door the second you started shoving your clothes into your bag, neither of you wanting to spend more time arguing about how much you hated the other, but for some reason she just hasn’t left yet.

You throw your bag over your shoulder, rolling your eyes when you spot Georgia uselessly tugging at the door. “What are you doing? Just open it.”

“You think I’m trying to spend more time than necessary with you?” she shoots back. “This bloody door just won’t open.”

“What do you mean it won’t open?”

“What else could I mean?” Georgia scoffs before banging on the door again. “Hello? Can anyone hear us? We’re trapped in here!”

“Clearly no one can hear us otherwise we wouldn’t be locked in here.”

“Great. Just fucking great,” Georgia mutters before sliding down onto the floor. Might as well get comfortable if you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future.

“Being locked in a room with your ex girlfriend that miserable of an act for you?” you can’t help but laugh bitterly.

“You broke up with me,” she grits out, purposefully not looking your way.

You roll your eyes. “That’s why you’ve been acting like a child all camp? Because I broke up with you?”

If you cared more about your own personal safety and peace of mind you should maybe do a better job of keeping your mouth shut. Because the way Georgia’s nearly snapping her teeth at you tells you just exactly how endearing she finds the lip you’re giving her. But you're too far gone to care at this point, wanting Georgia to feel nothing if just a piece of how you've been feeling these past couple months.

Georgia scoffs but you cut her off before she can say another word.

“No, you listen to me, Georgia. I broke up with you because you gave up first. You clearly wanted an out so I gave it to you.”

“Don’t do that!” she snaps. “Don’t blame it all on me. It takes two to fuck things up.”

“Don’t give me that ‘woe is me’ crap. You gave up long before I did and you know it.”

“What did you want me to do? You kept pestering me about your mum and then you showed up where I work to fight about it! How am I the bad guy here? You’re the insane one for doing that!”

“For the last time, I didn’t go to Bayern to fight with you, you self-centered asshole!” You throw your hands up in frustration. What you really wanted to do was throw your boots at her, but the thought of having to help Georgia stop any bleeding if you actually made contact was the only thing stopping you from doing so. “I was touring the training grounds because they offered me a contract. I wanted to check it out before making any decisions.”

The day you landed in Germany still haunts you. You traveled straight from the Colney to the airport to Bayern’s practice grounds. It was only ever supposed to be a quick trip. Explore the training facility, talk with a few of the execs, maybe surprise Georgia with a quick dinner before returning to London.

What you didn’t expect was to run right into your girlfriend after making your first loop around the area.

Georgia was elated at first, but you could spot the apprehension settle in just as quick. Making your excuses she had grabbed your wrist and dragged you into a deserted room.

Accusations were thrown.

“Are you seriously here to lecture me in person about missing your mum’s birthday next week?”

“What’s so wrong with me being here? Got a secret girlfriend you’re trying to hide?”

Old wounds were rehashed.

“Stop being so bloody insecure!”

“Quit being such an attention whore then!”

By the time you left it was with a broken heart, a broken relationship, and a newfound resolve to stay the hell out of Germany. The national team was something you couldn’t, and wouldn’t, get out of, but spending everyday playing club level with your ex was something you’d never do.

When your words sink in, Georgia freezes. Her mouth drops open, face one of surprise and conflicted regret. “I didn’t-- You… No one told me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you mutter, picking at a thread on your sweater. “So much for that.”

The bad times were bad, you won’t deny it. Both you and Georgia are hotheaded enough that arguments weren’t rare to come around. You always end up resolving them, but frustrations about being so far away from each other mixed with emotions neither of you could adequately express bubbled over until you called it quits.

Yeah, maybe you should’ve tried harder, but in the end you were just too defeated to do so.

Although things crashed and burned horrifically, however, you couldn’t deny how much you still loved her. There would always be a part of you that belonged to Georgia, no matter how infuriating you found her.

You’ve known each other since you were children, the relationship something everyone expected to happen. Everyone always joked about the two of you dating when you were younger, the affection you had for each other always superseding those of regular friends. When Georgia asked you out in the middle of the night during one of your youth camps, you couldn’t help but say yes.

For years the two of you made the distance work. Georgia was always in and around the Manchester area while you were in London yourself. You always made sure to carve out enough time to still travel to see one another, quality time important to the two of you.

So no, distance wasn’t something new to your relationship. But for some reason the distance between England and Germany proved to be too much for the two of you to bear.

Germany was something you could never take away from Georgia. From the moment she told you about Bayern’s offer, you knew she was going to accept it. It was something you knew Georgia has always wanted to do, play in a new league, experience a different environment. And of course you were happy for her. You’d never be anything less than proud of everything your girlfriend has achieved. But if you had known just how badly the move would’ve messed up your relationship maybe you would’ve tried harder to convince her to stay.

So who knows, maybe in another universe the two of you made the distance work. Maybe you brought up the things that bugged you before they turned into something bigger than it was. Maybe you made the move to Germany and the two of you lived happily ever after.

But this is here and now, and there’s no denying how much Georgia’s hurt you (and how much you’ve hurt her back).

“You’re an asshole, Georgia Stanway.”

Georgia sighs, shutting her eyes as she lets her head thump against the locker behind her. It’s a thump of defeat, one that tells you everything you need to know about how much Georgia wished she did things differently. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You’re silent for a moment as you take her in. It’s hard to miss the bags under her eyes, the barely existent chewed down nails, the minute details that showed just how much Georgia’s been hurting too.

You let your head thump backward too.

“I’m sorry too.”

When the doors are unlocked hours later, Leah finally having enough mind to read her texts and discover the lock-in, she’s expecting nothing short of carnage. What she sees instead is the two of you asleep, your head on Georgia’s shoulder as your hands stay clasped together.

#georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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genderqueerdykes · 2 months ago

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Is it true that T gel is not as effective as shots are and that you cannot truly transition if you get the gel? Asking as a transmasc whos deathly afraid of needles

hello there!

fortunately, nope, that's not true! that's misinformation that gets spread around like crazy. every single person on this earth will respond differently to medications- just because one person did not receive the benefits they wanted from topical hormone gels (estrogen or testosterone) does not mean everyone else will have the same reaction!

there are folks who will get nothing out of it at all due to certain health conditions, genetics, or other factors, but that does not make the medication wholesale ineffective. there are also people who do not respond well to or process injectable testosterone- every person reacts to medications differently. it's best to take it on a case-by-case basis, as some won't get anything, but some will see the full spectrum of effects. it just depends on your body chemistry and how you personally react to medications

there are many trans people who transition with T gel only! you can absolutely fully medically transition with T gel. you are able to adjust your dose as needed, so you can tailor it to your needs just like injectable T. i took topical T for a few years and it still gave me all the benefits of injectable! including stopping my periods

i think some people struggle with T gel because they do not follow the instructions properly. i've actually met a few transmascs who shower their T gel off RIGHT after they've put it on, thinking the medication absorbs immediately. it is recommended to not shower or swim for several hours (usually around the 4 - 5 hour mark) to make sure all of the medication absorbs. if you do this and are not showing results from your gel, this is why. please don't immediately shower your T gel off! a lot of people also apply their gel to the wrong areas of the body: if you start topical T, your specific formulation will come with a guide showing you where to apply it. applying it in other areas may not work as well

it's a completely viable option, especially for people with shaky hands, needle trauma, or are squeamish. i hope that helps! topical T is not "weaker" than injectable- your skin is actually one of the areas of your body that has the some of the highest bioavailability when it comes to medications, meaning that your skin is excellent at absorbing topical medications and getting as much as possible out of them. as long as you do not have a condition that makes it difficult for your skin to absorb medications, its should affect you just as much as injectable would.

this is not a guarantee, as everyone is affected by medications differently. you may not have a condition that prevents you from absorbing medication through the skin and still struggle. everyone reacts differently- genetics, body chemistry, there are a lot of factors that can change how a person will react. it will depend greatly on who you are as a person.

usually there's not really a way to tell if it will work for someone until they try, so your mileage will vary, but the topical T is not on the whole weaker, or ineffective. it's important to talk about how it doesn't affect some people, but it's also important to talk about how it works great for many. like any medication, experiences with it will vary greatly from person to person and that's not a reflection that the medication is bad or ineffective, that's just normal for medication.

hope that helps!

#asks #answers #testosterone #hrt #hormones #hormone replacement therapy #medical transition #topical testosterone #topical t

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months ago

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Kelly and Zach Weinersmith’s “A City On Mars”

In A City On Mars, biologist Kelly Weinersmith and cartoonist Zach Weinersmith set out to investigate the governance challenges of the impending space settlements they were told were just over the horizon. Instead, they discovered that humans aren't going to be settling space for a very long time, and so they wrote a book about that instead:

https://www.acityonmars.com/

The Weinersmiths make the (convincing) case that ever aspect of space settlement is vastly beyond our current or reasonably foreseeable technical capability. What's more, every argument in favor of pursuing space settlement is errant nonsense. And finally: all the energy we are putting into space settlement actually holds back real space science, which offers numerous benefits to our species and planet (and is just darned cool).

Every place we might settle in space – giant rotating rings, the Moon, Mars – is vastly more hostile than Earth. Not just more hostile than Earth as it stands today – the most degraded, climate-wracked, nuke-blasted Earth you can imagine is a paradise of habitability compared to anything else. Mars is covered in poison and the sky disappears under planet-sized storms that go on and on. The Moon is covered in black-lung-causing, razor-sharp, electrostatically charged dust. Everything is radioactive. There's virtually no water. There are temperature swings of hundreds of degrees every couple of hours or weeks. You're completely out of range of resupply, emergency help, or, you know, air.

There's Helium 3 on the Moon, but not much of it, and there is no universe in which is it cheaper to mine for Helium 3 on the Moon than it is to mine for it on Earth. That's generally true of anything we might bring back from space, up to and including continent-sized chunks of asteroid platinum.

Going to space doesn't end war. The countries that have gone to space are among the most militarily belligerent in human history. The people who've been to space have come back perfectly prepared to wage war.

Going to space won't save us from the climate emergency. The unimaginably vast trove of material and the energy and advanced technology needed to lift it off Earth and get it to Mars is orders of magnitude more material and energy than we would need to resolve the actual climate emergency here.

We aren't anywhere near being a "multiplanetary species." The number of humans you need in a colony to establish a new population is hard to estimate, but it's very large. Larger than we can foreseeably establish on the Moon, on Mars, or on a space-station. But even if we could establish such a colony, there's little evidence that it could sustain itself – not only are we a very, very long way off from such a population being able to satisfy its material needs off-planet, but we have little reason to believe that children could gestate, be born, and grow to adulthood off-planet.

To top it all off, there's space law – the inciting subject matter for this excellent book. There's a lot of space law, and while there are some areas of ambiguity, the claims of would-be space entrepreneurs about how their plans are permissible under the settled parts of space law don't hold up. But those claims are robust compared to claims that space law will simply sublimate into its constituent molecules when exposed to the reality of space travel, space settlement, and (most importantly) space extraction.

Space law doesn't exist in a vacuum (rimshot). It is parallel to – and shares history with – laws regarding Antarctica, the ocean's surface, and the ocean's floor. These laws relate to territories that are both vastly easier to access and far more densely populated by valuable natural resources. The fact that they remain operative in the face of economic imperatives demands that space settlement advocates offer a more convincing account than "money talks, bullshit walks, space law is toast the minute we land on a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid."

The Weinersmiths have such an account in defense of space law: namely, that space law, and its terrestrial analogs, constitute a durable means of resolving conflicts that would otherwise give rise to outcomes that are far worse for science, entrepreneurship, human thriving or nation-building than the impediments these laws represent.

What's more, space law is enforceable. Not only would any space settlement be terribly, urgently dependent on support from Earth for the long-foreseeable future, but every asteroid miner, Lunar He3 exporter and Martian potato-farmer hoping to monetize their products would have an enforcement nexus with a terrestrial nation and thus the courts of that nation.

But the Weinersmiths aren't anti-space. They aren't even anti-space-settlement. Rather, they argue that the path to space-based scientific breakthroughs, exploration of our solar system, and a deeper understanding of our moral standing in a vast universe cannot start with space settlements.

Landing people on the Moon or Mars any time soon is a stunt – a very, very expensive stunt. These boondoggles aren't just terribly risky (though they are – people who attempt space settlement are very likely to die horribly and after not very long), they come with price-tags that would pay for meaningful space science. For the price of a crewed return trip to Mars, you could put multiple robots onto every significant object in our solar system, and pilot an appreciable fleet of these robot explorers back to Earth with samples.

For the cost of a tiny, fraught, lethal Moon-base, we could create hundreds of experiments in creating efficient, long-term, closed biospheres for human life.

That's the crux of the Weinersmiths' argument: if you want to establish space settlements, you need to do a bunch of other stuff first, like figure out life-support, learn more about our celestial neighbors, and vastly improve our robotics. If you want to create stable space-settlements, you'll need to create robust governance systems – space law that you can count on, rather than space law that you plan on shoving out the airlock. If you want humans to reproduce in space – a necessary precondition for a space settlement that lasts more than a single human lifespan – then we need to do things like breed multiple generations of rodents and other animals, on space stations.

Space is amazing. Space science is amazing. Crewed scientific space missions are amazing. But space isn't amazing because it offers a "Plan B" for an Earth that is imperiled by humanity's recklessness. Space isn't amazing because it offers unparalleled material wealth, or unlimited energy, or a chance to live without laws or governance. It's not amazing because it will end war by mixing the sensawunda of the "Pale Blue Dot" with the lebensraum of an infinite universe.

A science-driven approach to space offers many dividends for our species and planet. If we can figure out how to extract resources as dispersed as Lunar He3 or asteroid ice, we'll have solved problems like extracting tons of gold from the ocean or conflict minerals from landfill sites, these being several orders of magnitude more resource-dense than space. If we can figure out how to create self-sustaining terraria for large human populations in the radiation-, heat- and cold-blasted environs of space, we will have learned vital things about our own planet's ecosystems. If we can build the robots that are necessary for supporting a space society, we will have learned how to build robots that take up the most dangerous and unpleasant tasks that human workers perform on Earth today.

In other words, it's not just that we should solve Earth's problems before attempting space settlement – it's that we can't settle space until we figure out the solutions to Earth's problems. Earth's problems are far simpler than the problems of space settlement.

As I read the Weinersmiths' critique of space settlement, I kept thinking of the pointless AI debates I keep getting dragged into. Arguments for space settlement that turn on existential risks (like humanity being wiped out by comets, sunspots, nuclear armageddon or climate collapse) sound an awful lot like the arguments about "AI safety" – the "risk" that the plausible sentence generator is on the verge of becoming conscious and turning us all into paperclips.

Both arguments are part of a sales-pitch for investment in commercial ventures that have no plausible commercial case, but whose backers are hoping to get rich anyway, and are (often) sincerely besotted with their own fantasies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Both AI and space settlement pass over the real risks, such as the climate consequences of their deployment, or the labor conditions associated with their production. After all, when you're heading off existential risk, you don't stop to worry about some carbon emissions or wage theft.

And critically, both ignore the useful (but resolutely noncommercial) ways that AI or space science can benefit our species. AI radiology analysis might be useful as an adjunct to human radiological analysis, but that is more expensive, not less. Space science might help us learn to use our materials more efficiently on Earth, and that will come long before anyone makes rendezvous with a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid.

There are beneficial uses for LLMs. When the Human Rights Data Analysis Group uses an LLM to help the Innocence Project New Orleans extract and categorize officer information from wrongful conviction records, they are doing something valuable and important:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

It's socially important work, a form of automation that is an unalloyed good, but you won't hear about it from LLM advocates. No one is gonna get rich on improving the efficiency of overturning wrongful convictions with natural language processing. You can't inflate a stock bubble with the Innocence Project.

By the same token, learning about improving gestational health by breeding multigenerational mouse families in geosynchronous orbit is no way to get a billionaire tech baron to commit $250 billion to space science. But that's not an argument against emphasizing real science that really benefits our whole species. It's an argument for taking away capital allocation authority from tech billionaires.

I'm a science fiction writer. I love stories about space. But I can distinguish fantasy from reality and thought experiments from suggestions. Kim Stanley Robinson's 2015 novel Aurora – about failed space settlement – is every bit as fascinating and inspirational as "golden age" sf:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/11/02/kim-stanley-robinsons-aurora-space-is-bigger-than-you-think/

But still, it inspired howls of outrage from would-be space colonists. So much so that Stan wrote a brilliant essay explaining what we were all missing about space settlement, which I published:

https://boingboing.net/2015/11/16/our-generation-ships-will-sink.html

With City on Mars, the Weinersmiths aren't making the case for giving up on space, nor are they trying to strip space of its romance and excitement. They're trying to get us to focus on the beneficial, exciting, serious space science we can do right now, not just because it's attainable and useful – but because it is a necessary precondition for any actual space settlement in the distant future.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

#pluralistic #books #reviews #space #bezzles #mars #spacex #robots #science #space science #space travel #space settlement #space colonization

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anika-ann · 2 months ago

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Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

#smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #restless hearts #anika ann #anika writes

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