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Appreciation post for this gif because it gets me giddy 🤭🤭🤭

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They are the blueprint I love them so much

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HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter solider was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter solider who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr. (roughly edited)

<- previous chapter

PART FOUR —

— LIKE MACHINES DO

the winter solider was awake before the sun began to rise because he hadn’t slept.

he could not lay still. it was a bad habit of his that you learned to coexist with having to share a room with him. he would rattle the whole bunk tossing and turning as he tried his hardest to settle. his footsteps against the cold stone floor of your bedroom cell were an ambiance that you grew to find soothing.

in the hotel room now, it was no different.

as much as he wanted to lay beside you — cupping your waist in his hands, tangling his legs with yours, and keeping his face tucked down into the warmth of your cleavage — he couldn’t.

he tried.

he really did.

he focused on the way your heart sounded below his ear. a steady, even tempo. he was grateful to hear it. it meant you were here— that you were real.

most of the time, he didn’t know what was real.

he rose out of bed as quiet as a mouse. he pulled on his boxers and pushed his long hair out of his face. the room was dark and he intended on keeping it that way as to not disturb you.

he wouldn’t let anything ruin the time you had to rest.

so he watched you from where he sat by the window in complete and total silence.

when you finally stirred in the sheets, the sun was cresting on the horizon. when you rolled over onto your side and stretched out your limbs, you saw him. he was a shadow in the corner of the room dressed in his gear.

the leather was snug. the padding he wore accentuated the muscles in his arm— the curves of his waist. the straps of his harness hugged his figure and held every piece of weaponry that he would need out on the field. extra clips. extra magazines. bombs. too many knives to count. guns by his thighs. a gun behind the back of his neck. a gun on the back of his belt. his gleaming vibranium arm with the red star had never looked more intimidating.

and that mask.

all you could see of his face were his icy blue eyes and those dark, brooding eyebrows.

you had seen him in his gear too many times to count but it never seemed to lose its glamor.

he scared you down to the marrow of your bones and yet you wanted to tug him over by his belt and lay yourself bare for him despite it.

the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen as you got out of bed. neither of you said a word. he didn’t bother looking away as you got dressed into your own gear. despite being assigned to the ground, you’d be suited up, too. it mattered little who saw you once you were there. the worst thing that could happen on a mission was that either of you died.

murder was never discreet.

it was always messy.

you wouldn’t be deployed on the street until after agent fury was already done enjoying his pizza, anyways. by the time he saw you on his walk back—he wouldn’t.

winter did not miss.

you slipped on your gloves and tightened them around your wrists. you smirked as you felt your guns click into their holsters. you looked up as he slid the last one into place behind your back.

he brushed the side of his face against yours and murmured, “remember what i told you.”

“it wont come to that.” you leaned back into him and kissed the mouth of his mask. “but i remember.”

you’d done this countless times.

this would be no different than the rest.

you’d be on a plane home before sunset.

and the two of you would be cold on ice before tomorrow ended.

— �� —

the ironwork offices consisted of an entire floor of cluttered, abandoned workrooms on the top level of a building soon to be torn down. the offices had been moved closer to the factory district where the company had their main warehouses located. the building was a street over from the cafe on the opposite side; but the top floors towered over the building in front of it and overlooked the cafe perfectly. it was a far enough distance to keep the high-rise team out of sight.

when you and the winter solider arrived, the officers and the strike team were already there.

but there were more.

many, many more.

the room was full of hydra guards in bulletproof armor and masks that covered every inches of their faces. karov was handing all of them ear pieces and synching them onto the same channel.

you looked up at him. “always more…”

“always more,” he agreed.

the members of the strike team stood lining the back wall after they were given their ear pieces. the sunlight spilling in through the windows stopped right before the tips of their boots. nikta was hunched over a laptop in one of the cubicles, flipping through the real-time surveillance footage of the streets in the area.

his watched beeped.

“ten minutes.” nikta announced.

you placed down the duffle bag you carried around your shoulder and he kneeled beside you. unzipping the bag, winter pulled out his sniper. he handed it over to you. you popped in the magazine as he tossed it to you and switched the safety off. you planted your feet and raised the scope to your eye. you tweaked knobs to align the elevation.

you handed him the sniper and he took it as he stood. he raised it, looking through the scope.

he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

you could feel his smile through his mask.

“solider.”

he strapped the gun over his back and turned on queue towards karov. “ready to comply.”

“fangs,” nikta said.

your jaw tightened.

you didn’t like that nickname.

you never had.

but there were worse things to be called.

“officer,” you said as you approached.

“this is where we will be positioned.” nikta said, handing you the laptop. he pointed to the screen. the cafe had a line out the door. it must’ve been well known. that many people meant for more cover. “when nick passes the light post, the winter solider will take his shot.”

you glanced at the officer as you handed him back his laptop.

“come get your ear piece, pet.” karov said, waving you over before nikta could say anything further.

you grimaced under your mask.

that was the worst name.

“go,” nikta said, turning back towards the desk.

you stood still as karov placed the metal piece into your ear. you asked softly, “why so many?”

karov knew what you were asking. “this is no stroll in the park, pet. hydra would never step against any shield agents without heads to replace the fallen in our ranks in the case of a misstep.”

“but the solider won’t miss.” you said, looking down at the short, doggish officer.

he said nothing. he didn’t bother to meet your gaze. he tapped the metal in your ear twice and you heard soft static crackle. you clicked the button on the inside of your collar twice.

“solider,” karov said with a nod his way.

winter raised his hand to his throat and pressed the button inside his collar. his voice buzzed in your ear, “test. test. test.”

“copy,” you said.

winter nodded to karov. your ear pieces were synched. you’d be able to hear each other within a range of ten miles. any more than that and you’d lose connection.

it was how he always know where to find you when you came to after one of your bloodlust spells.

nikita’s watch beeped.

“it’s time.”

— ☆ —

the streets were crowded with people moving in every direction. trying to track one person was like looking for a needle in a haystack to most.

nicholas fury could have been beacon of shining light to the two of you.

you stood by the corner window together and watched as he passed by the cafe. dressed in a navy suit with sunglasses on, he was keen on enjoying his lunch break at his favorite pizza place. most days he had the pizza. today was different. he planned to order one of their italian subs.

it was the last time he would visit russo’s pizza.

he would not make it passed the cafe once the clock struck 2:22pm.

“alright,” nikta said. “ground team, let’s move.”

you and winter met each others eyes and shared a fleeting look that gnawed at what lay cold and beating behind your ribs.

he pulled a knife from his baldric and twirled it between his fingers. he slid it into place into the strap across your chest. you grazed the handle with your fingers without looking away from his eyes.

“don’t miss,” you said. he could hear the smile in your voice. “you owe me a hundred bucks if you do.”

“i don’t have a hundred bucks.” he said with a smug roll of his shoulders, “and i won’t.”

you grabbed his arm before he could kneel at his perch and ready his gun. he dipped his head instinctively as you pulled him in.

“we are compromised.” you whispered into his ear. you spoke in romanian and you spoke fast. “i can’t tell you which of them is the rat but i know its one of them. thats why there are extra guards. one of them doesn’t trust the other.”

“shoot who needs to go down, winter, even if that person in your sights is not agent fury.”

his brows pinched together as he looked down at you. he tipped his head, eyes flicking passed you at the two officers before landing back on you.

you nodded once, searching for any hint that he understood.

he loaded his gun. “good luck, doll.”

you turned away without another word and slipped on the long, black trench coat that would hide your gear as karov held it for you.

your mask hid your smile.

you made sure your ear piece was on one last time before you followed officer nikta and the — now four instead of two — strike team soldiers out of the room.

“eyes up,” nikta said as you descended the steps behind the strike team. “and stay on guard.”

it was incredibly bright outside. with the sun just passed it highest point, the glare took your unaccustomed eyes time to adjust to. the six of you crossed the street at different times. nikta first. the strike guards in pairs after him. you last.

you could feel him watching you through the scope of his gun as you took your spot by the lightpost.

nikta was to your left, rummaging through the newspaper box. he opened it up and began to read. the strike team guards sat spread out at the outdoor tables lining the sidewalk.

the minutes ticked by.

“look alive, little monster.”

you lifted your gaze just enough to catch sight of the window he was perched in, but he was impossible to see. he was shrunken by distance and cloaked by shadow within the building.

“one hundred bucks if you blow it, winter.”

you heard him scoff out a laugh through comms and it made you grin under your mask. you glanced down at your wrist and pulled the edge of your glove down.

{ 2:20 }

“two minutes.”

“copy.”

you pulled your sleeve down and turned. you scanned face after face as they passed by. with each second that ticked by, you felt your heart start to race. your hands were sweaty in your gloves and you could feel your blood rushing through your veins.

you could feel his gaze shift from behind the scope.

“target sited.”

your eyes jumped from face to face.

and then you saw him.

with a half-finished bottle of coca-cola in his hand and a toothpick in his mouth, he was entirely and completely unaware of the danger that he was ten steps away from.

as nicholas fury approached the point of no return, he reached up and pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose.

ice shot through you as he looked into your eyes with his one good one— the other scarred and white.

time came to a crawl.

bang!

you flinched as the gun went off right by your head.

the smoke from the barrel wafted off the gun in nikta’s hand. you could taste it in your mask. it burned your eyes.

you turned, following the straight shot of his arm.

nikta aimed for the window.

pop! pop! pop! pop!

nick fury pulled his gun from the back of his belt and and shot the strike soldiers in the chaos unfolding on the street.

it all came rushing back to speed as nikta turned his gun towards you. you pulled the knife from the strap on your chest and threw it. he fell like a bag of sand as it struck him in the chest.

you reached back to unclasp your mask from your face, teeth bared for the kill as you turned towards the one-eyed agent who had you in his sights.

the clasp refused to come undone.

panic shot through you like a bullet.

nikta tampered with your gear.

“go, go, go!” shouted voices from above as shield agents descended from the rooftops.

a hale storm of bullets thundered with fury and whizzed through the air. screams of terror pierced your ears like knives as the shield agents on descending lines went limp. blood sprayed like rain across the street.

“hostile up top! twelve o’clock!” fury yelled, diving down out of sight.

you looked up.

and you saw him.

with two guns in his hands, the winter solider was raining hell from the rooftop of the ironworks office with the guards of the strike team.

karov was nowhere to be seen.

“i told you to run.”

at the sound of his voice in your ear, your muscles sprang into action and you took off.

bullets shot passed your head as you ran straight into the street. cars honked and breaks screeched. in the chaos of the city under fire, you ran into the commotion of the traffic filled street interrupted by the running crowd.

“nikta! it was nikta!” you shouted over the noise. you pulled your guns from your thigh holsters and glanced behind you. “he screwed up my mask! i can’t get it off!”

“i know.”

“he shot at you!”

“he missed.”

you pulled the trigger and a bullet flew into the shoulder of one of the shield agents hot on your trail. he dropped to the ground but you didn’t see. you shoved passed people as you turned the corner.

round the street and get to him.

that’s all you had to do.

once you were with him, the rest would make sense.

tires screeched and you turned to see a massive armored truck block the end of the road. agents came spilling out of it like a broken damn.

there were too many agents on the ground and it was only you facing them head on.

but you had eyes above.

“left!”

you extended your left hand and pulled the trigger.

another agent down.

“two behind you!”

you spun around and popped two shots. they were dead before they hit the ground.

“get down now!”

you hit the deck and rolled underneath an abandoned car. you looked your your right and watched the shield truck blow. fire and rubbled shot out everywhere as it exploded.

you crawled out from underneath the car and you shot off into a sprint.

and so did the bullet from nick fury’s gun.

you stumbled into the street as the bullet struck you through the lower back.

you touched your stomach and felt the hot, wet mess begin to spread through your gear.

car breaks whined and hissed at you like a feral cat. the smell of burned rubber suffocated you in your mask. the car tapped your hips and you stared at the driver through your wet lashes. you slammed your bloody hand onto the car as your core weakened, grasping for any leverage you had to stay standing.

“i’m hit…” you whispered.

you grunted as you looked down again. blood was pouring out of you like a bubbling faucet. it ruined the front of this poor lady’s yellow punch buggy. you glanced around you as shield agents swarmed the street and circled you with their guns drawn.

“james,” you breathed his name. “i’m hit.”

“i know, baby. im coming.”

the explosions sent you toppling over and you hit the ground hard. one after the other they went off like crackling fireworks. agents and civilians alike were blown back— blown to pieces alongside cement and stone as he shot grenades into the crowds. the strike team above picked off agent after agent despite the bullets flying back at them.

the plan to kill nick fury had failed.

the mission now was to retrieve you and go.

it was like watching lucifer fall from heaven.

the winter solider jumped off the rooftop and he landed atop one of the burning cars. he walked through the flames and off the windshield with his eyes set on nothing but you.

you reached for him as he kneeled down— but you saw the shadow behind him.

“watch out!” you screamed.

he whipped around and grabbed the nozzle of the gun with his metal hand. the shot fired— but the bullet flatted against his vibranium palm.

winter’s eye twitched and nick fury’s chest fell.

“well, shit…”

you pushed yourself away, clutching your wound as winter grabbed the shield agent by the collar of his shirt and rammed him down into the street. you lost sight of him behind the car. you could hear his feral, tight grunts and the whirr of his metal arm.

pop! pop! pop!

the windows shattered and you raised your arm to shield your face. the car rattled as one of them slammed into it.

you needed to move.

right now.

you cried out as you were pulled to your feet. panic shot through you and you reached for your knives, but the sight of his face drew your brows together in a hard line.

“hurry now, pet, now is not the time to freeze.” karov said as he slid your arm over his shoulder. he brought his hand to his throat and pressed the button on his collar. “weapon-v secure. evacuating to your position now. she’s hit. ready aide.”

you cried out as he pulled you along step after step. you tried to look up— look anywhere that wasn’t your feet — but the world was spinning. tears and sweat wet your face. with each step, you groaned.

“bucky…” you looked over your shoulder to try and see him.

blood splattered across the side of your face as a bullet struck karov through the throat.

you tried to catch him.

you tried to hold him upright.

you fell to the ground with him and landed on your back. you screamed in terror and he choked above you. he clawed at his throat, gasping and suffocating on blood. you titled your head back squeezed your eyes shut as blood sprayed across your face and burned your eyes.

“fuck!” you yelled, trying to shove him off you. “oh, fuck! fuck!”

you felt the weight of him get shoved away. your hands flew to your face— but you were grabbed by the arms. a guttural cry of anguish tore through your teeth as you were dragged blind through the street.

“target acquired!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

you blinked as hard as you could to clear your eyes. you struggled as hard as you could. you thrashed— but you only hurt yourself more. you forced your eyes open and all you saw was red.

and then nothing at all.

— ☆ —

death was a warm, welcoming hug.

but all you knew was the cold, cruel kiss of life.

white.

you could’ve been dead. all around you was white. white lights. white walls. white sheets. a white ceiling and a white floor. you cringed at all the light— at all the white. you squeezed your eyes closed.

a soft grunt escaped you as you breathed too deep. you could feel the tender, angry wound wrapped under layers and layers of bandages.

“winter,” you murmured through chapped lips and a dry mouth. you turned your head towards his rickety old chair. “winter, i’m thirsty…”

“i don’t speak russian, i’m afraid.”

your head snapped up and your eyes shot open. you bared your teeth at the agent who stood at the end of your bed.

“easy now,” said nicholas fury. he raised his hands and spared you a sympathetic smile. “you don’t want to tear a stitch.”

you grimaced at the reminder of the pain— at the way english sounded. it was a mess of words you had a hard time putting together. it was slow coming.

“you should learn.” you muttered as you glanced around the room. the scowl on your face must’ve amused him because he laughed. unless he found what you said funny.

the plain, empty room was as much as cell as any other. you were in handcuffs, your hands tied to the bed. you were prisoner. cared for, sure, but still a prisoner.

“where am i?” you asked softly.

“you know where you are.” nick said.

you grimaced. although you weren’t fond of his answer, he was right. it didn’t matter where you were exactly because you were in shield’s custody.

“do you remember what happened?” nick asked.

you nodded once but said nothing.

“your wound will heal if you let it.” he flicked his head towards your stomach. “i’m a good shot. i made sure not to paralyze you.”

“i won’t thank you.” you muttered.

“no, i figured you wouldn’t.” he chuckled.

you did not laugh. you did not bother to look at him.

only one thing mattered to you now.

“where…” you stopped yourself.

you had to maintain the secret.

“where is your friend?” nick asked for you. he walked over to the white metal chair beside your bed and turned it around, sitting backwards on it. “we don’t know where your friend with the metal arm is. he fled the scene.”

your brows pinched together and your chest caved.

relief or pain, you did not know.

“he…he’s not here?” you asked in a voice far too soft. you looked at the agent sitting beside you, searching for any hint of a lie.

“no,” nick said with a shake of his head. “sergeant james buchanan barnes is not here.”

your face paled. “how do you…” you almost didn’t have the words. your mind went numb you weren’t sure if you could’ve spoken russian if you tried. “that name…how…”

“shield knows more about you two than you could imagine, miss constantinescu, and we’ve been searching hard to find you both since we got wind of your…creation.” nick said lightly.

you squeezed your eyes shut. “don’t call me that.”

“that’s your name isn’t it?” nick asked.

“i don’t have a name.” you whispered through your teeth.

“now that just ain’t true.” nick sighed as he got up. he walked behind you somewhere and you tried to turn your head and see him. “you have many names.”

it was hard to focus your eyes as he held the folder in front of your face. the brown folder had your name across it in bold red letters.

ISLA E. CONSTANTINESCU

“THE VAMPIRE”

“WEAPON-V”

“shall i open it?” nick asked.

you said nothing.

you couldn’t find your voice.

you didn’t exist.

before hydra, you hadn’t existed. that woman did not exist. isla constantinescu was story. a dream. that person was not real.

you were real. a weapon. a machine. a monster. a pet.

that girl did not exist.

that girl was not you.

but if she had not been real then how was he holding a folder full of her?

a folder full of you.

nick placed the brown folder into your hands and stepped away. you looked over at him with tears brimming on your lashes. this was poison. it burned your hands to hold and yet you clutched it between your palms tighter and tighter.

“if i’m going to talk to you,” nick said with a small tip of his head, “then it looks like you are going to have to meet yourself, miss constantinescu.”

hope you enjoyed this installment of headlock. action scenes are always hard to write and i hope i did alright at keeping the intensity of the moment rampant. part five coming soon. as always, let me know if you want to join the taglist.

tags: @homiesexual-or-homosexual @carbonnite-copy @aegonshusband

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Toji with a ftm reader NSFW head-cannons~! ૮ ˶ᵔ ˕ ᵔ˶ ྀིა

Taglist: @kimisbunny @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @asher-is-hotxp

A/N I’ve normally don’t do Afab works but I’ve noticed some of my followers are under the trans spectrum and I thought I’d try writing this with my one of my fav dilf!

Tags: p N’ v sex, face riding, cervix play, edging, cunilingus, squirting, mentions of breeding, fingering <33

Toji is the kinda man that would be confused at first when he sees your cunt, he wouldn’t understand until you explain you were trans and then he’d go back to not giving a damn, because at heart this man is a man-whore without a care in the world of what your genitals are. During your first time with him he would have you on top at first, watching you gripping his shoulders and have you moving up and down on his cock with his pelvic bone smushing your clit while he talks you through it. He’d start murmuring things like “didn’t know how good you were pretty boy, did you ride all your exes like a slut too?”

Toji has a knack for degrading you while he fucks you, depending on how he’s fucking uou he might praise you, his favorite position is missionary despite how basic it it he likes having your legs up on his hips while he presses himself as deep as his cock can go making you squirm when he places one hand down on your lower stomach while his tip pushes your cervix making them all sensitive while he coats your insides in a thin coat of pre- come while promising to knock you up. “You wanna be a daddy? hm? Tell me now and I’ll have you knocked up by mornin’ doll”

Toji is a total feen for you, he will never admit it but he has an oral fixation and loves eating you out, but Toji is still a lazy man at heart and would rather you blow him any day of the week but even when it comes to oral he’ll have you doing all the work while whining and pouting bucking your hips on his face making your clit press against his lips, practically begging him to suck at it harder. “Ain’t you just a fuckin greedy boy, you’ll take what I give ya, brat” he’d huff and press sloppy half assed kisses against your slit making your petals all puffy and sensitive from the touch. Toji will grip your thighs and move his hand up to your cheeks giving them a harsh pinch and spank combo while he eats you out like a starved man.

When Toji starts prepping you if he even does it always leads to edging you for a while, his fingers scissoring your inner walls and opening them up while his thumb presses and holds your clit down with slow rubs making you try to close your thighs but he just uses his other hand and holds your thighs open before pulling his hand away from you when he feels your cunt clamp up around his fingers making him lick over his scar and pull his fingers back making you a whining mess. “You aren’t coming that soon pretty boy so don’t bother poutin and puffin those little cheeks”

Toji will have mornings when he wakes up all hard and needy just rolling on his side and rubbing his bulge between your thighs, he’d slip his sweatpants down and pull your shorts to the side just fucking your pretty cunt while you sleep, his cock just abusing your womb over and over never pulling out even when he orgasm he always makes sure to finish inside you. His hand reaches forwards and gropes your tits through your shirt while rolling his hips and kissing at your shoulder making you reach your peak, all of the stimulating having you moaning and squirting on yourself with your eyes fluttering open and closed making Toji whisper in your ear “jus go back to sleep baby boy”

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✷ Punisher series review

Honestly I forgot the first season a little, it's been a while since I started the series, don't blame me. From what I remember, I think it was good, not incredible but good enough to be entertained. I remember really liking the Frank/Karen dynamic.

On the other hand, the 2nd season is... chaotic. From memory the first episodes are terrible, and I weigh my words. The storyline is basic, that's not the problem but rather the way it's done. They wanted to create an ironic atmosphere but it completely failed. Frank borders on the old perverted aggressor, he is made even more violent than usual and gives off something unhealthy that I don't like at all. Whereas what in my opinion makes his character interesting is this fine barrier which means that he remains, in my eyes, someone reassuring. There they did anything, and then even in terms of image seriously it didn't make any sense. On top of that Billy's introduction is so cliché. The handsome guy with a few scars is ridiculous. We must stop minimizing the injuries they suffer. I wanted to see a horrifying face, not a barely scratched guy.

From episode 5 things get a little better, even if the relationship with the psychologist is awkward. It feels like a book for teenagers, even though they could have made their story a little more mature.

Then radical change and miracle the last episodes are really good. They reminded me of the cinematic feel of Daredevil. The images are much more beautiful, the sequences slower and pleasant to watch, and the story even improves a little! No really the directors woke up for the end.

I really like that they made it visual that Frank is mostly surrounded by women. The only people important to him are strong and courageous people, represented by women so I appreciate that. Especially since for once, they didn't need to create a radical romantic situation. Take note Marvel, women can be interesting without falling in love.

The character of John Pilgrim captivated me from the start. I saw his little Catholic cross and first degree I said out loud: “ah a religious person? I might like him”. Spoiler alert it didn't fail, I really like it. My theory that adding a religious dynamic or a form of faith in the development of a character gives it a hypnotizing depth, it is confirmed day by day.

+ I discovered that I had a weakness for very marked faces (dark circles, hollows, spots, shadows, etc.)

//- pardon my english, it's not my first language

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Some part of me feels really embarrassed to share this WIP bc I have an almost overwhelming sense of shame about everything I do for some odd reason but at the same time I’ve been drawing a lot more lately and I think this is really cute, and I’m pleased with it, and I don’t know where else to put it lol

So uhh yeah Bucky Barnes x my OC Debbie doing an awkward Sears photoshoot pose, if no one roasts me for this I might post the final idk we shall see

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your honor, they're innocent. they're just two divas having a diva-off

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Don’t Let Them See You Cry by @daisyapples 🦋

Finished working on this fun birthday present for @speaching and I’m obsessed with how it turned out! Bookbinding is such a fun hobby, I really can’t explain how satisfying it is to create an idea and then get to have your favorite stories in your hands with your own work and love put into it. 10/10 hobby, would recommend! The art on the dust jacket is by @ mohishko on Instagram! They were very kind to let me use it for this project and I feel like it ties the whole thing together 😌

Please do not buy or sell fanfiction! This was all made entirely by hand for the purpose of gifting to a friend, it is illegal to buy or sell fanfiction 🖤

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more funny Bucky faces.

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ouh ouh ouh!!! my love for jean is coming back full force.... maybee jean with virgin!ftm reader... corrupting reader with maybe some size kink n breeding.... n whatever else you wanna add!!! (>^ω^<)

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 ♡

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 jean’s pervy behavior has always gone unchecked by your denial of his painfully obvious crush on you, so what happens when the both of you are finally alone?

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JEAN KIRCHSTEIN X MALE!READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader , dubcon , loss of virginity , corruption , size kink , breeding , faux sympathy , dumbification , ooc jean , hella self indulgent , reader is dumb as rocks

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ ] after suffering from post-japan jetlag and insomnia, i’m happy to be writing again! especially for my hubby wubby jean :3 requests may be slow to pump out so please be patient with meee! tysm nonie for requesting this, i got sooo into it <33

naivety, your greatest flaw yet the very object of affection from most of your male peers.

even your best friend, jean, who’s brain practically rots away at the thought of being the one to pop your cherry. steal your virginity and maybe your heart while he’s at it, he’s want to claim you as his own couldn’t have been more obvious to those outside sneaking peeks.

the way he practically eye-fucks you, to his possessiveness towards you, hell, the way he shows physical affection is enough to have everyone mistaking the both of you as a couple. you really thought a gentle squeeze of your hips or his whole arm wrapped around your waist was platonic. no way, he couldn’t have a real crush on you. he already has a line of girls ready to throw themselves onto him at the drop of a hat. he gets so much attention that you’re practically washed out of the conversation every single time.

yet the remarks about your body kept coming, one more explicit than the last. jean wouldn’t shut up even if you asked him to, if anything, he’d amp it up out of pure spite. he adored seeing you squirm next to him as he “jokingly” remarked about how soft your thighs were, how fuckable you looked in the miniskirts you adorned, how any guy would be lucky to fuck you.

again, you’d brush it all off. excuses would flood your head, trying to rationalize his behavior to shove under the label of being “platonic”. he’s just vulgar! he hasn’t had sex in a while! it’s only his humor!

justifications that’d grow weaker, fully shattering the moment the two of you were alone in your bedroom. it was supposed to be another chill night, a movie on the television screen in comfortable silence. it was, until you found your bestie’s hand resting on your thigh, squeezing the soft skin as his fingers ran dangerously close to the crotch area of your shorts.

“j-jean..?” you stuttered, unable to even look at him. you only got a chuckle in response.

“what? gettin’ all shy with me now?”

he leans closer to your ear, hell, his whole body was next to you. a tinge of fear mixed in with your confusion had you looking up at your friend, a face you only see him with when he stares at his next hookup. he isn’t going to . . .

“y’know, i really wasn’t joking when i said any guy would be lucky to fuck you. ♡”

you felt something creep down your underwear, he was dead serious.

“jean, wait—“

“shh, lemme just..” he cut himself off to plant his mouth onto the side of your neck, right in the space underneath your jawline. chills shot down your spin from the foreign feeling, you could barley think before you felt yourself practically yanked down against the sheets.

“oh, shit. you’re fuckin’ tiny babe, i might tear ya apart tonight..”

he wasn’t wrong in the slightest, compared to you, jean was huge. his arms caged your body and his legs pinned yours, it didn’t help that the guy had ridiculous strength, you were helpless under his grip.

“please..be gentle!” your voice quivered, how could you underestimate jean in bed? you knew him, watched girls practically stumble downstairs after a good hour with him.

in response, jean snapped his fingers in front of your face to grab your attention only to squeeze your cheeks together until your lips puckered. “oh i’ll be gentle for you, don’t you worry..” his tone was mean, enough to bring tears to your eyes. you could feel this man’s bulge growing bigger in his pants, begging to be stuffed in you. fuck, could you even take him?

the answer didn’t take long for it to show itself, or rather, stuff itself into your finger fucked cunt. the act itself already driving you mad as you dirted the sheets with your own slick and drops of lube jean quickly spread all over your quivering pussy. clothes have been long discarded, some even ripped off your body by him as he grew impatient.

you watched as jean nudged his leaking tip into you, a delicious yet painful burn made you grip the sheets until your knuckles turned white. “oh, fuck—fuck.” he swore underneath his breath as his girth practically stretched you out, inch by inch, sinking deeper and deeper until he finally bottomed out. you watched jean’s chest rise and fall from how heavily he was breathing, as if to comprehend the position he’s in right now.

all those remarks paid off, a realization that painted a smirk on the brunette’s face. even more so once he took a good look at you. shock would be an understatement to describe what you were feeling besides his dick twitching in your cunt. both hands covering your mouth, face flushed and hot beyond what you’d normally expect with your eyes glued to the sight of jean’s naked body pressed up against yours. it’s something you could only imagine in a porno you’d get off with your pillow, a reality that your so called “friend” thrusted into your bedroom without warning.

you were so lost in your own thoughts that a harsh snap of his hips tore you out of your trance, a sharp pleasure made you jolt upwards. “ah?!—jean?!”

“feelin’ it too huh..?” he groans, not stopping his movement even as you squirmed uncontrollably underneath him. it was all too much, yet too good to stop now. the pain faded, leaving nothing but bolts of pleasure running through your body until the quite moans rose to full on mewls.

“o-oh shit! shit! w-wait, jean i!—“

“d’wa—i know baby, i know.” jean leaned down, whispering false reassurance against your swollen lips. “you’re gonna cum right? cum all over my fuckin’ dick?”

shit. you truly didn’t know nor could ever know how capable he was at this, simple words enough to make your weeping cunt twitch.

“i-i think so..” you trailed off, the feeling of an orgasm growing closer blanked out your mind. the man you once called your best friend crossed the line of no return, one where he has utterly broken you. fucked every drop of innocence and naivity that once drew him to you, only another cock hungry whore for him to fuck ‘n drop.

only difference is that there is no dropping you anytime soon or ever. no no, you were his friend, hell, best friend for as long as he can remember. no way he hit the jackpot only to leave you, it’d be a decision he’d refuse to make unlike with his other hookups. you were too precious, too good, too perfect. mewling about how close you were to cumming only made jean’s dick even harder.

“keep makin’ those pretty noises f’me ♡, maybe i’ll fill this pretty cunt..shit!”

his breathing grew shakey as you felt spurts of his hot seed shoot right into your womb, a feeling you couldn’t have imagined even in those perverse fantasies, suddenly coming true before you could comprehend it in that fucked out brain. “jeannn!” you whined, before your body twitched and a gush of white hot pleasure jolted you out of whatever daze you were in. you couldn’t see your cunt creaming around your friend’s girth, leaving a white ring right at the base and his dick wetter than the sea.

“look at you, all cute and ruined..all for me.”

jean mumbled through wispy rasps and moans, not stopping his hip movements much to your very confusion. “j-jean..?” you asked through fumbled words entangled with sighs of pleasure.

“aw baby, ‘thought we were done? i’ve yet to cum inside you. ♡”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[urween]

Under The Influence

Tony Stark x Male Reader

Summary: Tony sends you a drunken text, asking you to pick him up from one of the high end bars.

A/N: Kind of surprised I haven't done anything with Tony among others yet. Requests open.

The fluorescent lights hum above you, a relentless buzz that mirrors the frantic rhythm in your temples. You're hunched over Tony's paperwork, a mountain of neglected forms and reports that seem to multiply with every passing minute. It's late, far too late for a workday, but here you are, shouldering the burden of his procrastination, again. Your eyes strain, the words blurring, when your phone vibrates against the polished surface of the desk.

It's a text from Tony. A single, curt message: "Pick me up. The usual." You recognize the name of the bar instantly, one of those high-end establishments where the drinks are as extravagant as the clientele, and Tony's presence is a regular fixture. A wave of frustration washes over you, a familiar tide of resentment mixed with a weary acceptance. You know what this means. You know the drill.

You fish for a set of keys, the weight of them heavy in your hand. It's one of Tony's cars, a sleek, expensive machine that feels out of place in your grasp. The drive to the bar is a blur, a series of streetlights and passing cars that barely register in your consciousness. Your mind is already occupied with the task ahead, the inevitable cleanup that awaits.

The bar is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of expensive liquor and perfume. You spot Tony immediately, slumped at the bar, his speech slurred and his eyes glazed. The bartender, a woman with tired eyes and a practiced smile, seems genuinely relieved to see you. She nods, a silent acknowledgment of the routine, as you approach Tony.

"Tony," you say, your voice firm but low. He barely registers your presence, muttering incoherently. You wrap an arm around him, supporting his weight as you guide him out of the bar, his protests a muffled whine against your ear. He's plastered, completely and utterly gone. You manage to steer him into the car, his limbs heavy and uncooperative.

The drive back to his apartment is silent, save for Tony's occasional drunken ramblings. You park the car, help him out, and guide him to his room. The familiar ritual begins. You help him shed his expensive clothes, the stench of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. It's a routine you've become intimately acquainted with since becoming his assistant. Each time, a new layer of frustration builds, a silent scream trapped within you.

You usher him into the shower, the warm water a temporary reprieve from the haze of intoxication. He protests, his voice a low grumble, but you persist. You wash his hair, his skin, the alcohol-soaked grime of the night. You dress him in clean pajamas, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the disheveled state he was in moments before.

Finally, you guide him to his bed, tucking him in like a child. Just as you turn to leave, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength. He pulls you down, onto the edge of the bed, his grip tightening.

"You," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and alcohol. "You're… good." He starts rambling, a disjointed monologue filled with half-formed thoughts and slurred words. He refers to you as "his assistant," the title a constant reminder of the professional boundary that separates you.

He confesses, in his drunken state, how he feels about you. He speaks of your patience, your efficiency, your unwavering support. He acknowledges your frustration, the silent sighs and exasperated glances you try so hard to conceal. He talks about his drinking, the self-destructive spiral he can't seem to escape. He apologizes, his voice laced with a genuine remorse that catches you off guard. He says he needs you, just to be near him, in any capacity.

You sit there, listening, your heart pounding in your chest. The words are a jumbled mess, but the sentiment is clear. You reach out, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, gently pushing his hair back from his forehead. You play with his hair, the soft strands sliding through your fingers. You sigh, a mixture of relief and trepidation. "Tony," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I feel the same way."

[urween]

Oh and i'm currently writing a short story about an after.civil.war!Bucky x ex.avengers!ftm!reader

They have a great relationship, kinda friend with beneficies but without the sexual part from now. And Bucky want to have more but he's afraid of doing things bad. He doesn't want reader to end up disphoric ;)

I hope i would have the motivation to finish it. I had a hard time writing smut, not because I'm uncomfortable but i just struggle to write smut.

[urween]

BODYGUARD choso x ftm reader

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! A/N As A Trans Man I Know There Is A Significant Lack Of Trans Fanfiction. So I'm Gonna Try My Best To Post Either Strictly Trans Specific Or Trans Friendly Stuff.

tags/cw: bodyguard trope, non-con, voyeurism, blowjob, cunnilingus, fingering, switch choso, switch reader word count: 8.1k

“Choso Kamo is his name. He’s a pretty tall guy – about six foot five. He’ll have long black hair that’s tied in a bun, and he’ll probably have a long scar going across his nose.”

“Probably, what’s that mean?”

You don’t get a response. The line is silent. “You haven’t met him yet, have you?” You ask.

Your assistant sighs before finally speaking up. “No, I have not.”

“Jesus fuck. Again?”

His official title was your assistant, but he never acted like it. He was more of your clan’s servant, chauffeur, and snake all in one. Most times he was trusted as a sort of bodyguard as well. But in some cases, where tensions were high in the underworld of Japan, your clan would appoint a professional, specially trained gun to monitor and protect you at all times. You were their special weapon, their most powerful secret. But you were untrained, and they barely put enough faith in you to take care of yourself. They don’t even have enough faith for you to attend business deals with other partnered clans, for reasons unspecified. Though, you assume it’s because of your burning hatred of greed and all things capitalistic. Either that or because you couldn’t be trusted to get out of bed on time.

“I’m so sick of being paired with the same boring, useless fucks.” You declare, closing your eyes and bringing a hand up to your face, rubbing your forehead in frustration. “They’re either that or transphobes.”

Because of the fact that you’re one of the most feared clan of Japan’s biggest secret, not many people outside the organization are even aware of your existence. If they are, they’re classified as ‘partnered’ entities. Still, even then, the specifics of your identity are incredibly guarded pieces of information. As a result, the few bodyguards you have had in the past never had any idea what they were getting into. And, unfortunately sometimes, their professionalism would become lackluster after they’d find out.

“I apologize, sir. But I have no control over these things.” Your assistant replies, sounding like a broken record. This wasn’t the first time you heard those words, and you were sure that this wouldn’t be the last.

“Fuck’s sakes. You have a say though, don’t you? I know you do, mister Sato.” You speak angrily, but the exhaustion in your voice gives away your pleading. You’re sure that at this point, you sound like a broken record too. “Can’t you tell them how miserable I am? They don’t give a shit if I say it, but they might if it’s you.”

It’s silent for a while before you hear Sato sigh, you can’t tell if he’s sympathetic or annoyed. “I will be delivering mister Kamo to you shortly, after I pick him up from the station, please stay put in your suite until then.” He states, hanging up the phone soon after.

You feel like screaming and breaking something at the same exact time, but instead you settle for throwing your phone onto the chair right next to the sofa you’re on. It was bad enough that all of this was so last minute, but now it felt like a spit and a slap in the face from your higher-ups. You urged them to be more considerate with their decisions, you begged them to keep your sanity in mind when making choices like this for you, but they didn’t care. They never did.

Now you’re stuck with another random asshole to ‘protect’ you for the next three months. Three months. Around ninety-two days of awkwardness, discomfort, and a small looming sense of danger from the person who gets paid money to make you feel safe. How wonderful. Right when you were thinking about asking that new clan member to go on a walk through the garden at an ungodly hour of the night. The only kind of date you could realistically have. One where you get to dress up all nice just to go out into the yard and sneak around like a burglar with some pretty man on your arm. You knew it wouldn’t be all that fun, and that you probably wouldn’t even have a shot with that new guy. But man, were you a sucker for pathetic looking men and an excuse to get away from the guards.

Bzzzz!

Someone’s at the door. You hadn’t realized it while you were lost in thought, but it’d been about half an hour since the phone call with your assistant, making it almost eleven in the morning now.

Bzzzz!

That most likely was mister Sato and mister Kamo, but just to be safe, you grab a pistol attached under the coffee table and saunter over to the door.

Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

Looking through the peephole, you keep your gun pointed to the floor. After seeing the disheveled appearance of mister Sato in his iconic suit, and a tall handsome figure behind him almost fitting the exact description of your bodyguard, you make no move to unlock the door and decide to let them open it up for themselves. “You have a key.” You shout out to mister Sato before walking over to the couch and plopping back down into the seat you were in before.

Soon after, you hear a locking mechanism come undone and a door open. Mister Sato walks in with the other man following suit. “I wanted to show mister Kamo that he’d be working for a polite, well-mannered young man, sir. Thank you for proving me wrong right in front of him.” Your assistant sarcastically responds as he closes the door.

“Yeah, yeah.” You dismiss his attitude, picking up the TV remote and going onto a random cartoon channel.

You hear one of the men clear their throat, assuming it’s Sato you ignore it.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Your head shoots towards the talking figure and you freeze. His voice.

You’ve met a lot of good looking people, in and out of the clan, but they were all lacking something in their charm when it came to winning you over. You always believed that something was just impossible to identify, until you heard the mellifluous voice of the emo looking bodyguard hand-delivered to your front door.

He wasn’t dressed in anything special. Just a black hoodie under a slightly darker black suit. Though, you had to admit, you’d never seen someone pull off business casual with slightly baggy clothing quite like this man did. Maybe it’s just because he looks bisexual, you think. His shiny silver chain doesn’t help, it’s one of the first things you notice.

One of the first things Choso notices is your scent.

"Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too.” You smile at him politely, and he smiles back. You think you might do anything to see him do it again.

“Mister Kamo, let me show you to your room.” You watch mister Sato extend his arm out to the hallway behind you all before he turns around, mister Kamo doing the same.

It was a huge layout for a hotel suite, but it was common for the clan to get you a room on whichever floor had the least amount of potential neighbors. That meant that you were usually put in dramatically big living quarters which took up the space of two or three regular hotel rooms, because whatever floor you'd stay on always had the space to spare. This hotel dedicated half of its top floor to this suite.

“Uh, no. I’ve got it.” You stand up, mister Sato turns back to raise an eyebrow at you. Choso Kamo turns around and you feel yourself become sure of your statement.

“I can show him around, I’ve got it.” You repeat, your expression has quickly gone from annoyed to curious and eager.

Mister Sato smiles slightly at your words, but ultimately shakes his head and rejects your offer. “That’s kind of you, sir. But on behalf of the organization, I must have a word with him in private.” You frown at the answer, almost pouting with your pissed off expression.

Choso eyes you with a bit more interest.

“Mister Kamo, this way?” Sato guides him into the hallway before turning around and subtly scolding you behind mister Kamo’s back. “Bodyguard, not friend.” He mouths, quickly and sternly.

It may be hard to tell if he’s serious or just teasing. Regardless of what he says, his eyes show a hint of something else. After fifteen minutes go by, mister Sato comes out by himself from the hallway and clears his throat to get your attention. He reminds you of the rules and guidelines the clan has provided for you to follow. You roll your eyes and mindlessly hum a response to each of them.

Mister Sato smiles. A single, breathy laugh escapes him before he sighs. You hear his footsteps get closer to the lounge area from where he was standing outside the hallway. Then you feel his hands slap themselves against your shoulders. “He seems like a good man just trying to do his job, sir. You’ll be good for him as well, yes?”

You do hope so.

“Of course I will,” You answer, feigning an offended expression paired with a similar tone of voice. A disapproving shake of your head makes him roll his eyes at your antics, “I can be nice mister Sato.”

He scoffs at you. “Of course you can.” Patting your shoulders once more before saying his goodbyes, mister Sato leaves and you suddenly feel the air get thick. There’s tension for you already, and mister Kamo hasn’t even stepped back into the room yet. You wonder what he could be doing at this moment. Unpacking, finishing up paperwork, scrolling through his phone? Did he have a phone? You don’t recall seeing one.

When you think of the lack of a phone on him, you remember your own and decide to look him up in your clan’s database. Neither that site or information is officially allowed to be seen by your eyes, but one time mister Sato didn’t hide his screen from you when he typed his password in, so if anything it’s actually more of his fault than your own.

“Mister Kamo.. Kamo, Choso Kamo.” You mutter, looking for any files under his name. You go through every folder you can, every possible location. You look under allies, ‘partnered’ entities, contractors, outside hires, and finally general employment. The only things you can find are identifiable pictures of him next to boring pieces of information like ‘Name: Choso Kamo’ and ‘Status: Active’.

“Damn, Kamo. What the hell.” You curse under your breath.

“Just Choso is fine.”

You're startled as you whip your head around to the deep voice standing by the kitchen.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, I didn’t know you were right there.” You let out a breathy, awkward laugh.

“If you have any questions about me, you can just ask, sir.”

The sound of him addressing you with authority sends a dopamine spike through your brain, and leaves a good feeling in your stomach.

“I just, uhm.. no. I don’t have questions. I was just curious.” You explain, turning your phone off and putting it in your hoodie pocket as you get up. “I apologize if I was intruding, mister Kamo.”

He shakes his head, “No, it’s fine. And again, it’s just Choso. I tried to tell mister Sato that but.. he insisted.”

You respond with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of your head, happy at his decision to have you call him by his name more casually. You maneuver around the sofa and walk over towards him.

“Yeah, he’s kinda strict. Always been like that.” Sitting on the barstool beside him, you sigh. “Oh, he wasn’t being too much though, right?”

“No, he was fine.”

It’s silent after his response, you think about whether or not he's the type of guy to enjoy this silence. Your arms lean against the counter.

“Do you have any questions for me? I don’t mind answering some.” You tell him, seeing a bird fly past the window. It steals your attention while you wait for a response.

You hear him clear his throat. “I know enough, sir. But thank you.”

You turn your head, slightly tilting it with an eyebrow raised. Confusion written all over your expression, your eyes squint slightly at him. “What does that mean?”

His eyes widen slightly as he shakes his head. “I meant no offense.” He raises his hand in a gesture to pause the moment.

“I just meant that I’m your employee. You’re my employer. I don’t need to know any real personal things about you.” He explains.

Your eyebrows raise with a look of concern on your face. Your mouth is slightly agape at his words as you let out a sigh, mixed with a groan. “You’re that type.”

He slightly frowns at that, an eyebrow raising on his face as well. “What do you mean?”

You tilt your head and sigh, looking down at the counter. “Nah, nothing. Just uh, make yourself at home. Imma go take a shower.”

His eyebrows furrow at that as he watches you get up and walk away. He wonders to himself if he was offensive in any way, if he was snappy, if he had attitude, before realizing what the problem was. You must’ve wanted small talk, you might’ve wanted bonding, maybe even a friendship. It was something that he didn’t welcome in his line of work, and something he never thought he’d even consider. But he also didn’t think he’d ever be living with a client for three whole months. The most he’d ever done was late night check-ins for a month-long job. He started to think that maybe he should go about this assignment in a different way.

He moves to stand by the hallway entrance, his arms crossed and his still face looking like he could use a good nap.

"What– what are you doing?” You ask, coming out of your bedroom in a towel that barely fits you and a basket of products in your hand.

“Oh, uh.. I just..” When he sees you in a towel, his eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. He looks away before looking back, feeling his cheeks heat up. He’s unable to say anything, too surprised to speak. He thinks to himself that there has to be bigger towels than that somewhere in this suite.

You notice the dart of his eyes in any direction but yours. Fireworks set off in the back of your mind as you hold back a smile effortlessly, but you almost want to laugh at him too. That probably was the most pathetic attempt at hiding one’s flusteredness you’ve ever seen. You clear your throat to calm your nerves, because although it’s not visible, you can feel the joy of being attractive to this man inflating your ego to an impossible measure.

“I said make yourself at home. You don't have to stand outside like a guard dog." You say sternly. You quickly turn your attention back towards the bathroom and make your way to the door, smiling and punching the air as you get inside.

Choso blinks in surprise. It seems he isn’t used to people fighting him off in this particular way. His plan was to catch you coming out of your bedroom and make some small talk, but he’d forgotten you said you were going into the shower. Now, he’s embarrassed himself.

Choso uncrosses his arms and sits on the corner of the couch furthest from the front door. He lets out a sigh before the rush of water pouring down in the shower interrupts his negative thoughts. He can hear the sound of you humming along to your music while the scent of your newly lit candle makes its way to his nostrils as well. Choso’s always had heightened senses, all five. It’s part of what makes him such a good bodyguard. That and the motivation of providing for his family.

He knows he’s good at what he does, and he’s been with a lot of big organizations, but he’s never been so high up on the work ladder like this before. Not like he is now with this specific clan, your specific clan. As you pop into his head again, a stray thought suddenly appears in his mind. The idea of you now, bathing yourself. The idea of you being naked and wet. The idea of your bare body being right in front of him, so close to his. So very close that he can touch it. Taste it and take hold.

His eyes widen slightly in shock at the image as he senses a familiar feeling in his stomach. He shakes his head with vigor, as if to get the picture out of his brain. It was incredibly inappropriate for him to think of you that way. He knows that and knows he should stop, but god was it such a pretty idea.

He thinks to himself that another minute of this will earn him a spot in hell as he spends the next ten minutes indulging.

“Mister Choso!” You shout from the bathroom. He realizes that you’ve kept the door open after he turns to look in that direction. Was that a habit of yours? Was it a mistake, or was it intentional?

What?

Was what intentional? What is he thinking? What intent would there be to leaving the door open? He thinks to himself that there must've been something in the water this morning.

“Choso! Are you there?” You shout again, wondering about his unresponsiveness.

“Uh, yes?!” He quickly gets up from his spot on the sofa and makes his way over to the bathroom. He instinctively motions to twist the knob and, against all odds of him thinking before he acts, swings the door wide open. “Are you alright, sir?”

The sight in front of him puts all fantasies he's ever had to shame, but it's so pathetic how it does. The shape of your body, though blurry and barely visible through the curtain, makes him feel more desperate than all the sinful thoughts he’d been living in for the past dozen minutes.

His eyes widen as he realizes what’s happening. “Oh, shit! Uhm.. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to just uh–”

“It’s fine, I just wanted to know if you liked pizza?” In the moment, tiny laughs come out of your throat through your words. You’re amused at the fumbling, nervous sound of the bodyguard as he apologizes profusely. You mentally high-five yourself at the way your plan played out.

“Uh, yes. Sorry, uhm.” He clears his throat and forces his gaze away, his chest rising high and falling low. Struggling to get his words out, he blinks and swallows a lump in his throat.

“Yeah, pizza's good.” He answers.

You smile and nod, continuing to move your hands over your skin as you rinse yourself off under the showerhead. “Okay, that's all.” He nods and leaves as quickly as he barged in.

“Weirdo.” You mutter, just loud enough for him to hear as he rushes out of the bathroom.

Choso lets out a heavy sigh and lays back on the couch, taking his suit jacket off and setting it down beside him. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s never bombed a job so hard, so quickly. He thinks it’s because he hasn’t slept in a while, but he immediately decides that that can't be it. It was pretty normal for him to lose hours of rest. Especially in this line of work.

He thinks maybe it’s because he’s intimidated by the gravity of who he’s really working for, intimidated by how much they stressed ‘it is absolutely imperative’ that you stay safe. But then he thinks, no. That’s close, but he’s worked for some other important, secretive people before.

He knows he’s intimidated, but he doesn’t know what he’s intimidated by. Whatever it is, he knows he needs to get over it. At this point, it's getting in the way of his work.

His arms cross against his chest as he continues to lay down with his eyes closed. He’s trying to relax just as you asked. Time flies by like this until you’re done with your shower.

With a towel draped around you and a basket of lotion in your hand, you walk out of the bathroom and towards the living room.

Choso opens his eyes once he hears you walk out of the bathroom and gets up from his position on the couch. He looks like a deer caught in headlights as he stares at your barely covered, shiny body.

“I was just going to ask if..” You trail off, catching Choso doing his best not to stare at you with metaphorical drool on his face. You smile slightly at that. “Mister Kamo?”

Choso blinks and forces himself to look only at your face. “No, just.. uh, just Choso.” He tries to focus on your eyes, your hair, your cheeks, and then he gets to your lips. He’s unable to pull his gaze from your lips, staring with desire as he pictures for a split-second what they might feel like. He notices the tiniest smirk on them as well. It puzzles him for a moment. Were you enjoying this?

Your eyebrows furrow at the man as you smile and scoff out a laugh. “Choso.. You’re not checking me out, right?”

He blinks as more red flushes to his cheeks. “No! You just.. uh–”

“Just what?”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but there’s a strange flutter in his stomach that he’s trying to put to rest. “Uhm.. I..” He says, not being able to give a full statement. His focus is pulled away from you in an instant, his eyes dart towards the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

You feel a deep annoyance rise in you as you cross your arms just under your chest.

Bzzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

You eye him for a moment as he eyes the door. A good few seconds pass before you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and turn towards the bedrooms. “Get that, yeah? It’s just a food delivery.”

His eyebrows climb. He’s confused. “A food delivery?”

You don't pause to answer, instead just replying as you walk away. “Yeah, I ordered earlier.” Choso has a hard time finding some stability after that whole ordeal. His thoughts run wild before he finally gets up and tries to shake it off.

“That's why I asked about the pizza!” You clarify, raising your voice from your bedroom.

Choso watches you as you walk away, feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration with himself. He decides to put it on pause before going over to the front door and opening it, finding the hotel worker who received the original delivery from the pizza guy at the lobby. Choso thanks him with a generous tip before shutting the door behind him.

You shut the lights off in your bedroom and leave the nightlight on. You thank mister Sato in your head, knowing he’s the one who brought it and placed it in your room when you arrived. He knows how much you hate ceiling lights in any room you’re in. Your attention doesn’t stay on it for long though, as the disappointment of having Choso’s attention ripped away from you so quickly is still on your mind. It seems to serve as a silent reminder that that man is here on a contract. He looks at you as a simple job, and not a fun one he can hook up with. You sigh as you realize you’re just going to have to settle. Just be friendly, but nothing other than that. No fun, no banter, no bond, no relationship of any sort. Sexual, platonic, or otherwise. Just like usual.

In his mind, he tries to come up with some sort of plan to start over with you. He knows, obviously, he should start out with an apology. Then, of course, an explanation. Unless you didn't care for it, maybe it'd tick you off more than he'd think. He'd only make things worse. But then, how should he go about talking to you? It's not as if he can just pretend like nothing happened. Unless that's what you want?

He's a logical man, at times awkward, but intelligent nonetheless. He'll go crazy trying to figure out why all of this was happening and where to go from here. Christ, you were driving him mad already. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours with you yet, and he's already fucked up more times than he ever has in his entire career. As he ponders to himself over what the issue could possibly be, one nagging idea troubles his mind. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him.

You. You and that smirk. You and those laughs. You and your voice, the way it sounded as if you were toying with a dumb pet. There was a chance you were orchestrating all of this. There was a chance you didn’t even just want small talk, or bonding, or a simple friendship. There was a chance you wanted more from him.

“I hope you’re okay with onions!” You shout, “If not, there's plain cheese in the other box!”

He puts the boxes of pizza on the counter before walking towards the hallway, pretending to look around at the decor before pausing near your bedroom door. He can hear the sound of your humming as he tries to talk himself out of one of the stupidest ideas he's ever had.

You decide to look around your room before getting dressed, this being the first time you’d been inside. You think to yourself that maybe instead of stubbornly staying in the lounge area all morning to show a sign of resistance to a clan that didn’t care, you should’ve checked out what a glorious bed you’d be sleeping on for the next few months. You hate to admit when they do something that brings you joy, but it does happen from time to time.

Just as you lay on it, fully naked and comfortable, a thought crosses your mind. You try to shake it off as a stupid, imaginative idea, but when it continues, you feel a heat between your thighs. Choso was a tall glass of broodiness who seems like he takes his job seriously, but he also looks like the kind of guy who’d get on his knees and bark for some boy pussy.

"Hm." You hum, almost sighing.

As your hand reaches down to your legs, you thank yourself for leaving the light off. It helps the mood, you think.

All while Choso lingers at your door.

“Haah..”

His eyes widen as he hears your voice. He can smell the scent of your freshly cleaned body mixed with the lingering fragrance of your cologne. You must’ve sprayed it on yourself after getting out of the shower, the aroma of it making this all the harder for Choso. His heart races as his stomach twists, he feels his pants get tighter with every second that goes by. The man with his mind on fire contemplates being the pervert you already think he is, though he doesn’t want to admit it.

He doesn’t want to think about how you might look right now, legs spread and a hand in between them. Your fingers might be rubbing against yourself as your hips move up and down to keep at the same rate, your other hand could be playing with your nipple. It could be twisting and toying, massaging and squeezing. All while Choso slowly strokes himself through his pants, just like he is now.

He doesn’t want to think about how he’s gotten himself here, he doesn’t want to think about how he’s widened the gap in your doorway to watch you touch yourself, and he certainly doesn’t want to think about how wrong it is that he’s invading your privacy like this. On the clock, no less.

But fuck, did it feel good. And maybe, there was a chance you knew what was happening. And maybe, he hopes for himself, that it feels good for you too.

So instead, he wills himself into ignorance and lets a river of denial spill into his head. He decidedly has the grand idea to simply not think about it and instead just carry on, because if you didn’t want him to see, why was the door left open?

Your hips follow a consistent rhythm that keeps the pace of your fingers as you fuck yourself on them. Choso tries to follow along as he grips and rubs at the bulge inside his slacks. The sounds you make urge him to speed up, but he denies himself the pleasure in fear of getting semen all over his new pants.

You feel the build up inside of you as your hips and fingers pick up their tempo. Your other hand becomes more rough with your nipple before it switches and continues its toying. Your moans get more desperate and rushed with each passing moment as you imagine the pale guard in multiple different scenarios, with multiple different wardrobe choices. Most of them being a birthday suit, while some of them involve leather. “Aah, ffuuuck.” You groan, your little penis being swollen and sensitive from the relentless stroking and minor edging you keep putting yourself through.

As Choso hears you, the small amount of mental fortitude he has left crumbles before he pulls his dick out from his trousers. He can tell you’re getting closer to coming undone.

You move your hand from your nipple and use it to steal the precum leaking from your hole. Rubbing it on your tiny cock before bringing the messy digit to your lips, you taste it for yourself. The sight of it makes Choso’s premature seed leak from the head of his dick as his breathing gets heavy and ragged. His hand strokes his long veiny shaft, kisses of pubic hair along the beginning of it, with thick white strings of load dripping down from the tip of his head to the floor. He can feel himself get closer and closer as he watches you go on. The sight and the sounds of you like this make his head feel light and his legs feel weak. He watches as you reach your finish.

He thanks whatever god there is for his eyes, until he begins to truly, suddenly appreciate his ears.

“Mm, Choso.. ah! Mmf, fuck.”

The first thing he hoped for, but the last thing he expected, came true. The sound of his name leaving your lips as you orgasm sends him over the edge. His cum shoots and pours out of him as he tries to catch it with his hand. He chokes back a desperate, throaty murmur in an attempt to focus on calming his breathing. His heart races in his chest as he watches you do the same, naked and lying down. You shuffle around in your spot on the bed before dreamily sighing and getting up. Grabbing the remote on your bedside table and turning on the overhead light, you saunter over to your wardrobe to pick out some clothes, but something in the doorway catches your eye as you do.

His eyes widen with a fearful expression. Choso’s shiny chain had caught the light from the ceiling before he could realize and the reflection was acting as a sort of bait, luring your attention towards him. His heart pounds against his chest as a thousand thoughts run through his mind. He debates whether or not he’s really been caught yet, if he has a chance to run. He watches you stare at the gap in the doorway before side shuffling over to the bed, grabbing a blanket and covering your nude body. He realizes at that point that he's been caught red handed, but he doesn’t move. He should have never opened the door to the bedroom, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Choso, is that you?” You ask, a tone of fear and embarrassment overtaking your voice. Surely not, you think. Surely that’s not your big, edgy, attractive bodyguard in your doorway. Surely he didn’t just see you masturbate to the thought of him. But the figure in between the gap says otherwise.

Choso doesn’t respond, he can’t. He instead just quickly disappears into the lounge area, the solution to his problem being to lie on the sofa and pretend to be asleep. As he closes his eyes, he can hear shuffling coming from inside your bedroom, followed by careful footsteps coming towards him.

“Are you..” You pause, looking him up and down before landing at his black bottoms. “asleep..?”

Tilting your head and furrowing your eyebrows at him, you feel your heart beat louder than it already is. You question in your mind how that’s even possible right now. But as your breathing quickens and your adrenaline spikes, you feel a heat gather once more in between your legs. The thought of Choso Kamo watching you touch yourself, and the effect it seems to have had on him, makes you want to shiver.

“Choso..” You take a deep breath and sigh. “I know you’re pretending.”

Choso feels his heartbeat stop in his chest, but he doesn’t crack.

“I can see your.. your uhm..” You lick your lips awkwardly, staring at his pants, almost wanting to laugh at the sight. “Choso, just get up.”

He turns onto his side, facing his back to you. “I’m sorry.” You hear him mutter.

“Did you, uh..” You start, “Did you.. did you see any of that?”

He doesn’t respond, his nerves getting the best of him for a moment as he contemplates what to say to you. Does he make an excuse? Does he lie? Does he fess up? He takes a minute to calm himself down before he finally nods. He realizes that there’s not much he can do anymore. He’s been caught red-handed.

You don’t say anything either, trying to focus your mind on a word. Something, anything to describe how you’re feeling.

The hottest guy you’ve ever met in your life just watched you cum as you moaned out his name, and he’s rock hard on your couch. You’d just seen a cum stain on his pants, and you know with absolute certainty that it wasn’t there before.

Choso finally thinks that he’s found the words to say to you. Not the right ones, since he knows there aren’t any, but he mentally preps himself nonetheless. “If–”

“Choso,” Your voice makes his adrenaline spike. It might be something in your tone. Something in the way you say his name feels different than before. “Turn around.”

He doesn’t at first, knowing in his heart how much he doesn’t want to, but eventually he does. He figures that the very least he could do is just comply with what you say.

When Choso turns around, he expects to find you standing over him with a look of disappointment and anger as you stare right into his eyes right before you put a bullet between them. Instead, he finds you climbing onto his thighs. You don’t meet his gaze at all, no gun in your hand, seemingly no anger inside you. Just a hungry look on your face as you grip and tug at the hem of his pants.

His eyes widen in shock as he shoots up from his position on the sofa, his breathing quickening. He grips onto your wrists before looking up at you with the expression of a lost puppy. “Wh– sir..?”

You interrupt his question when your fingers begin unbuckling his pants belt. He looks down in surprise before feeling you push him right onto his back. He looks up at you with that same expression as you regret not being able to take a photo of the sight before you. His cheeks are a dusty pink. His eyebrows are almost upright curves as his lips look a little like they’re quivering. The shininess of his eyes suggest that he almost cried at the initial confrontation, and you make a mental note to bring a camera next time.

Pulling his hard erection out from his trousers makes him gasp and tremble at the cold feeling of your hand. There's a chilly air in your breath while you blow on the tip. The sound he lets out is low and raw. His hand moves towards your own once more but you shove them away. He whines.

You start by moving your hand slowly, lightly up and down his curved, veiny shaft. “Hah.. sir, stop.. p-please.. what are– what are you doing..” He moans.

You bite your lip as you stare at it. At first, trying to contain your excitement, but then ultimately failing after seeing the desperate look on Choso’s face.

You lick your lips, almost like you’re about to enjoy a meal. As you wrap them around the tip of his penis, he yelps. “Ah-” You watch as his hand reflexively covers his lips. Your tongue slides down onto him while his girth fills your mouth. The noises he makes get louder and higher until he’s practically crying in pleasure. You bring your gaze to his own as you pause, the tip being just shy of a few inches from hitting the back of your throat.

Choso’s resolve crumbles at the scene playing out in front of him. The look in your eyes alone is strong enough to make him fold, let alone the warm, wet feeling of your mouth wrapped around his touch starved cock. He is a man whose nervous system is heightened compared to most people he knows. That means vision, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching. Choso is a very sensitive man when it comes to touch, and you’re about to find that out first hand.

He gets teary-eyed. “Please..” You feel your cunt get even wetter at the sound of his begging before pushing your mouth further down onto him, his head hitting your pharynx.

He moans louder than ever as you start bobbing your head on his dick. You can taste his precum slide down your throat before you eagerly speed up the pace, turning Choso into a whiny, gasping mess.

“Haah, fuck.. oh, my god.” He exhales shakily, trying his absolute hardest to suppress anything else from leaving his throat.

Your stomach twists at his cries as his hand grips onto your hair. You come up for a little bit of air and to let out a small laugh “Fuck, that’s good.” You declare, pumping at his shaft with your hands as you coo at him. “That’s a good boy.”

Another whine escapes him before he even has the chance to speak. He’s embarrassed. You let out a single laugh before sinking your mouth back down onto him, slightly gagging.

“Sir.. wait– ah!” He interrupts himself before trying his hardest to continue, but his desperate pleas for you to ‘slow down’, or ‘give him a second’ go unanswered. He’d caught a glimpse of the look in your eyes not too long ago. He knew he didn’t have a say anymore. “Ughh, fuck..”

He struggles to get his words out as you continue to gag on his length. You move at a constant pace, and with the sensations Choso has racing through his nerves, it doesn’t take long before he’s crying out from a knot in his stomach. “No.. s-stop! Please.. oh, fuck.. Please–” You use one hand to grip onto the rest of his penis that you can’t fit into your mouth, the other takes a turn massaging each of his balls.

“Ah! Fuck- ohh, haah..!”

Stroking and squeezing, you feel a pair of large, calloused hands grab the sides of your face as the desperate man suddenly fucks your face onto him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..” He repeats like a mantra, cracks in his voice as he cries out quickly. Rapid and relentless, you feel the shots of semen pour down into you and your belly as he practically screams your name, cumming into your throat and arching his back.

You can feel your shorts soak at the sound. You keep your eyes shut, thinking to yourself that you should savor this moment, just in case you never get to be this close to having sex with him again because of your clan rules and policies.

The sound of his voice interrupts your thoughts. He tries to ask you the question he’s had on his mind since you first started teasing him, but settles on the fact that you’ve basically already answered. Instead, he makes a statement, accusing you of your cunningness. “You.. fuck, you did this.” You smiled a bit at this as he continued. “You did this on purpose.”

“You got off on watching me, didn’t you?”

His breathing finally begins to slow, but looks as if it’s become deeper. The rise and fall of his chest has become more noticeable. You blink and tilt your head at him, a sudden feeling of unease making itself known in your stomach. The look in his eyes, though they looked pleading and helpless just a second ago, now has a signal of something more sinister.

His veiny, rough hands rub against your thighs before he runs them up and grips at the fabric of your waistband. He keeps eye contact with you as his fingers push and slip into your shorts, a shiver runs down your spine as your heart pounds. He glides his knuckles against your skin as his hands meet where your belly button is. Suddenly, the sound of fabric ripping makes your eyes widen in shock. You look down at your legs in a panic before his hands swiftly move to your hips. He picks you up and flips you onto your back, you gasp. “Choso?!”

He huffs, pulling your shorts off, revealing nothing underneath. “You did this.” He mutters, almost to himself.

"You did this to me."

Your stomach swirls as you feel something akin to an ache between your legs. You did, you did do this. And god, were you so very proud of yourself.

You feel his hands grip just under your knees. You move your legs to spread apart in response, doing so before he could do it for you. His stern and frustrated expression softens as he sees the glistening mess of your cunt. He can feel his cock harden at the sight. “You want this, yeah?” He asks you, his voice just above a whisper. He almost sounds unsure of himself. You find it cute, and nod.

You watch as he takes a deep breath. You wait for him to line himself up with your entrance until you notice his legs. They shift as his hands drop from their grasp and land on the sofa. His elbows keep him up as he stares at your wet folds. Your lips part, almost as if you're about to say something. However, you're interrupted at the feeling of his tongue dragging along some slick leaking from your hole. It takes everything in you not to buck into his face.

You hands find a spot on the backrest to grip onto, the other hand tucking its fingers underneath the cushion you lay on. He groans at the taste of you before sinking himself down further. You let out a moan and he sighs. The sound like music to his reddening ears.

Up and down and up and down, you feel his face press against you as he laps up your juices. His nose is constantly rubbing against your swollen, tiny penis. The sensation drives you crazy as you finally let yourself go and start to grind yourself onto him. “Fuck, fuck.. Oh, fuck.. Haah..” Your shaky breath and vulgar vocabulary brings a proud smile to his face.

He brings his lips up from your hole and places small kisses along your walls. The feeling is loving, but incredibly teasing and frustrating at the same time. Your hand finds its way to his hair as you lightly tug and scratch. “Mm, what?” He laughs. Fucking laughs at you.

You feel annoyance, anger, frustration, indignation. But you realize half of that is because of a feeling of helplessness. An understanding that you’re under him and taking this, and you can fight all you like but he has power over you. He has complete control. He’s strong enough to pick you up and hoist you over his shoulder, while you couldn’t lift him with the help of mister Sato. “Stop teasing.” You demand, it comes out more like a plea, or a whiny request.

You feel his hands grip and rub your thighs. You look at him, finding little to no solace in the way he looks back at you. It’s almost scary, it’s thoroughly intimidating. “Tell me. Tell me you want it.” He breathes out.

You bring your hands to your face and press your palms against your eyes. “Choso..”

“Sir, please.”

You bite your lip and whine. “Fuck..” You were weak, you could feel the neediness inside you grow. At this point, if he doesn’t make you cum, you’ll shove him off and make him watch as you do it yourself.

“I want it, Choso. Really, really bad.” You give in.

In one quick motion, he’s on your dick. His tongue swipes and sucks until all you know is pleasure. You can feel his groans almost in your gut as you praise and beg for him. “Haah.. don’t stop. Fuck, please.. Choso.”

Just as he finds a rhythm to his mouth movements, he moves his hand below his jaw. He brings his middle finger to your slit and starts rubbing. You grip his hair in response and he moans at the feeling. His digit finds its way into your hole and you whimper. He starts pumping and curling one finger in and out of you until there’s a second following the exact same tempo. “Oh, fuck.. Fuck!”

His tongue is still hard at work on your sensitive bundle of nerves as you loudly call out his name, praying that whoever was in the suite over would be conveniently out in the city. “You’re so fucking tight. Want you to cum so bad.” His words are almost unintelligible as he basically speaks into your crotch, but you can understand enough. He can feel you clench around him as your other hand pushes and scratches at the couch.

The feeling brings him close to the edge, but the stimulation of his penis rubbing against the leather couch isn’t enough to do him in yet. “Give it to me, baby. Need your cum.”

You can hear the sound of his lips smack against your wet cunt. He curses as precum leaks out of you. “Fuck.” He finds the strength to stay where he is instead of moving to slurp it all into his mouth, although he struggles. The vibrations of his words help him in his goal as your legs begin to quiver. Your hand in his hair tightens and tugs as you cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please. Oh, my god! Please, Choso!” You stutter and tremble through your words. “I- Fuck, I’m gonna- haah..!”

Your feet instinctively push against his shoulders, but his free hand grips and forces itself on your inner thigh, making sure your legs stay apart. You shake and scream as Choso fucks you through it. He doesn’t stop until your hand in his hair is slapping him in an effort to tell him you’ve had enough. Finally, he moves from your overstimulated dick and goes back to lapping up all the juices that spill out of your hole. You shiver at the feeling.

Eventually, you beckon him up to join you. Eventually, he settles in your arms after about a couple of minutes of him tense in your hold. The same couple minutes you spent giggling and admiring the man next to you. Eventually, you kiss him and he kisses back. It’s sweet and affectionate at first, but after a few more times, it turns into something more steamy. More heated.

Eventually, you realize he’s still hard after all of this. Precum still drips from the tip of his long cock. Your bodyguard has yet to properly feel the inside of some boy pussy, and you're yet to show him how good you are for it.

[urween]

I want to be loved, so bad it actually hurts

Maybe 'cause my ovulation is comming soon too

[urween]

starring: micheal fassbender x ftm!reader

request: Could you do Michael Fassbender x male reader smut?

warnings: smut, cursing, overstimulation

directors note: i know it says male reader but i wanted to spice it up a little more

"ngh fuck micheal" you moaned tugging at his hair more, he was knelled in between your legs eating you out like it was his last meal and damn was he god at it, his tongue working in all sorts of way that had you seeing stars.

"i know baby, you taste so fuckin' good" he had his arms locked around your thighs with your legs over both his shoulders savoring the sweet taste of your pussy that had his mind spiraling but he really couldn't pull away.

your thighs were shuddering at this point but you still kept the wide open for michael to indulge, his tongue working between your sensitive bud and glistening folds while his fingers pumped in and out of you over and over.

you could feel his digits just barely grazing your good spot, which he knew what he was doing, he wanted to inch you closer and closer to your climax but on his own timing "m-michael" you whimper feeling yourself about to cum.

and he knew those whimpers from anywhere, plunging his fingers deeper as your back arched, releasing your fluids all over his mouth that he slurped up with joy which drew even more out of you to the pint your eyes were shooting to the back of your head.

"yeah just like that baby let it all out for me" he cooed running his other hand up and down your torso just up until you finally came down from your high, regaingi some of your mind but still feeling out of this world.

"think you can gimme one more" he looks up at you while laying soft kisses on your sensitive folds and no surprise you nodded your head leading to a whole night of mind shattering orgasms.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[urween]

starring: harry styles x ftm!reader

request: can i request a harry styles x ftm reader. just they are at home together, maybe in the shower starts with reader blowing him

warnings: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, creampie, shower sex

it was a stressful day for harry, he had just gotten off a long flight and all he wanted to do was relax with his love at home, when he got home though he was delighted to see you showering so why not step in and have some fun with you.

"hi baby" harry greeted you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek "i didn't know you'd be home so early" you smile turning around to kiss him "mm well i couldn't wait to see you so it took an earlier flight" he smirked and you could feel something poking at your leg.

"oh now did big fella down their miss me too" you laugh looking down at his obscenely large bulge "very much" harry says "well then let me help you both" you get down on your knees and stroke his dick before giving it a few licks to then sink it down your throat in one go.

harry letting out a breathy chuckle "fuck you still got it huh" harry leans back on the shower wall, looking down as you suck his dick like an expert, your tongue licking at his balls the deeper you went down until it was all in, harry holding your head down for a few second before letting go.

you give him a little smile before going right back to sucking the soul out of this man "fuck keep goin' im gonna cum" he urges but you stop right there "i have a better place for this load" you stand up and rub harrys tip on your already soaking folds.

he's quick to pick you up and press your back against the cold shower wall and slide his cock in with ease, thrusting up into you hitting all the right spots making you a moaning mess, your arms wrapped around harrys neck to hold you up better.

"you fill me up so much harry" you moan feeling your legs getting weaker from the rough thrusts into you, the tip of his cock abusing your gummy walls so much but it felt so good at the same time.

"yeah you just love this dick right, the only dick for you" he asks deeply kissing you to which you nod, he could feel your walls starting to spasm around him before you climaxed all over his dick, it felt so good that he came right with you.

"god your pussy is so fucking good" harry let out a huff as he let you down, pulling you into a kiss just t savor the moment a little more "i love your dick to" you joked.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[urween]

starring: rick grimes x ftm!reader

request: Rick grimes with ftm reader smut?🥺 It’s been a while since they’ve had alone time without the others or being in danger so during a supply run they get it on?

warnings: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, creampie, alcohol, mention of drinking

it had been sometime since you saw rick, from all the constant missions he was on it got stressful but now you guys got to bond over searching around for supplies, checking everything in a gas station for every or really anything until you found a bottle of whiskey in a office drawer.

"rick" you yelled "what, what happend, is it a zombie" he frantically asked till you handed him the bottle, queue him cracking it open and you both getting a little tipsy then you end up on top of his lap with his cock fucking deep in you and you both making out.

"just like that baby, keep bouncing just like that" he groans kissing and nipping at your exposed neck, letting out breathy moans every time he sinks all the way in you, just feeling you tight walls suck him in after so long is enough to make him die on the spot.

your arms wrapped around his neck while you hide your face in his neck, occasionally leaving a hickey or too in the spots you kiss, ricks hips constantly stuttering upwards into because he just cant control having a good pussy like your wrapped around him.

he just wants to turn you over and fuck you till you scream his name load enough for everyone to hear but this sin't really the right place to do that "m'close" he mumbles bringing his rough hands to your hips to bounce you up and down on his dick with more pace.

"fucking fill up my pussy rick please, i wanna have you fill me so bad" you whine in his ear, he felt something primal in himself after you said that, fucking you rougher on his cock until he fucked his load right into you, making sure to push it deep enough so it wont fall out, you guys can use it as lube later.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac