#I just think he’s be super into enthusiastic consent

[daistea]

(Def not King lurkin into your asks)

Saw that you take requests,,, 👀

What's your thoughts on a sexual relationship with Mithrun? I always get a little stumped with those requests, and you're just *chefs kiss* when it comes to your characterization of him

CRIES HELLO THANK U ILY

ummm tw: spoilers maybe? and nsfw

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Pre-Demon

Mithrun is a total slut, sorry.

That's not a bad thing, obviously, it's just what he is. I mean, he doesn't admit or acknowledge it. He has a very difficult time accepting his preferences. He's just a slut in denial.

That's all.

Pre-Ending, Post-Trauma

Mithrun hasn't had a real boner in forty years, sorry.

He has no interest in being intimate with anyone. He's really casual about the subject, though, because the Canaries--- sans Pattadol--- are pretty honest and open with each other. Shameless.

Fleki thinks he needs to get laid, but she doesn't care enough to push the subject.

Mithrun isn't emotionless, though. He's just preoccupied. His sex drive is extremely low at this point. However, he's observant enough about others to notice how you feel.

He'll have sex just for the sake of having it. He's kinda forgotten how it feels. And he still has pleasure receptors and nerves and all that nonsense. He can still physically react. You just have to do some work. He's not going to be super enthusiastic, but still consenting ofc

Mithrun is a total pillow princess at this point.

It's a bit calming, actually. Kind of therapeutic.

He's relatively quiet, but sometimes he can't help but exhale shakily, or groan. His touches are light. He's not very passionate. But sometimes he looks at you with these slightly dark expressions, as if he's considering something more. Something you don't quite understand.

Post-Canon

It starts out slowly. Mithrun doesn't immediately regain a sex drive. It needs cultivating.

The first time is really important. Depending on who you are and what you're like, it could range from soft and explorative, to rough and frantic.

Mithrun is a switch. I see a lot of depictions of him as a bottom, and I see that point of view, I really do. But I genuinely believe he'd work both roles. He would like to be dominant sometimes. Other times, he just wants to sit back and let the new feelings take over.

He likes being called a good boy.

He doesn't really enjoy the fact that he likes being called that. It's demeaning and it kind of makes him a little irritated, but holy crap does it set him on fire. 'Good boy' should only be invoked in the most passionate or rough of moments.

Mithrun can be rough when he feels like it. He can push you against a wall with the intent to make you forget your own name. He can leave bruises with how tightly he digs his fingers in. He bites, as always, but harder.

Speaking of biting, he'll usually bite your shoulder to keep himself from making much noise.

Mithrun wants to consume you entirely. He wants every inch of you. Your focus should be on him and him only. He likes hearing his name from your lips. Over and over. And he will often ask you who you belong to. He sounds calm in those moments, though, level-headed and scratchy as always, but there's a hint of expectance between his words.

He'll say it back, too, but in a very casual way, as if he doesn't quite understand why you want him to say that. Of course he's yours. Does it need to be acknowledged?

He has no shame, either. Anywhere, any time, if he wants it then he'll initiate it. He only pulls you into private alleys or closets because he knows that's what you prefer.

When you take charge, he enjoys that too. He likes looking up at you, taking in the view, letting his hands wander.

Whether he's top or bottom really depends on his mood.

If he's feeling especially jealous or possessive, he leaves a lot of marks.

He likes praise. He doesn't really give it back, though.

He's not very talkative during the deed, but if you talk often he'll just end up clamping a hand over your mouth.

He enjoys wrapping his fingers around your neck. He doesn't really like that in return, though.

No mirror sex.

He really likes oral. He can be a little selfish with it, actually.

Mithrun isn't a sadist LOL but he does like to tie you up sometimes and leave you hanging. It also depends on how you are as a person and what your dynamic is like.

If he's not in a dominant mood, he's a pillow princess again. Those are the days when he's not feeling as much, when he's not as locked in to his desires. Or, when he's just mentally or physically tired.

No matter what mood, he still needs a lot of care and affection. He needs every ounce of your focus.

He doesn't provide much aftercare. You're the one doing that, no matter who topped. But he eventually learns a bit and starts kinda reciprocating out of sheer habit, because he knows it would make you happy.

As I always say, Mithrun stares a lot. His gaze follows you everywhere, and he'll never get tired of the sight of your body.

He sorta passes out afterwards. It's one of the rare times when he doesn't need a sleep spell. He often will just pass out on top of you.

In general, he's a switch and how he acts is highly dependent on his mood for the day. He needs a lot of attention and affection, and likes to mark you up. He lacks shame, he'll initiate it anywhere. He's relatively quiet, but breathy. Sometimes, he touches you like you're porcelain about to crack. Other times, he manhandles you like a rag doll and does whatever he pleases. If you're able to, manhandle him in return, he'll probably get a little pissy with you but it's still funny.

:0 !

★・・・・・・★

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Kirishima gives Todoroki S*x Tips | Todoroki x Reader Fic

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! ���, Shoto Todoroki x Eijiro Kirishima Friendship

Genre: Fluff, Sex, Friendship, NSFW

CW: MDNI!, discussing sex, foreplay, p*rn, hickies

Shoto Todoroki doesn’t really get sex until he gets it.

He loves you and knows you want to do it…so naturally he does research. If there’s one thing Shoto is good at, it’s mastering a subject

When Kirishima loses his virginity, he lets Shoto ask him questions. They sit late into the night at the library, reviewing and analyzing Kirishima’s 30 minutes of action. Shoto takes notes and in that straightforward way of his, asks for Eijro’s opinions on positions, foreplay and hickies.

“Did you perform oral sex on her? Is the female anatomy confusing?” He asks, causing Eijiro to go red in the face. Eijiro nods yes to both. “It took a few minutes, but once I got into it, I figured it out pretty quickly!” He says earnestly. Shoto scribbles down a reminder to Google some detailed diagrams of the female body when he gets home.

 “Foreplay is super important, because girls need to, like, warm up before they’re ready to bone.” Eijiro adds, motioning for Shoto to keep taking notes.

“I didn’t know that.” Shoto blinks, surprised. To be fair, he had never really thought much about sex until you’d brought it up a few months earlier. He knew the rudimentary mechanics from middle school health class, but had never wondered what went into the act beyond the basics of reproduction.

“Shoto. My dude. This is going to be harder than I thought.” Eijiro puts his face in his hands. “How does someone our age have little to no knowledge about sex?”

“I wasn’t interested in it until now.” Shoto says flatly. “But now that Y/N wants to do it, I want to, too.”

Eijiro stares at Shoto thoughtfully through his fingers. “That was a pretty chivalrous response.” He admits, lifting his head from his hands. “You just want to make your girl happy, I can get behind that. But Shoto – if you don’t want to have sex, you don’t have to. Enthusiastic consent is key to solid intimacy.”

“I really want to do this.” Shoto says insistently. “I don’t really understand what all the hype is about, but I want to try it with y/n. I want to feel close to her that way. And maybe once I do it, I’ll understand.”

“Alright, man. Then I’ll help you. Consider me your Sex Expert. Your Sexpert!” Kirishima grins at his witty wordplay.

Shoto looks at him skeptically. “Haven’t you only had sex once, though? How much of an expert can you possibly be?”

Kirishima deflates. “I don’t see anyone else out in the library at 11pm giving you sex advice!”

“True.”

“So let me teach you what I know.” He says sagely. “Just call me your Sex Sensei!”

Shoto snorts out a laugh. “Pass.”

“Fine, be like that. Regardless, you are now my student. I will shepherd you into the next phase of your sex life with chivalry and grace.” Eijiro is really getting into the bit now. One look down at Shoto’s nervous face pulls him back down to Earth. “What’s wrong?”

“This is a lot. What if I’m bad at it? And what if y/n hates it?” Shoto closes his notebook and looks pleadingly at Kirishima with his mismatched eyes. “You’ve got to help me.”

“Calm down, man. It’s really not as big a deal as you think! And I’ve already committed to being your Sex Sensei, so we’re going to see this through together.” He motions for Shoto to open up his notebook again. “Now let’s start with the basics – have you ever watched porn?”

--------------- FIN for now! ------------------------------------------------

I'm working on a longer fic to really dig into this exploration for Shoto! I love the idea of Kirishima being such a bro and trying to help his friends however he can. I also LOVE the idea of Kirishima fucking someone once and believing that makes him the resident expert on sex.

[hereticpriest]

Pyrrhic

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Baron Helmut Zemo x Female Reader

Length: 14k+

Summary: Once, HYDRA sought to create an improved version of the super soldier through breeding the Winter Soldier with another super soldier they made for that express purpose.

Now, fourteen years after escaping HYDRA's clutches, Bucky Barnes comes to you for help with the rise of super soldiers under the title Flagsmashers. Unfortunately, Barnes' feelings drive you closer to Baron Helmut Zemo, and you find yourself hoping for a future for the first time in your life.

Warnings: Unrequited Bucky Barnes/Reader, Bucky Barnes is a bit controlling, Manipulative Helmut Zemo, HYDRA comes with it's own whole bucket of warnings, HYDRA had a secret super soldier breeding program, Reader is a kidnapping victim, Reader is 3/4 Sokovian, P in V sex, oral sex (f receiving), reference to potential purity kink, loss of virginity, reader is touch-adverse, reader is also touch-starved, shower sex, ambiguous ending, consent is discussed multiple times, enthusiastic consent, Helmut Zemo is a consent king. Let me know if I missed something!

“Are you ever going to tell us about this person you’re insisting we need for this mission?” Sam asked as he stepped carefully through the thick brush of the forest around them. Bucky ducked under a large branch, shoulders tense as he practically stalked through the woods. His companions, reluctant as they may be, could tell that he didn’t want to answer the question - he was always evasive, but something about this person was making him especially tense. Sam was just happy that the Baron had kept his mouth shut so far. Considering his royal upbringing, one might think he would struggle on this mostly uphill hike through thick forest and untamed land, however Sam knew he’d been part of an elite Sokovian task force and that he had the strength and stamina to prove it.

“She was called Mat when I knew her, though she hated the title, so I wouldn’t recommend using it. Too fucking young for it anyways.” Bucky spat that last sentence, and Sam raised an eyebrow sceptically, not having the linguistic context to put two and two together. Zemo, however, huffed a breath laced with disdain and curiosity. Bucky shot him a dangerous look over his shoulder, and the Baron raised his hands placatingly, though Sam noticed him roll his eyes the moment Barnes looked away. The tension had been at a record high since Zemo was broken out of the German prison he’d been interred in, and Sam was starting to get sick of playing mediator between them.

“How did you know her?” Sam asked, and James paused mid-step, then turned to his two companions.

“She was held by an offshoot group of HYDRA scientists at a lab in the Czech Republic from the age of eight. They gave her a modified version of the super soldier serum used on the soldiers at the Siberian facility against her will, and they kept her locked in the facility until she escaped when she was eighteen.” Every word was said carefully, and while Sam took that as Bucky struggling to tell the girl’s story, Zemo observed him with open curiosity. He could tell that there was quite a bit that the former Winter Soldier wasn’t telling them.

“Modified how?” He asked, and Barnes scowled, but Sam’s equally curious gaze made him bite his cheek to stop from chewing the Baron out.

“She was… faster than any other super soldier I’ve ever seen. Not as strong physically, but her reaction time is far superior. She heals fast like the rest of us, but they did something to her pain responses. Dulled them, but didn’t remove them completely. She wasn’t as aggressive as the ones in Siberia were. The scientists made some hormonal changes as well.” Bucky shrugged, getting uncomfortable as he mentioned that last part, and Zemo tilted his head, studying his reactions.

“She didn’t want the serum, though? I mean, she was eight when they took her. How old was she when they gave it to her?” Sam asked, and Barnes closed his eyes briefly, his expression pained.

“They gave it to her shortly after she arrived at the facility. Maybe a month. She was just a kid. I could hear her screaming from the other side of the facility. They didn’t put her through the same brainwashing bullshit they did to me, but she wasn’t willing like the other soldiers, so they… they used to beat her until she started to learn to fight back like they wanted. She tried to escape, but they never let her out of the facility.” He replied, “So don’t start up your ‘I need to kill all super soldiers’ bullshit with her, Zemo. She never had a choice.”

The Baron considered his words, pursing his lips for a moment before softening ever so slightly.

“As you say, she was only a child.”

Bucky nodded, then continued his solemn march, cresting the top of the hill and sighing as a dark wood cabin came into view. Smoke trailed from the chimney, and there was a long driveway heading from the cabin to the road they’d abandoned nearly a mile back due to Bucky’s insistence that they approach on foot from the forest lest she know they were coming. An old, beat up pickup truck sat like a rusty silver beacon in the driveway with a large, newer-looking storage box hooked into the bed. There was a storage shed behind the cabin, and an old, large stump that appeared to be used as a woodcutter’s block considering the axe sunk deep into it. The firewood rack was full to the brim against the right wall of the cabin, and a full clothesline hung between the opposite side of the cabin and a sturdy nearby tree.

“You okay, man?” Sam asked, clapping Bucky on the shoulder when the other man didn’t move for over a minute, staring at the cabin trepidatiously. The hundred-and-six year old man was always tense, but his shoulders felt like iron under Sam’s hand.

“She might not be happy to see me.” Barnes admitted, and Sam hummed his acknowledgement, then started trudging down the small slope towards the house. This finally kicked Bucky into movement, and he followed swiftly, pausing only briefly when he spotted your tall frame exiting the shed behind the cabin. There was a Browning Citori against one shoulder, and blood had soaked into the dirty blue plaid shirt you wore. Your knees were muddy from kneeling in the woods. To the far left of the cabin in a clearing past a line of thick trees were two worn stones sticking out of the earth, and you approached calmly, dropping to kneel before them.

“Well, she looks real friendly.” Sam mused, clapping Bucky on the back, “Good luck.”

~

Five hours earlier, you had thumped a deer carcass down on the butcher table in your shed, then hung your trusty shotgun on the rack behind the door where it belonged. It had taken you a long time to perfect field dressing, and even longer to learn to get good at butchering your meat, but you had learned. You had no choice. Society and its shiny grocery stores full of pre-packaged food were far too dangerous for you. HYDRA still had a hold on the world when you first escaped, and there were still monstrous little tentacles everywhere who had escaped the punishment they deserved for what they had done. You knew how to hunt humans, so animals weren’t such a big stretch. Now, after fourteen years, you were an expert at surviving on your own. You went into town once a month at most, on a different day every time to avoid routine, to pick up the essentials you couldn’t scavenge for yourself.

With the deer butchered and packed away in your meat freezer, you made your way towards the two gravestones just out of view of your cabin. With a heavy sigh, you tucked the shotgun under your chin, sitting with it between your knees, and stared at the cold stones. Upon one, Rickard Stroud. On the other, Imogen Whitley.

“Thank you both. Thank you Imogen, for having mercy on a broken creature and freeing me from my shackles. I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you in return. I bet you’re sick of hearing it by now, but I will never forget what you sacrificed for me. Thank you Rickard, for leaving me everything I needed to survive. I wish I could have known you. I hope you wouldn’t be too mad at me for moving into your home, but I promise I’ve tried my best to maintain it with the care you clearly did.”

~

Bucky jerked forwards as he watched you point the shotgun at yourself, panic racing through his veins at the thought of losing you before he’d even gotten you back. Not that he’d ever had you in the first place - you were a name on his reparations list that he needed to cross off. He was responsible for what happened to you, regardless of whether he was in control of himself or not. The entire choice to upend and ruin your life was made because of him. The inability to make amends sparked every selfish fear response in his body.

“Wait-” The Baron’s gloved hand closed around Bucky’s metal bicep, not quite able to pull him back, but enough to pause his forward momentum, “Look closely, James. Her finger is not on the trigger. This is a ritual.”

Sam felt sympathy coil in his gut as he watched the woman kneel in the dirt, the cold metal against her skin as if it gave her peace. He inwardly acknowledged that if anyone might understand a grief ritual of this specific breed, it might be Zemo, though he didn’t want to give the man the credit. Bucky stared down at her, seeming to deflate before their very eyes, though his face showed some measure of relief. He shrugged Zemo’s hand off of his arm, then continued forwards at a slower pace, no longer panicking. Zemo watched for a moment before following them, noting the way the woman’s head tilted ever-so-slightly in their direction before straightening out again.

~

Three approached from the southwest. One stomped through the forest despite the ability to soften his steps, one walked with purpose but made a poor attempt to soften his steps, and the third walked leisurely but with an awareness to his gait. All soldiers of varying service, if you weren’t mistaken. One of them was, unfortunately, familiar.

You let out a long, laboured sigh as you laid your shotgun down in front of you, then pushed yourself up from your knees. The footsteps stopped, and you shed your plaid shirt, leaving yourself in only a black undershirt and your muddy sweatpants. If this was going to be a fight, you’d make sure it was one they regretted. You spun to face the trio with a raised eyebrow, biceps flexing, shoulders rolling as you prepared yourself.

“Soldat. Falcon. Ah, and the Baron as well, how curious. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked, noticing Bucky’s gaze fixed on your shotgun, “Relax, Soldat, I’m far too much of a coward.”

The former Winter Soldier scoffed, taking another step closer to you but freezing when you took a step back, “I’m not going to do anything, doll. I’m not… I’m not him anymore.”

The Falcon put his hand on Barnes’ shoulder as if to hold him back and steady him all in one shot while the former Winter Soldier processed your fear of him, guilt eating away at his guts. The Baron leaned against a tree nearby to observe, just out of the way to avoid getting in the middle of any conflict.

“I know what you are, Barnes. Better than most.” You replied, glancing from him to the Baron and taking the time to stare at him from top to bottom, curious, “You’re working with Zemo. I would assume that meant you were here to kill me, but you would have chosen an easier method, surely. Which means that there’s another super soldier or two running about, and you’ve decided to try and bring me along. Why?”

Bucky squirmed as your intense stare moved from the now slightly flushed Baron back to him, and he clenched his fists a few times to work through the nerves.

“I’ve known where you were for a while. Look, I don’t want to call you… that, so what name are you using these days? Your old name?” You don’t answer him right away, brow arched sceptically as you observe his expression. “You’re long overdue for an apology, and we need someone who can go toe-to-toe with super soldiers.”

You scoffed, turning your back on them.

“I don’t have- I’ve been going by Stroud, after the guy who owned this cabin before I found it. My old name is no one’s business but mine, Barnes. He certainly doesn’t need to know any more about me than he already does. I’d like to be offended that you brought a man to my doorstep who will no doubt want me dead, but I suppose that the greater good calls, doesn’t it?” You asked, gesturing towards Zemo, whose somewhat conflicted expression did nothing to quell your worry.

“I don’t want you dead, liebling. You did not choose your fate, and you’ve kept to yourself instead of enforcing your will on others.” The Baron said confidently, and you acknowledged him with a nod, then turned a twisted smirk towards Barnes.

“You didn’t tell them my whole story, clearly. Was that to protect me, James, or was it to protect yourself?” You asked, and both Sam and Zemo turned their concerned gazes to the former soldier. You picked up your shotgun lazily, marching towards the house.

“Why don’t we go inside and Barnes can tell you the whole story. From the beginning, since he remembers all of it. Take off your shoes - if you track mud through my house I’ll make you regret it.” You called over your shoulder, tapping off your boots on the porch then heading through the door. Once inside, you kicked them off and headed towards your bedroom to get changed. When you returned, the Baron was standing in your kitchen making tea while Barnes and Sam took up every inch of space on the small sofa. You claimed your armchair after scooting it at least a foot out of Bucky’s reach.

“Well, go ahead, James. Tell them my sordid tale. Or, at least, the parts you conveniently left out.” You encouraged him, accepting the tea that Zemo offered you with a soft ‘Danke’. He nodded, returning shortly after with a tray of tea and water for himself and the others. When he sat in the other armchair no more than a foot or two away from you, you didn’t scoot away, simply looked him up and down quickly as if assessing a threat. His demure smile did little to soothe you, but you weren’t scared of him in this situation - he was much more terrifying when he had the time and space to plan your demise.

“Stroud was eight when… when I was sent to kidnap her. She spent her summers and school breaks in Sokovia, but grew up in Canada, chosen because she had no genetic deficiencies or hereditary health issues. She was on vacation with her parents visiting her family in Sokovia when they sent me. I… I took her to the lab just outside of Prague, and HYDRA left me there for a couple of months while she settled in. They unfroze me up a couple times through the years to… to test her.” Bucky explained, watching Sam and Zemo’s faces to see their reactions.

“Your family is Sokovian?” The Baron asked, and you shrugged your shoulders but nodded.

“My father, and my mother’s maternal side. They were in Novigrad.” You explained, and he gave you a sympathetic nod, “Tell them the rest, James. I don’t believe the news will make my Baron want to kill me any more, now that he knows I’m one of his citizens.”

It was said teasingly, but from the way Zemo shifted in his seat and pursed his lips, you didn’t think you were far off. You could understand - he had lost his homeland, and you were a relic of that, using it against him to protect yourself shamelessly.

“The scientists chose her because… they liked her genetics. She didn’t have any concerning genes, hereditary health conditions, and none of her family suffered from any obvious addictions…” Bucky took a deep, steadying breath before continuing, “This was important to them because… because they wanted to… they theorised that breeding two super soldiers might create a stronger variant.”

Silence reigned, while you sipped your tea patiently, letting the men absorb that painful and disgusting truth. Sam got up from the sofa, clearly needing to pace, his hands resting on his hips as he thought it over. Bucky seemed to sink into the sofa on the other hand, as if he could hide from this somehow. Zemo rubbed his hand over his mouth, lost in thought, but it seemed that the most active of them all found his voice first.

“So they made you kidnap a child so they could turn her into your… what, baby mama?” Sam asked, his sneering face matching yours. He wasn’t mad at Bucky, obviously, but the entire concept of this was entirely antithetical to his worldview and moral structure.

“Does that seem so far out of the realm of possibility for the psychotic eugenic-freak nazis, Falcon?” You asked, and he shuddered visibly, “I wasn’t trained the same way as the Widows, or the other Soldiers. I didn’t need to be. I was just a broodmare, and the Winter Soldier was to be my eighteenth birthday present. Shame they didn’t put a bow on him.”

Zemo squeezed his eyes closed in your periphery, his jaw clenched tightly, and you took pity on the men who were clearly struggling with this reveal. Sam’s fury was evident, his whole being like an exposed nerve upon which his last remaining vestiges of control were barely a bandaid. The Baron, however, kept himself far more under wraps than the other two. There were signs, of course, to his discomfort, but he restrained himself in a way that Sam and Bucky both were incapable of.

“I’m still… God, pleasantly surprised sounds terrible, but it was a shock that they waited until you were eighteen. I… I still have nightmares about that day. And only partially because you tried to bite my throat out.” Bucky said, trying to sound playful on that last part despite the trauma you were all discussing. He didn’t quite achieve the tone he was trying to set, and you gave him a serious look, bordering on sympathy.

“Tried? James, I nearly got your jugular. You had to go into surgery immediately, that’s the only reason they stopped the whole thing.” You reminded him, and he shrugged, clearly thinking he deserved it, “Enough about me. Tell me what brings three of the four horsemen to my doorstep.”

Barnes huffed a breath through his nose at the reference, but Sam stepped in to show you the video from Torres and explain the Flagsmashers to you. You hummed along appropriately, considering his words as he described the truck fight to you, and explained who the hell John Walker was when he came up. When Sam was done, you turned your gaze to the man who’d kidnapped you so many years ago and narrowed your eyes, dubious rather than angry.

“You come to my home bringing death and destruction to my doorstep, Barnes. Why? You think you’re enough to bring me into the light? I have weathered much darker storms, Soldat. I have kept to myself while your so called Avengers ripped themselves and each other apart. Why do you think I will join you now to squash this little resistance? All that your friends have done is raise the bar for sinister minds. I am not like you, James, I never wanted this. I never wanted to be a soldier, or to save the world. I wanted to be a gardener. I had such… Lofty aspirations. As if my hands can do anything now but destroy.”

You stood as you finished your tirade, eerily calm as you walked towards the kitchen, giving the men space. For your safety and theirs. You placed a box of your favourite tea on the counter, examining your kitchen for anything you would want to bring with you if you decided to accept.

“The people who have this serum are dangerous, doll. We don’t know how many there are, what their plan is, and how bad things will get. I need backup. I need someone who can withstand a fight against them, or this might go south.” Barnes explained as best as he could, “You’re hiding here, barely living. I get it. But you deserve better. If you help us, we can back you up against whatever remnants of HYDRA are left if they come for you. You could live a better life.”

You scoffed, splaying your hands out on the countertop to brace yourself as you considered your choices.

In the end, you think it must’ve been inevitable. What else could you have done?

~

Music pounds in your ears as you walk through a crowd towards the bar, your arm delicately linked with that of the Baron. No one knew you here despite your brief stint while you were roaming the world aimlessly in an attempt at getting away from your past, and having you as backup that blended in rather than outwardly dressed as a soldier was the best choice, according to Zemo. You weren’t sure you’d be much help at all - after years in the quiet of the woods by yourself, the bar was overwhelming at best. But, Zemo had been confident when he presented you with a dress that you were certain despite knowing very little about dresses that must have cost a fortune, and told you your role. Tonight, you would be arm candy. It had taken ages to get yourself groomed enough to pass as anything but a wild woman, but you had to admit as you admired yourself in the mirror that you did clean up well.

Despite knowing he is more of a threat than he appears - evident in the bulge of his bicep against your arm if nothing else - the man is a comforting presence. His grip on your waist is possessively tight as he guides you in front of him at the bar, caging you in with his body. His nose bumps against your ear and you shiver as he whispers against it.

“What would you like to drink, schatz?”

“Whiskey, please, Baron.” You say back, louder than he had asked you, looking at the bartender through your lashes. He hums a response, greeting Sam and asking for his drink order while he pours a shot for Zemo. You watch over the rim of your glass as Sam struggles with his repulsive drink, distracted by the soft stroking of Zemo’s hand over your stomach, and his lips against your neck. Something about having constant, roving contact with him is making it easier to tune out every other overstimulating input in the bar. You wonder if he planned it this way, or if he’s simply putting on a show. You can feel Bucky glaring at him, but the Baron seems nonplussed by the Winter Soldier’s ire.

You aren't a huge fan of physical contact, but Zemo had quietly explained his plan to you on the plane ride to Madripoor, and cleared what he might have to do to enforce your role with you. It was far more than you expected from the man, but the consideration was worthwhile in making you trust him at least a little. You had a safe word, which had been a new concept to you that Zemo had surprisingly patiently explained while studiously ignoring the way that Barnes glared daggers at his back. You weren't entirely sure what James' problem was with Zemo and you specifically, but you were putting it down to either base male ego due to the fact that you were intended for him (a gross concept) or protective instinct (less gross, but unnecessary). Or both, perhaps. He was only human, after all. 

The Sokovian had done a good job of pretending that Barnes didn't exist, focused entirely on you as he explained that he may have to touch you quite intimately, and likely would have to kiss you. Selby was a woman who delighted in the obscene at times, and had a taste for pretty things. She might demand a show of perversion to prove you weren't a spy while simultaneously getting her rocks off. You gave him permission to do what he had to do, and promised that after the events were over, you would check in with him privately. You had to admit, you were impressed by his genuine show of concern, and the amount of effort he was putting into establishing consent and trust with you.

Even now, he kept his body between yours and anyone else's in a way that protected your personal space but seemed possessive to the outward eye. A man approaches Zemo from behind, telling him that the message from above is that he isn't welcome, and you splay your hands across his stomach to brace him, staring up into his eyes to see if he needs you. He speaks to the man calmly, and you slip your hand under his shirt to trace along his ribs, your gaze moving between your date for the night and the man ‘interrupting’ it like you were simply an impatient girl. The man leaves, and you listen as Zemo explains the power broker, pausing briefly and switching to Russian as a hand clasps around his shoulder.

"Winter Soldier. Attack."

The man is swiftly removed, and you watch around Zemo's shoulder as Barnes goes on the attack, your arms slipping around the Baron's waist in a way that he clearly approves of from the rumble he lets out, and the hand that covers yours to hold you in place. He’s smirking as he watches the fight, and you scoff as he pushes another body at Bucky before making a snarky comment to Sam about how little it took for him to fall back into form. Like it wasn’t his fault. You roll your eyes, pressing closer to the Baron as if trying to watch the fight, and using that closeness to whisper in his ear,

“Try to enjoy this a little less, Baron. You’re being too obvious. S’a flimsy basis for the wedge you’re trying to drive.”

You feel him shiver against you, and his honey eyes find yours over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Apologies, häschen.”

Soon enough, the violence ends and you are brought back to meet Selby, letting the Baron guide you into his lap as if you belonged there. A large, warm hand closes around the meat of your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and you watch Selby's eyes track the movement with a hunger that makes you squirm against the man beneath you. Barnes and Sam watch with disapproval on their faces, though they snap back into character swiftly enough it goes unnoticed. The Baron gives you two squeezes, and you settle, draping yourself back against his chest with your head on his shoulder, face tucked demurely into his neck.

"She's a pretty thing, isn't she? New pet, Zemo? Last I heard you were in a German lockup. How'd you get out, and how'd you get a sweet little thing like that so quickly?" Selby asks, and Zemo laughs.

"People like us will always find a way." He remarks, "As for this little häschen... she hopped her way to me when she found out I was free, like a good little girl."

Selby's gaze digs into you, and you lift your head from Zemo's shoulder to trail kisses along his jaw, murmuring a quiet 'Hel, baby, I'm bored.' against his skin. You say it just loud enough to be heard, and you can see Selby out of the corner of your eye, her eyes glued to your thighs as if staring hard enough would make them open. You pointedly ignore the stirring you feel beneath you, knowing he’s only a man and at that, a man who’d been imprisoned for eight long years. It probably has nothing to do with you. The conversation continues around you as Zemo offers Selby the Winter Soldier in exchange for information about the super soldier serum, and you do your job well despite having no experience to draw on beyond the seconds the Winter Soldier had his hands on you before you nearly tore his throat out with your teeth. The Baron shivers as you kiss along his jugular, stopping briefly mid-sentence to squeeze your thigh with one hand while the other grips your hair and pulls you back.

“Häschen, I am working. You will wait.” He reprimands you gently, nipping your lower lip when you pout dramatically. Liquid fire floods your veins, and you have to clench your thighs to temporarily quell the burn even though you know he’ll feel it and probably know why.

“Give the girl a bone, Baron, she’s clearly gagging for it.” Selby commands, and you know from her tone that you’ve ignited her. Zemo glances at Selby briefly before sliding his hand further up under your dress, his fingertips skimming across your cunt. He gives you a startled look when he realises you’ve forgone wearing underwear, but masks it quickly before Selby could notice. You’re mortified to find that you’re soaked, and he can definitely feel it. He knows. The little hitch in his breath at the realisation makes your cunt throb.

“I’ve been trying to teach her patience, Selby. You know how easily a brat is born without a firm hand.” He reminds her somewhat playfully, and Selby smirks as she watches him spread your legs a little. It’s embarrassing to know she can see you, and she is shameless about tilting her head to take a long look, but you knew it was a possibility and you didn’t blame him for it. You try for an eager look instead of nervous, but yelp as Zemo’s hand slaps your cunt with a loud and worryingly wet-sounding smack, “She will get what she wants when she earns it.”

Something in that makes you sigh, and Zemo lets out a soft breath of a laugh, catching your lips in a kiss that sends fire through your veins. Your first kiss, somehow at 32, and it’s all a bit of a game. At least it’s a good one, the Baron’s soft lips moving gently against yours, guiding you to respond to him as his hand cups your jaw. His thumb traces over your cheek, tongue slipping past your lips to taste you, and you try desperately to make it seem like you aren’t as inexperienced as you are.

“Now that you’ve had your fun-” Selby begins as you part, leaving a string of saliva connecting you, only to be interrupted by the buzzing of Sam’s cellphone. You close your eyes, biting your cheek to restrain any noise of frustration, then shift in Zemo’s lap as if nothing is wrong at all while you survey the room for all aggressors and exits.

“Answer it. On speaker.”

Sam does, and you listen with a roll of your eyes as the man has a conversation with his sister. Strong hands hold you as the tension in the room mounts, until Sarah says her brother’s name, and the jig is up. Fortunately, Selby is swiftly assassinated. Unfortunately, Selby is now dead, and it appears as if it is your fault. Walking the streets of Madripoor’s Lowtown knowing that a bounty is likely already set on your head with the dings of phones all around you as the soundtrack of your departure is, you find, a great way to raise your blood pressure.

As all hell breaks loose, Zemo drags you in the opposite direction as Sam and Bucky, and you let him despite the obvious warning signals. You’re touched by how protective he acts, tucking you behind him when someone gets into your path. He efficiently takes out a man with a handgun, pilfering it from his body and leading you through several alleyways until you meet up with Sam and Bucky just as their pursuers are executed.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Zemo remarks to the two men, and you hum, keen ears picking up the crunch of boots just as Sharon Carter rounds into the alley with you all.

“Well this is too perfect.” She chimes, gun pointed directly at the Baron instead of Sam or Bucky. Instinct flares, and you move before you can rethink your actions, one hand clasping around her wrist to remove the gun while the other jabs sharply into her elbows to buckle her arms and stop her from being able to immediately retaliate. You turn the gun on her, grip confident as you step out of her reach.

“Who the fuck are you?” She asks, sneering as you place yourself between her and Zemo. She shifts as if trying to get an angle on him, and you mirror her effortlessly, eyebrow raised as you wait for her next move.

“You do not need to know.” You reply, tuning out the world to listen to her heart pound.

“What are you, Zemo’s new guard dog?”

You smirk. The Baron’s gaze sits heavy between your shoulders, and you wonder at his expression. Barnes and Wilson’s are less difficult to imagine.

“Woof.”

Sam and Bucky intervene to explain the situation, and you take the gun from Zemo before the others can demand it, surprised that he lets you so easily. His eyes burrow into you, and you tilt your head nearly in time with him, both of you attempting to understand each other as in the background, Sharon offers you all a place to stay in Hightown. As the boys negotiate with Sharon for her cooperation, you duck into the bathroom to clean up, pulling up the skirt of your dress. There are bruises on your thighs already, your healing factor taking you through the process faster than any human body could. More worrying to you is how wet you are. It’s not as if you don’t understand what is happening - you have a lack of experience, not knowledge - and it’s not as if you’ve never touched yourself. Unfortunately, your night isn’t over, and the cause of your apparent arousal was waiting in the other room. You’d pointed a gun at the proprietor of the house for him less than an hour prior. The instinct to protect was strong in you - it always has been, and apparently, you wanted to protect Zemo. Why? Because he had been kind to you?

You breathe out a heavy sigh, cleaning yourself up liberally before you head back into the other room, and you catch Zemo’s eyes darkening as he looks upon you. At first, you’re uncertain why, until you see his gaze flicker down to your pelvis and you remember that he’s the only one in the room aware that you aren’t wearing underwear. You bite your lip, hoping perhaps that he’ll forget or misunderstand how wet you were. You think you might die if he brings it up.

“Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay out of trouble and I’ll see what I can find.” Sharon says as she heads upstairs, and Zemo smirks as he shrugs, one hand open palmed in faux innocence while the other grips his tumbler of whiskey.

“Trouble?”

~

You have to give it to Sharon, she definitely knows how to throw a party.

You move through the crowd as the beat pounds in your ears, dodging drunken party goers with a supernatural alacrity gifted to you by the serum. The blue neons cast a surprisingly attractive light across the crowd, and you watch with growing amusement as Sam flirts with a girl while pretending to examine a gorgeous Monet. Bucky tries to get you to stay close to him, but you dip under his arm and continue on your path to the bar, ignoring the way he calls after you. A shot glass is slid into your hand moments after you smell him approaching. Warm and musky and delicious, with traces of leather and old books lingering on the edges of your awareness.

“We should talk.” The Baron murmurs, and you nod despite wanting to run, turning to him to find yourself once more caged between his body and the bar. You take a breath, clenching your thighs again as he examines your expression like he’s dissecting you.

“When the night is over, as promised, we will talk.” You reply, taking the shot easily after clinking it against his glass. He raises his glass to you, then takes the shot as if it isn't even alcohol, keeping his eyes on you. In this light, they’re more chocolate than honey, but no less expressive. You wonder if he’s getting drunk - your tolerance is better than any human’s, and you’re not sure how much it takes someone who isn’t a super soldier to begin to feel it - since he’s now on his third or fourth drink at the very least tonight.

“My room or yours?” Zemo asks, and you consider it before offering him a faint shrug.

“Yours will do. I can’t promise Buck won’t be trying to break my door down for an unnecessary heart-to-heart.”

The Baron smirks, and you lean up to kiss his cheek as you slip past him, feeling him lean into it but not letting yourself dwell on it, “Have some fun, Zemo. I’ll come find you in a little bit. Be safe.”

~

“Tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.” Sam mutters to you, and you hum, looking away from the painting Bucky is showing you to follow the other man’s gaze. It doesn’t take long for either super soldier to spot what has caught his attention, and you stifle a laugh, pushing at Sam’s shoulder playfully. Bucky’s snort and subsequent coughing on his drink makes your laughter break through, and you end up gripping Sam’s shirt for stability as you try to get a hold of yourself.

“He’s a rich boy, Sam, I’m sure you’d look much the same if you tried your hand at a slow waltz.” You tease, drawing a chuckle from Barnes. He leans closer to you, hand sweeping over your lower back in what you’re sure is probably a platonic way, but still gives you the heebie-jeebies as he reminds you that you don’t need to defend the Baron. His lips are too close to your ear, and he’s looking at you too intensely for you to handle despite his playful smile. You turn your back to Zemo to look at both Bucky and Sam, stepping out of the former Winter Soldier’s reach.

“So, who’s gonna go save him from himself and show him how to actually dance? Any takers? Consider it charity work if it makes you feel better.” You grin at them, your tone playful despite how tense you are, and Sam snorts.

“How d’you know how to dance? You’re basically a homeschool kid on steroids.”

That draws a genuine laugh from you, and you shrug your shoulders as you begin backing towards the Baron, decision made.

“I spent years roaming Europe and at least a month clubbing here in Madripoor, Sam. I may not have experience in a lot of things, but dancing is definitely not one of them. You keep Buck here unmolested by the masses, and I’ll handle our Baron.” You tease.

“Yeah, you’ll handle him alright. Gross.” Sam retorts mostly under his breath, only audible to you due to your enhanced hearing. You’re laughing as you approach Zemo, and you boldly slide an arm around his waist from behind as you press yourself up against his back, grinning as he startles. He twists to face you, and his smile is more open - genuine - as he takes you in. You’re not sure if he’s just decided he likes you, or if he’s a little tipsy.

“You’ve never danced like this before, Baron.” You state plainly, and he laughs, almost bashful but not quite as he shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Perhaps not, but I am enjoying myself.” He retorts, letting you guide him until his hips are pressing into yours, winding with the music in a way that can’t possibly be anything but intimate. You’re not sure why it’s so easy for you to touch and be touched by Zemo, when Bucky laying a hand on you sends shivers down your spine, but you don’t want to think on that too heavily right now under the blue neon lights and the pulsing of the music. As the crowd closes in around you, you move with them, all the while guiding Zemo through it. He’s observant, and he learns quickly, watching the rest of the crowd move until finally he feels confident. You grin as he presses against your back, his arm looping around your waist slowly enough that you could escape it if you so desired. His chin brushes your shoulder, and you’re tempted to look at him to see what he’s looking at, but you get distracted by a man who had been approaching you until he froze a couple feet away. You tilt your head curiously as he turns around and walks the other way, but Zemo’s mouth brushes against the back of your neck, and you scoff as you put two and two together.

“Protective or possessive, Baron?” You ask him boldly, and he smiles against your skin as if he isn’t surprised by the question at all.

“Oh, I believe both should cover it, schatzi.” he replies, guiding you towards the bar with a gentle hand on your back, “You don’t like when people touch you, even if you like them well enough. You flinched when Sharon touched your arm to apologise for her presumed insult, you shy away from Sam even though you laugh and smile with him often, and I don’t think I need to begin to touch on your avoidance of Barnes. I appear to be exempt from that, however I didn’t think he would be. I apologise if I was presumptuous.”

You order a drink for the both of you, as well as a shot each, laughing to yourself despite being a little touched by his observance.

“No, you’re not sorry. You know you were presumptuous, you’re just banking on the fact that you’re right. And now, when I tell you you are, it will reinforce your behaviour in the future.” You inform him, letting him cage you against the bar for the third time this night, “Fortunately, I’m okay with your presumptuousness, in this circumstance.”

Zemo clinks his shot against yours, and you both take them together, laughing when you spot an incredulous Sam and a frustrated Bucky staring directly at you. His metal arm is tense, hand fisted, and you’re glad he isn’t holding on to anything because it would most certainly be crushed by now. You give them a cheeky wave, and have to bite back your snicker when Zemo, seemingly noticing their attention, pulls you tighter to him so he can press his smug little smirk into the curve of your neck.

“You’re going to get yourself attacked soon, you know?” You ask in a sing-song voice, and he chuckles against your skin, collecting his drink and letting you lead him through the rows of stolen artwork. He lets you take his hand and squeezes gently, keeping no more than a step behind you the whole way.

“I’m certain I can handle it.” He retorts, and you laugh for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. You can’t remember the last time you laughed so much. You can’t remember the last time your life felt so full.

“Man, you really are trouble, aren’t you Baron?”

~

‘Interogating’ Nagel is a complete shitshow. You don’t blame Zemo for what he did, despite Sam and Bucky’s endless irritation. Nagel was smart enough to recreate and refine the super soldier serum, and he had to be stopped. He worked for HYDRA. You hadn’t had the chance to ask, but you were sure he easily could’ve been involved in the project that created you. He was the type who would never stop, no matter what got in his way - this was his life’s work. He was the type who would keep recreating it and refining it until he made even worse monsters than he already had.

You were just thankful that Zemo dragged you out with him before the second explosion, even if you would’ve been fine with the others. You didn’t have a gun, and a firefight would have been less than ideal, though you knew you could handle it. The Baron takes down several men while wearing a purple mask before you could even try to help him, and you roll your eyes as you follow him through the rows of shipping containers until he finds a car that makes his eyes light up. You can’t help a fond smile as he helps you into the passenger seat as if you need it, and you kick your feet up onto the dash. He offers you a surprisingly boyish grin, and you don’t feel any inclination to move away when his gloved hand closes around your thigh through your jeans, giving you a gentle squeeze that sears through you. You close your hand around his, and his gaze burns through you as he starts to drive, only looking away when he absolutely has to.

~

You’re going to die if he doesn’t tuck that stupid lock of hair out of his face.

Following the trail to Karli Morgenthau to Riga was simple with the use of Zemo’s jet, but you didn’t know the trials and tribulations that awaited you when you made it to his home in Latvia. While Bucky went on a walk to be sneaky, the Baron gave you and Sam a tour of his house, which you were kind of in love with. The style of the house was stunning, and you found yourself looking around excitedly for the next subtle detail that would catch your eye. Sam was quick to agree when Zemo offered you one of the three bedrooms to stay in by yourself, claiming the master as expected, and leaving the third to Sam and James. Then, he told you you could wear any clothing you found, that the second bathroom had a shower if you needed it, and departed into the master to clean up.

Sam gave you the honour first, and you tried to be efficient with your time, turning the water up just on the right side of too hot while you scrubbed yourself down. Once you were done, you dressed in a large purple dress shirt paired with a stolen pair of boxers that covered up enough of your thighs to be decent.

Now, sitting in the living room watching Zemo in his navy silk robe as he moved confidently around the kitchen, you wish you would’ve chosen anything else. When he first saw you, his eyes had burned into you. Now, you had three pairs of eyes on you for very different reasons, and you wanted to punch someone in the mouth. Sam’s gaze is a bit disdainful, since he detests Zemo and finds it incredibly uncomfortable that you don’t. Zemo looks equal parts smug and starving, which you wouldn’t mind so much if it weren’t for James glaring between the two of you like you’d both insulted him. His glare was softer on you, sure, but it was still uncomfortable when he had no right to be upset with you for wearing clean clothes. It wasn’t your fault that they’d rushed you out of your house when you agreed to help, and you’d only packed a couple of outfits.

As the boys discuss Karli, you find yourself lost in thought. What was your endgame, here? The Flagsmashers had attacked the GRC (who could all get fucked if you were being honest) instead of simply stealing from them, blowing up a building with several people still inside. There was a death toll now. That changed things. You could sympathise with Morgenthau, but you weren’t at all comfortable with her possession of the super soldier serum - both the vials of it, and that which ran through her and her companions' veins. At this point, she seemed to be escalating, and there was nothing worse than the escalation of a being with unnatural abilities. Power corrupts, and it was beginning to corrupt her if it hadn’t already warped her mind.

The Baron rants about the serum, and Karli, and you sigh as you hop up onto the counter. Sam wants to save Karli, you know it, and you’re sad for him. You know she won’t give up, no matter the cost. Nothing could outweigh her aspirations at this point. Hopefully, speaking to her at Danya’s funeral would help, but you were aware it was equally as likely to feed Karli’s anger as it was her compassion. Your eyes track the turkish delight that Zemo tosses to Sam and you have to restrain a grin at the way he says ‘Titi’.

“Zemo is right. Karli is dangerous. It’s worth trying to speak to her to see if she can be reasoned with, but you can’t hold out too much hope, Sam. It’ll break your heart when she fails you. And she will.”

Zemo gestures to you in agreement, and you hum as he plucks a turkish delight from the dish, reaching for it. To Sam and Bucky’s disgust, he unwraps it for you, and you open your mouth obediently for it even though you might’ve normally protested. Bugging Sam and James was beginning to become a sport.

“Come on, man.” Sam grumbles under his breath as you lick the sugar from the Baron’s fingertips, and you flip him off blindly, grinning around the sweet treat. Zemo’s eyes are all molten chocolate as he watches you chew.

“Okay, you know what? I’m starving. I’m getting food. Buck, c’mon. If she wants to spend her time with the Baron, we might as well let her keep an eye on him, and get ourselves some time without him.” Sam remarks, slapping Bucky’s arm, and the two depart while you shout over your shoulder for them to bring dinner home for you. Once they’re gone, Zemo raises an eyebrow at you.

“We didn’t get to talk.” He reminds you, and you nod, “I would like to. Have I made you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, and he examines your expression for honesty before continuing, “I hoped Selby wouldn’t take an interest in you. I apologise for… groping you the way I did. I hope I did not cause you undue discomfort. Thank you, for disarming Miss Carter when she pointed the gun at me in Madripoor.”

Shrugging, you lean towards him a little, trying to read his face despite feeling as if you know what he wants.

“Her interest made her ask fewer questions. You don’t have to apologise for touching me - you asked permission before the mission, and I enjoyed it, as I’m sure you’re aware. I know that Sam and Barnes don’t trust you, but I trust what I know of you - you’ve gone out of your way to establish consent with me when you didn’t have to, you’ve protected me despite the serum that pumps through my veins, and I know you want to put an end to the Flagsmashers if only because they chose their fate. I don’t agree with everything you’ve done, Zemo, but I… I like who you are, and I can understand your choices even if I don’t approve of them.” You explain, rolling your lip over your teeth, and he moves a little closer to you.

“Helmut.” He murmurs, and you smile, watching as he drops a hand to your knee to see if you’ll protest, “I would like it if you would call me Helmut.”

“Not Hel?” You ask playfully, grinning as his grip tightens, pulling you to the edge of the counter as he steps between your legs.

“If you want to feel the softness of my bed while I reclaim my stolen clothes, by all means.” Zemo replies, and your pupils dilate as you consider the possibilities. The consequences. He’s so close, and you clench your knees around his hips, drawing a soft gasp from his lips. You swallow it, cupping his cheeks in your hands as your lips press against his. It takes very little effort for Zemo to lift you into his arms, and he carries you to the master bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him so he can drop you on his bed in privacy. He wouldn’t put it past Barnes or Sam to interrupt them on purpose.

“You weren’t kidding - this is way softer than the bed you gave me, Hel.” You tease, and he chuckles as he crawls over you, pressing you back into the sheets. He doesn’t hover over you like you might’ve thought he would. Instead, he lays mostly on top of you, hips against yours, and you feel smothered by him in the best way possible. He kisses you softly at first, but his passion grows as you respond fiercely, your hands gliding through his hair to get a good grip.

“Have you done this before, liebling?” He asks quietly, hushed with the intimacy of the closeness between you. You shake your head, locking your legs around his hips as you comb your fingers through his hair.

“When I was… before I escaped, they made the Winter Soldier pin me to my bed and… he was about to put it inside, so I leaned up and bit his neck as hard as I could. Since then, I haven’t had much desire. I danced a lot at clubs around Europe and in Madripoor when I was running from HYDRA before I found my cabin, to get used to people, but I never… I never indulged. You were my first kiss.” You admit, curling his hair around your fingers, and you can see the way his pupils dilate at that. He captures your lips again, and you feel the rumble of his moan against you, bringing a smile to your lips.

“Do you have a purity kink, Helmut?” You ask with a giggle, and he nips at your collarbone, grinding his hips into you.

“Perhaps. I hadn’t thought of it before,” He admits breathlessly, pausing to suck a dark mark into your neck, “I like the idea of being the only man to have you.”

Warm hands slowly unbutton the shirt you’re wearing, and you lay your head back with a gasp as your Baron’s lips trail kisses down over every inch of exposed skin. He smirks against your sternum, murmuring sweetness in Sokovian that has you sighing and tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I understand you, you know?” You whisper, and he blinks up at you as you’ve cut him off in the middle of waxing poetic about the size and shape of your breasts. He raises an eyebrow, tweaking your nipple between his fingers and biting down gently on the curve of your breast.

“I know, liebling. I can feel you tremble as you burn for me.”

You grab at his robe in retaliation, shoving it down over his shoulders insistently while he simultaneously tries to get his stolen boxers off of you. It doesn’t go very well for either of you, so he sits back out of reach to take off his robe for you, leaving himself in only a pair of boxers similar to the ones you’re wearing. Your fingertips rake through his chest hair as he crawls over you, and he sighs at the feeling, pulling your legs around him. In one easy movement, he pulls you up into his lap, one hand holding your lower back while the other strips his shirt from you. He kisses you slowly, sliding his hands into your boxers to grasp at your ass, squeezing as he pushes your hips together so you can feel how much he wants you.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Zemo whispers against your lips, forcing himself to part from you despite how much he’d rather not. He kisses along your neck as he waits for you to answer, thumbs stroking over your nipples as he grinds against you.

“I’m inexperienced, Hel, I’m not dead.” You retort with a laugh, gripping his hair, “You feel bigger than the toys I’ve used though.”

That draws a hum from your Baron, and he lays you back on the bed, hooking his fingers in your boxers so he can drag them down your legs to toss them behind him. You look down at the tent in his boxers, wetting your lips and slowly spreading your legs for him, letting him take a good long look at what he has done to you. A low groan slips from his lips and he skims his hands up your thighs to soothe the tremble in them.

“I won’t hurt you, schatz.” He reminds you, gentle but serious, and you nod to say you know and understand. You glance at his boxers again, and he follows your gaze, quickly realising what you want. You watch as he shuffles out of the tight fabric, tossing it off the side of the bed and giving you a chance to stare at him. You’ve seen a cock before from a distance, but your only other close-up experience hadn’t put you in a position to see anything and while the Winter Soldier was being taken away by medical staff, you were unable to see anything, too busy with the taste of blood and flesh in your mouth. It didn’t help that one of the scientists took it upon himself to backhand you as punishment for your act of self-defence, sending you reeling.

Helmut Zemo is a gifted man. You can’t help but stare as he gives his cock a couple slow strokes to ease his discomfort, thumb stroking over the head to collect his precum to ease the glide. He’s bigger than you expected, thick enough that you aren’t sure how he’s going to fit, and long enough that you know he’s going to bump against your cervix with every thrust. You swallow hard, mentally trying to compare his cock to the toys you’ve used in the past, and trembling as you realise he’s easily twice as thick.

Sensing your panic, Zemo crawls onto the bed with you, covering you with his body again as he presses kisses to your lips. Your legs wrap almost instinctively around his waist, but he doesn’t try to take advantage of the position, focusing on intimacy instead of quick pleasures.

“Relax, liebling. I’m right here. I have you.” he murmurs as he nuzzles against your cheek, and you let out a breathy sigh, clutching at his back. He strokes his hands up and down over your sides until you relax under his touch, then begins a slow trail of kisses down your chest and stomach. You sigh as you realise what he’s doing, and your head falls back against the pillows before his lips even manage to make contact with the wet, aching heat of your cunt. His hands close around your thighs from below, pushing them up and apart as he plants a kiss against you, then swipes the flat of his tongue up through your cunt all the way up to flick across your clit. You shudder, and he holds you a little tighter, delving in with soft licks and sucking kisses that have you grabbing at the sheets beneath you.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you whimper his name as he swirls his tongue around your clit then sucks it into his mouth, his eyes dark as night as he stares up at you to watch your face. Every move is calculated, running off of your reactions and looking to draw out more, desperate to feel you fall apart for him. It isn’t until his fingers gently prod at your entrance that you feel anything but pleasure. A small spike of fear, soothed by a gentle kiss to your tummy that feels unexpectedly sweet.

One finger, and then a second fill you, but you feel no pain. It’s about the same girth as the toy you’ve used, but no toy has ever been able to stroke across that spot inside of you with such surgical precision. His lips close around your clit, and you let out a cry as the dual sensations overwhelm you, trying your damnedest not to yank on his hair though you’re sure you fail since he grunts against you. There is nothing urgent or rushed about this - this is a slow, methodical dismantling of every rational thought, every worry, every fear you’ve ever had. This is a reconstruction on a spiritual level, replacing worries with pleasure, and fears with happiness, and thoughts with need.

You realise as you have the thought to tell Zemo how good he’s making you feel that there’s certainly no question about it. You didn’t even notice how much noise you were making, the soft whines and moans falling from your lips completely unrestrained, and it’s as if you zone back into your surroundings only to have them wiped away. A crook of your Baron’s fingers and a particularly hard suck on your clit have you tossing your head back against the pillows and shouting his name, “Baron!” and “Helmut!” in equal measure.

You return to yourself again to find yourself cradled in your Baron’s arms, his nose nuzzling gently against your cheekbone as he strokes your back, your thighs clenched around his hips as he presses you bodily into the mattress. You blink, and he smiles at the sight of you, dipping down for a gentle kiss that makes you tremble.

“Oh.” You whisper, and he laughs softly.

“Are you okay, schatz? Do you need a minute?” Helmut asks. You shake your head urgently, tangling your fingers in his hair so you can pull him into a kiss that has him moaning into your mouth. You chase the taste of yourself, tongue sliding across his, then part with a gasp.

“I need you.” You whisper, and he groans against your lips, grinding his hips into yours.

“You have me.” He promises, pushing himself up a little so he can take himself in hand and press the head of his cock against your desperate cunt.

“Now, Hel. Don’t make me wait.”

His groan reverberates through you as he pushes inside, inch by inch, carving his way through your insides. By the time he bottoms out, you’re panting for breath, clinging to his back as he presses his chest to yours. The closeness soothes you, and keeps you from digging in your nails.

“Fuck.” You moan, and he groans in response, nodding against your shoulder.

“You’re so tight, schatz, you’re strangling my cock.” He murmurs without a hint of complaint in his tone. You don’t think you’ll ever be ready when he finally starts to pull out, but his next thrust drives the breath from your lungs, and you sob, tears in your eyes from the pleasure. He kisses them away so gently that you nearly want to cry again, whispering to you about how beautiful you are, how perfect you feel around him, and how desperately he needs you to be his.

“I am!” You proclaim, and he groans his approval, catching your lips in a kiss that sends fire racing through your veins. His pace has been brutally slow so far, but he begins to move faster now, each thrust driving him in to the hilt. It feels like punishment. It feels like atoning. It feels like rebirth. It feels like a new beginning without the fear that’s kept you trapped in the woods all by yourself for so many years you felt like giving up. Blunt teeth clamp around your neck and you shudder, tilting your head back to bare more of it to him.

“Mine.” He mutters around your skin, and you nod frantically.

“Yours. And you’re mine, Helmut. My Baron. I won’t give you back.” You insist, and his laugh is broken by a groan. By the time he releases his hold on you, you’ve got a fresh bruise darkening on your throat.

“You may have to, schatz. Your friends don’t want me out of prison.” He reminds you softly even as he shatters you into pieces, each thrust breaking you apart and putting you back together again. You clutch him tighter to you like somehow, in the shattering and reassembling, he can become part of you. Pressure builds inside of you until you feel fit to explode.

“F-Fuck them.” You growl, and he reaches between you to stroke your clit, gritting his teeth. He groans - nearly growls - as he comes, filling you to the brim and fucking it in deeper with his next couple of thrusts. The heat sends you reeling, and you choke on a gasp as your orgasm breaks across you like a tsunami, washing you clean.

Laying together, panting for breath under your Baron’s sturdy weight, you realise the choice you’ve made for yourself. He’s gentle as he pulls out of you, stroking your legs to make sure you aren’t too stiff, and reaching for his towel to clean you up.

“Perhaps, showering after this might have been a wiser choice.” He murmurs, and you shake your head.

“No, clean was nice, I would’ve been self conscious otherwise. This was perfect. I’ll shower again if I have to.”

That draws a soft laugh from Zemo’s lips, and he curls around you, nuzzling his face into your neck, “Do you need anything from me?”

You contemplate his question for a moment, then hum softly to yourself, nodding.

“Just hold me a little longer. I promise I’ll get up soon.”

Helmut rolls his eyes, pressing kisses along the line of your shoulder as he strokes his hands down over your body.

“You’re in no rush, liebling. We have time.”

You sigh, because you know that you really don’t.

~

You’re reminded that Baron Helmut Zemo had a child before you as well as a wife when he interacts with the children in Riga. You overhear him speaking to them, and acknowledge them with a nod when he gestures to you and tells them you’re safe too. You know this will likely come back to bite you, but you let Zemo play his games. He’s got a plan, clearly, and you’re happy enough to go along with it. At least someone has one.

Ever since Sam and Bucky got back to the house, they’ve been giving you odd looks, and you can see the judgement in their eyes. You aren’t quite sure if they think you’re too stupid to know yourself and have just been wrapped up in Zemo’s sugary lies, or if they think you’ve switched sides somehow, but either way it’s beginning to get on your nerves. You aren’t a child, and you’re not stupid. You know when someone is lying to you, and you don’t sense mistruths or even manipulation from your Baron.

As Zemo leads you back into the house with Bucky and Sam, the argument starts up again. Sam believes in Karli’s goodness, while Bucky is being more practical. You roll your eyes as you sit beside Sam, and Zemo admits that he knows where the funeral for Donya will be.

“Keep talking.” Bucky snaps, and you breath out a heavy sigh. Like that’ll ever happen.

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage.” Zemo replies simply. You watch as Bucky stands, grabbing Zemo’s glass and tossing it at the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” He asks, and you plant your feet loudly, startling both men.

“Simmer down before I fucking make you.” You snap, while Sam gets up to stop Bucky.

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” The leveller head says, drawing a snort from you, “Let me make a call.”

 You roll your eyes, holding your hand out for a cup.

“You need to stop antagonising them. I don’t want to have to hurt them, Helmut.”

~

The arrival of John Walker throws a wrench in things. The new Captain America with everything to prove is not a stable resource, and you want nothing to do with him. As he approaches, all ramped up to 11 like it's his new state of being, you put yourself between him and Zemo.

“This better be an unbelievable explanation-”

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Sam insists, his gaze flicking to you, and you tilt your head innocently as if you’ve no idea what he means.

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo explains, beginning to move past Walker. John puts a hand on Zemo’s chest, and you grab it before it can make contact, holding onto him tightly.

“Well whe-”

“Awww, ain’t this romantic?” You ask teasingly, giving him a gentle shove out of Zemo’s way. He scowls at you, and you let him go to slip by with your Baron.

“All we know is, it’s a memorial.” Sam continues behind you, and you ignore the argument as Walker tries to ‘reason’ with Sam. Thank God for Lemar, as he seems to be the only thing keeping Walker in line.

“We’ll deal with you later.” Walker states firmly, pointing first to Zemo, and then you.

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.” Zemo replies, and you walk with him towards the little girl he’d been speaking to about Donya’s funeral. She leads you into a building, and you growl as Walker pushes Zemo, handcuffing him to a metal furnace door. Bucky hooks his arms under your armpits to stop you from fighting back, and you kick your legs out to smack against Walker’s stupid shield, running up his back and flipping over Barnes. He fights to get ahold of you, throwing you to the ground finally when you keep getting loose.

“Hey, you’ve got ten minutes-” Walker shouts after Sam.

“Really?” Zemo asks as he tests his handcuffs. His gaze finds you, checking you’re alright before looking back at John Walker.

“-then we’re going things my way.” The new Captain America finishes, making you roll your eyes.

“Aggressive.” Helmut comments, and you snort, “but I get it.”

You eye the handcuffs, but Zemo shakes his head, and you sigh.

“So, who the fuck is this?” John asks, and Bucky shakes his head.

“She’s none of your fucking business, Walker. Don’t look at her.”

Lemar and John both put their hands up, brows raised as they examine you, and you lean against the furnace door next to your Baron to keep an eye on the situation. Walker is clearly falling apart, staring at his shield like a psychopath, and you catch Lemar looking at you. You raise an eyebrow, then look at Walker and nod towards him. He follows your gaze, but doesn’t say anything.

“Uh-uh. No, no, no, this is a bad idea.” Walker starts, and you let Barnes field this one, knowing it won’t end well. You step closer to Zemo, watching the clearly unstable man with wariness in your eyes. You don’t want to have anything to do with him if you can avoid it. He goes after Sam, Lemar and Bucky at his back, and you rush to follow after giving Zemo a pointed look to take care of himself.

“You’re going to ruin it, Walker, give Sam a fucking chance. It’s like you want blood, you fucking maniac. What kind of Captain America doesn’t believe in peaceful conversation to avoid violence!?”

Your words fall on deaf ears, and you watch Karli run, Bucky close on her heels. You bolt off into the maze of the building, looking for where Karli could have gone, only to jump at a gunshot. You run in that direction, gunshots ringing in your ears, and you pray Zemo’s okay. You enter the room just moments after a shield collides with Zemo’s head, blue liquid and glass sprayed across the floor, and Karli nowhere to be found. You growl so deeply your chest feels like it’s about to come apart, and you’re across the room before you even know it.

“WALKER!”

Your fist nearly meets Walker’s spine, but Bucky grabs it, wrenching you back.

“NO! He could’ve killed him! You’re no Captain America, you fucking monster, I’ll tear you to pieces! Let me at him, Buck, I could kill him right here and solve all your problems. I’m already on the run, what’s one more stain on my name? Let me hurt him, please, come on, let me hurt him!” You shout, worming in Barnes’ grasp, but he’s stronger than you. All you’ve got on him is speed.

“Control your rabid dog.” Walker snaps, and you scream with frustration. Barnes drags you a few feet away, holding you tightly to him while you rage. Walker and Lemar leave, and only then does he let go of you, letting you sink to lift Zemo into your arms. You stand easily with his weight, your face permanently etched into a sneer as you stalk past Sam towards your Baron’s home. Sam follows you, watching as you lay Zemo down on the couch and get a cold towel for his head. When he wakes with a groan of pain, you bring him a drink, covering his eyes before he can open them.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, and you sigh.

“Barnes held me back. I was gonna break his spine.”

“Jesus Christ, kid, what the hell?” Sam asks, and you roll your eyes.

“He deserves worse. He’s a loose fucking cannon and you know it. The title is too much for him - it’s making him insane.” You spit as you stalk out of the room, “I need to wash up. If Walker shows him, tell him I’m going to rip his spine out and strangle him with it.”

Zemo laughs, but Sam scoffs, slamming down into an armchair with a muttered curse about excessive violence. 

~

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

“I didn’t give him the shield.” 

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” You hear the tail end of Sam and Bucky’s argument as you exit the bathroom, tossing your bag down as the door slams open from Walker’s kick.

“Alright, that’s it, let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Walker orders as he stalks in with Lemar at his back.

“Hey, now, slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re running in here is your mouth.” Sam retorts calmly, “Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today, and we’ll need all hands on deck for whatever’s coming next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?” John asks, and you roll your eyes, moving forwards as Zemo circles the room towards you, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?”

You snort as he does just that, cracking your knuckles, only to be interrupted by the timely arrival of the Dora Milaje. Your shoulders relax, and Zemo gives you a quizzical look, but you don’t respond. They might be coming for Zemo, but Walker won’t be able to help himself. He’ll step right into their way, and get his ass kicked. You watch as exactly as predicted, Walker gets himself an asskicking, and you watch with a smile as you share a drink with your Baron. You’re not even slightly surprised when he grabs your hand and drags you into the bathroom behind him, closing and locking the door once you’ve grabbed your bag.

Together, you flee into the sewers, your hand gripping his as you race towards freedom. No matter how much you wanted to kick Walker’s ass, you know that the Dora Milaje will be able to do a better, and more demoralising job. And that’s what you’d prefer, honestly. You want John Walker broken down to his core as he realises that he never deserved the title of Captain America. Truthfully, he was just a placeholder while Sam figured his shit out.

~

The message you send to Barnes is simple.

‘If you take him from me, I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, James Buchanan Barnes.’

You discard the burner phone on a table outside of a cafe, running to catch up with Zemo where he waits in a nearby alley.

~

“They’ll come for me.” Helmut murmurs as he rubs his soapy hands across your stomach, up to cup your breasts, “I can only escape for so long.”

You snort, leaning back into his arms while your massage shampoo into his hair for him.

“They’ll certainly try. There are plenty of places we can hide.” You insist, sighing happily as he nuzzles against your neck. You dip under the running water to rinse yourself off, stealing a kiss from your Baron once the water runs clear. He swaps places with you and you run your hands over him slowly to rinse the soap away. Once the bubbles have been washed away, he presses you into the wall of the shower, and you gasp as he angles himself.

“Okay?” He asks, breathless, and you nod eagerly, spreading your legs a little wider. He pushes inside of you with a sigh, and you grasp at the tiles, eyes rolling back in your head.

“God, you feel so good around me, liebling. I did not… I did not expect this. I did not expect you.” He murmurs, grabbing your hips and rocking into you.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me.” You whisper, letting him pull you back against him so he can steal a kiss, “I won’t lose you, Helmut. I won’t. If they come for you, I’ll destroy them.”

He sighs, holding you tighter, pressing soothing kisses to your neck, “You cannot, schatz. Do not sacrifice yourself for me.”

His next thrust makes you cry out, and he slips a hand between your thighs to stroke across your clit, driving you closer to the edge. It’s been barely any time at all, but you’ve been pent up with emotions, from aborted fights to nearly losing him. He holds you together as you tip over the edge in his arms, his thrusts quickening before you’ve even caught your breath. He strokes your clit firmly, and you find yourself caught in the drag of the tide, unexpectedly rising to your crest again so quickly you find yourself shaking in his arms.

“I can’t!” You gasp, and he chuckles against your neck.

“You can, and you will. Come for me, schatz. Let your Baron make you feel good.”

You claw at the tiles, pinned between the cold of them and the heat of his chest against your back, and your legs shake as he sends you spiralling over the edge into your end, shouting his name into the steam. He grunts against your neck, biting into your shoulder as he buries himself balls deep inside of you to fill you up. Gentle but strong hands clean you up, then guide you out of the shower and into a warm, plush robe. Your Baron guides you into the bedroom, and then into the bed, crawling in behind you to curl up around your back.

“Sleep, liebling. A nap will make things seem clearer when we wake.”

~

Together with Zemo, you decide to take your time together to hunt down the HYDRA lab you’d been kept in, and the scientists who may have worked there and escaped their due. Finding the lab was simple enough considering you’d escaped it fourteen years ago on foot. It wasn’t in any of HYDRA’s released records, which worries you. How many more facilities do they have hiding? Zemo watches with a smile on his face as you wrench open the door, breaking its seal as if the metal were molten. Not four steps in, you find the bloody bullet buried in the wall that took Imogen’s life, and you hear her screaming in your head for you to keep running as the blood drained rapidly from her body. There’s a stain on the floor, and it taunts you, outlining part of the shape of a body. You find her tucked into a security office only a few doors down, and Zemo has to lead you away, reading the security logs to discover what happened. Normally, she would have been discarded.

According to the logs, after you broke out, they went into a catastrophic failure, and the entire lab was purged with the loss of their only test subject. They didn’t think you’d make your way back to the lab so nothing was actually removed aside from personnel, but they didn’t need the facility so they closed it down and sealed it in case they needed it at a later date. You hunt through their files with your Baron, comparing them to the records of HYDRA operatives who’ve been found, until you find only one name that hasn’t been tagged.

Vanya Nikitin, one of the lead scientists behind your project. You remember him. He’s the one who hit you after you wounded their precious Winter Soldier. You stare at his picture, chest heaving as you find yourself lost in memories. How he used to touch your face and chest when you were strapped down and losing consciousness. How he stroked your stomach before he unleashed the Winter Soldier on you. How he promised you’d birth an army for them.

“Schatz.”

You jerk out of your spiral and glance at Helmut, letting him guide you over to look at the documents he’s digging through. He gestures to a paper and you muddle your way through it, your Russian rusty at best.

Fertility rates… show remarkable increase.

Your Baron’s hand strokes up and down your spine soothingly, and you crumple the page in your hand, “I can take the morning after pill.”

“You could.” Helmut agreed, sliding his arms around your waist, soothing you with his heat against your back, “For once, liebling, the choice is yours. I am happy to let you make this decision - I will support you if you want a child, and I will support you if you do not. You can have whatever you want.”

You nod, resting against him for a moment and letting yourself breathe. Something about being here with him is soothing. Like you’ve reclaimed the space from such evil, and it is once more just a simple laboratory instead of a place in which you were tormented.

“I can, can’t I? I mean, who the fuck is gonna stop me?”

Helmut smiles against your skin, and you only break away from him a few moments later to begin packing up the documents. Your phone dings, and you pull it out, looking at the screen with a raised eyebrow. You don’t know how the fuck you have reception in here, but it appears you do. The message makes you smile, and you show Helmut, stealing a kiss from him with happiness bubbling in your gut like champagne.

You’re emptying out a filing cabinet when you stumble across gold, pulling out Nikitin’s file and tossing it down on the desk in front of you, open to his personal information.

“Hey, Helmut, how do you feel about hunting for squid?”

“Whatever you like, schatz. I will give you whatever you like.”

~

“Breaking news. We’ve got a report from the Czech Republic - Two dead and thankfully none injured after an explosion at what appears to be a former HYDRA facility. Captain America Sam Wilson expresses his profound regret at the loss of Baron Helmut Zemo, former Sokovian royalty and the man who once tried to bring the Avengers to ruin. According to Wilson, the other deceased was a woman named Y/N Y/L/N, a victim of a HYDRA plot to create an army of super soldiers by way of forced impregnation of two victims of the super soldier serum. It appears that the two were attempting to destroy the facility in which she had been forcefully confined from the age of eight after she was kidnapped, and were caught when the detonation went off early.

James Buchanan Barnes and Sam Wilson will be holding a vigil for HYDRA victims in Y/L/N’s honour tonight outside of City Hall. A second vigil will be held at the Sokovian Memorial in three days time in honour of the late Baron and his family, to honour all the Sokovian lives lost, and those who no longer have a home.”

[ncityprincess]

How Doyoung would be in bed

I’m so in love I’m with this man it’s ridiculous 🥲

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

-im sorry but he gives me undercover sex god vibes 😭

-like yes he looks so sweet and soft on the outside

-and yes he does enjoy soft and sweet lovemaking

-but that gummy smile and angelic singing voice can’t fool me

-if you look underneath there’s a freak waiting to be unleashed

-he puts his career above anything, so he’s not just gonna have random rendezvous and hook ups

-he’s not going to waste his time on meaningless flings that could tarnish his reputation

-he’s gonna hold out for someone special that he truly cares about

-so when he finally finds The One, it’s game over

-he lets his wild side come out, and he can’t wait to indulge in all of his fun fantasies (with prior consent of course)

-he reads as a pleasure dom to me

-your pleasure comes first, and he doesn’t care if it takes you 30 minutes to cum

-he’s gonna lay there and eat you out or fuck you until you’re a moaning mess underneath him

-like Johnny, he gets a warm feeling in his chest when his beautiful girl is all fucked out and glossy eyed underneath him

-it makes him feel like he’s worked hard to get you to this point, and to see you respond like this makes him feel untouchable

-likes it when you get super messy, especially when you’re slobbering on his fingers

-curses when he can see drool dripping from your lips down to your tits

-calls you his pretty, messy girl

-and i believe in my heart of hearts that this man is packing

-like he has such a beautiful, long dick that hits all the right places

-he loves to fuck your pretty mouth

-like a good ole classic mouth fucking with you on your knees on the floor and him standing over you

-sometimes a he’s a little too rough, but he always assures you that he will stop if it gets to be too much

-in fact, he can be overly cautious with you in bed

-because he likes to dabble in the kinkier side of things sometimes, it’s crucial that he gets your enthusiastic consent

-he never wants to make you feel unsafe and cross any boundaries

-so he’s gonna ask you a million and one times if this is okay with you

-you are his precious little baby after all <3

-I think he also makes the prettiest sounds in bed 😮‍💨

-like you know at the end of love on the floor when he hits that falsetto note?

-just like that

-but he also makes gritty, guttural sounds through clenched teeth

-especially while he’s praising you

-“fuck, you’re taking that dick so well baby” he says as he pounds into you from behind, pushing your face deeper into the mattress

-oh yeah, he’s also kinda rough when he handles you

-shoving you into different positions

-gripping your jaw particularly tight

-slapping your pussy just to make sure you’re paying attention to him

-but he’s like lovingly rough if that makes sense

-like pulling your hair back, but also caressing your face and telling you how pretty you look like this

-I think he would be open to using toys or props too like a vibrator or some silk ties

-would loveee it when you wear black lingerie with stockings or garter belts

-and stilettos too

-he’s a walking enigma

-but if he’s feeling particularly calm and relaxed, he doesn’t mind rocking into you gently

-he’ll put on a cute drama on a snowy Saturday night and hoist your leg up as he spoons you from behind

-lazy, slow sex makes him feel even more connected to you

-when he’s in his softer mood, he will worship every inch of your body

-kisses you from head to toe

-treats you like a goddess

-when you guys finish, he goes back to asking if you’re okay and if you need anything

-and after you reassure him that you’re fine, he kisses all over your face and holds you all night

<3

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 4

Prompt: Teratophilia Pairing: monster!IN(Jeongin) x fem!reader WC: 3,395 (I literally said “what” outloud...no way) Summary: Would you still love me if I was a worm? Of course you would! But what if I had three tails and claws and teeth sharp enough to rip your throat out and black eyes? Would you still love me then? This is a work of fiction, it does not represent IN or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.  Additional warnings under the cut.

TW/CW: Idk a great tag for this but Jeongin’s conscious is essentially trapped when he shifts into a monster (unwillingly), the monster is very enthusiastic about fucking, Jeongin is not so much out of fear you’ll get hurt. That said IDK where to rate on the consent scale.

Also I use italics to indicate conversations between the monster and Jeongin. Sorry if that’s annoying or unclear.

Simple warnings - monsterfucking, big dick, humping, unprotected sex, breeding, knotting.

 “Babe, I think you need to know something about me before you start fantasizing about our dream apartment together,” Jeongin sighs. He knew this day was coming. For as excited as he was to dream about the future with you, he was afraid. He knew if it got to this point he’d have to tell you. Mentally listing the number of people who knew and the number of people who’d stuck around he found the number could be held in one hand alone.  You don’t even look up from your phone, scrolling aimlessly, waiting for him. Your eyes flick up to look at him as he fails to continue further. “Mhm. Okay?   “You know how you have a time of the month and like, I am super understanding and buy you supplies and have no problem going out to grab pads or even, like, lay down a towel because a good orgasm can really help cramps? I’m going to need you to be just as understanding okay?   Finally you look up from your phone, concerned. “You don’t need the monologue, what’s up?   He takes another deep breath, hands gripping his knees. Staring straight forward he blurts his whole prepared speech, “I’m actually a monster. A real monster with teeth and fangs. Once a month I need to lock myself to a chair because the need becomes too strong and I could-I could hurt people.”  You’re a blank, expressionless. It worries him, it isn’t a reaction he’d prepared for. “Okay? Like a theoretical monster or-”  “No, like a schedule three restricted access elevated permissions type monster. As in only a few people and even fewer know who are alive. Real serious shit type of monster.   Your brows furrow, “like a werewolf or…?”  At least you don’t look scared. It’s only natural for you to have questions he tells himself. “It’s complicated. Not like one of those hollywood types. Technically I think I’m ‘otherwise unspecified’ but, to summarize, think scales and teeth and wings and talons and black eyes.   The fear and regret and panic in your precious Innie’s eyes is hard to miss. The rapid way he’s rattling through the worst as a nervous habit proves his sincerity. You smile softly at him, “I think I need to see for myself.”  “What no. NO. I could- did you not hear me? I could hurt you if I-” he shudders. “If I get free I don’t know-I couldn’t guarantee-I’m not myself.   You shrug and turn back to your phone, “I trust you. I just wanna see.”

  It takes weeks of working on him to get him to agree to let you join him on his formerly labeled “boys night”. It was not without a long list of compromises on your part. You were to only observe through glass of the french doors in his living room. He would wear additional heavy duty cuffs and chains to hold him back in case the first set failed.  “No matter what,” he reminded you as you locked him into the recessed hooks behind his couch, “no matter what you cannot touch me and you cannot leave the next room. Not even to leave the apartment. The apartment door is the last line of defense and if I get out-”  ‘I know. You’ve said a billion times Innie,” you say as you push his hair back. “It’ll be fine. I trust you.   Jeongin shakes his head, holding his tongue. So stupidly confident, he knew no matter what he said he couldn’t shake it from you. Stubborn and confident in the face of the unknown. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he looked over your handiwork. Everything was just the slightest big large, for now and not for long. The faintest shimmer crossed his forearm beneath the cuff. “Leave. Now.”  Tucking back his hair again you can’t help yourself, tilting his chin up to kiss him. “I love you.”  The kiss dries his mouth, he’s so thirsty he could die. His tongue presses to your lips, eagerly licking into your mouth as you grant him permission. You taste so sweet, sweeter than any candy he’s ever tried. Chasing your lips hungrily his teeth snap at you as you pull away. The sudden aggression making you both jump.  “Are you deaf? Leave!” Jeongin’s fingers dig into his knees, veins popping out all over. Grabbing you he tries his best to toss you backwards, chains cutting his throw short. It’s just enough to send you stumbling backwards. A split second of fear shines in your eyes, a split second that he hates himself for. “Leave,” he whimpers, head hung as he hears the click of the door behind you.

  It’s just in time. Jeongin’s arms start itching, he twitches and contorts to try to relieve the nagging flares popping all over his arms and legs. Slowly the iridescent shine stays, black scales tipping his arms and covering his hands. He screams as the bones of his finger morph curling back and up before lengthening into claws. The human part of him that remains is glad he can’t find you, hoping you left fully and locked the door behind you. Pain shoots through his spine, forcing him to curl in on himself. His jaw unhinges, gurgling through the spit pooling in his mouth, teeth turning to fangs as two feathery wings sprout from his back.  Panting and screeching he’s a half formed creature. Part lizard, part bird, part wolf, and still some human left to spare. The doctors told him it would’ve been easier if he had been able to fully transform, that being in limbo is what made him able to remember it all. This partial transformation kept the sliver of human unable to act and conscious of his state. Full shift meant the human portion wouldn’t know, could escape the pain of knowing and being unable to act.  The creature inside was pissed. It was always upset but tonight the cuffs felt particularly tight and heavy. Tugging with all his might the metal left raw impressions in the scales. Teeth snapping into the night air in desperation. He wanted to feed. He wanted more than food.

  You sat in the small what the landlord considered “dining room” just beyond the doors. Hidden in the pitch black dark beyond the doors you followed your boyfriends’ instructions to remain still and calm. Watching the pain and anguish crossing his face, you want to burst through the door. Despite the various ways he could rip you limb from limb or otherwise harm you, he looked sad. Your heart ached as you watched him struggle, magnificent wings beating and folding and flexing to try to assist his fruitless tugs. Beautiful. He was beautiful, an angel even.

 Almost an hour passed of him fighting frantically with his restraints until he wore himself out, scraped and bruised. Pitiful vocalizations were all that was left of his resistance. Feathers covered the floor, some falling from stress and others from effort. He was still beautiful. Hair hanging into his eyes, he was still beautiful. You watch him for hours, staring, though he really didn’t do much more than doze off and tug at the chains. The way the light falls on him is entrancing, dark scales seemingly twinkling at you like he was covered in stardust. Moreover he still looks like your boyfriend, despite the additions. Your heart ached for him, face covered in tear stains. The once loose cuffs looked far too tight.

  The scraping of metal against metal perks his sensitive hearing. The most delicious scent of vanilla and coconut wafts past his nose. His breathing accelerates as the pat of a bare foot hitting the ground echos loudly in the otherwise empty apartment. The door clicks and his head snaps to face the intruder.  Your stomach drops as his black eyes turn to you, grinning. His teeth are sharp and slick with saliva. “Innie, it’s me,” you whisper.   Eat. EAT. Take. TAKEtaketakeeatdevourpossess. His senses go hayware, newly invigorated to tear at his bindings. What a delicious offering. What a snack. If only this body could have her whole-   He snaps and growls in your direction, chains straining and cuffs cutting in. “Innie! Yang Jeongin! I know you’re in there!”  The monster howls, doing one last tug before settling again. Don’t hurt her, you can’t hurt her. I will kill us if you hurt her. She’s not for eating, she’s not an offering. She’s my girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend. The monster huffs, head twitching to his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he gives you a once over.  “I’m going to come closer. I’m-we need to be able to get along.”  He sneers and growls at the thought. This tiny thing is right. No eating. Girlfriend. Fine. No eating. The monster appears to sulk as you draw nearer. What used to be your boyfriend’s body has grown much larger than you originally thought, almost completely covered in a pattern of smooth scales.   “I’m going to touch you, the cuffs look tight. I want to make sure you aren’t hurting yourself.”   Please no please no please no I can’t control it, I’m not- he’s not in my control. The monster gives you a sideways glance but makes no movement as you reach your hand out slowly. The scales vary from slick and soft like a snakes underside to thicker and more protective where callouses used to be. In particular where the cuffs encircle his legs and arms has built up a layer of armor. A small chirp noise eminantes from his chest over a deep rumble.   “Are you purring? Do you purr?” You smile as you continue to stroke the soft side of his body. “Is the big scaly boy purring?”  A small click comes from his throat, head shaking back and forth. Moremoremoremoremore this. Need this. Good. Hunger. Want tiny thing. Everywhere. Yes. Want everywhere. More everywhere. More now. More fast. Moremoremoremore. Practically panting his eyes slide closed into a state of bliss. Suddenly he flinches and pulls from you with a snap.

  Your blood runs cold, teeth inches from your shoulder as you throw yourself backwards to the wall. “Hey! Innie! Be nice!” No leverage to hold over your words, a rush of adrenaline has you giggling. “I know you don’t mean it. I know my Innie won’t let you. I trust him so I trust you.”  Stupid tiny thing. Pretty. Want. Want more. Need. He whines and hangs his head.  “It was my fault, I went too far and you didn’t know how to handle it. Just warn me next time, okay?” You approach him again, speaking in a low soothing tone. He’d been overstimulated, he didn’t know kindness, he acted out of fear not out of a wish you hurt you. You made every excuse in the book. Heart beating wildly you were closer than ever before as he leaned back, shaking his hair from his eyes.  Closer close, yes, close. Do not fucking hurt her, you know what will happen to us if you hurt her. Closetastytinyclosetastytiny. DON’T.  Both of you barely breathe as you stroke his hair, slowly pushing it back so that it doesn’t bother him. You’d politely not looked at his boxers, previously loose now stretched to the max, but it was hard to ignore the twitch at your thigh. His eyes slide closed again and you withdraw your hand, his mouth twisting into a frown. “This time you’ll warn me right?”  He chirps again. Stupid tiny thing more now more.  Instead of returning to his hair you start touching his chest. He’s still human here, morphing into fur on his stomach and then to scale on his thighs. Your hands shake as your fingers caress down to the band of his boxers. The faint rumbling starts again. Long strokes from chest to waist, steady as you feel the muscles below relax. As your fingers ghost over the band he growls. “Not there?” You ask softly, shortening your path.  Claim. Hurt hurt need claim. Tiny human need. Need. Breed. Spawn. Offspring. Yes. Tiny thing carry spawn. “Touch. Hurt.” The words are mumbled and unclear, monster unsure of the shape of the words when spoken.   Your eyebrows shoot up. “Hurt? Where, how can I help? What can I do?”   His head hangs down, staring at the nearly destroyed boxers. “Hurt.”  Thumbs slipping below the waist band you watch his face, his mouth, his claws as you tug downwards. The soft thud of muscle against muscle as, whatever is going on down there, hits his furry lower abdomen. The noise he makes is new to your ears, a pleased trill traveling high to low. Pheromones flood the room, musky and masculine. Your head rings, blinking to clear your vision. “That help?” You don’t dare look down. Whatever it was sounded as monstrous as the being that had changed your boyfriend.  Don’t you dare, don’t you dare let her. You can’t have her. You can’t. You’ll hurt her. The monster huffs.  Eyes glued above his waist you continue to pet him, opting to skim his collarbones and shoulders instead of lower. “How is that my sweet thing? See we can be friends. I can help you. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”   Purring, his head droops again, chin to chest, “more.”  You gulp, heart dropping into your gut. “Oh-okay. If you’re sure.” Holding your breath your eyes flick south. “Fuck, more? More?” Your voice trembles. Innie wasn’t normally anything to shrug at, perfectly average length and just a little bit thicker. This, whatever the monster did to his body, this was the most. Your abs flex, walls of your sex clenching. His dick looked mostly human, deep purple and blue veins ran the thick shaft, all the way up to the head, tapered and an angry red.  “Touch,” he insists. You’ll hurt her. She-I-. Your spawn too. Our spawn. Our brood. We breed. We spawn. He lightly growls as you hesitate.   Shooting a glare at him you scold, “be nice, or I leave.” His claws grab what he can, the lower half of your calves, sharp ends carefully pressed. You weren’t going to leave him. Whining he almost looks sorry. “You manipulative little shit.” Pressing your palm to the base his cock easily passes the length of your fingers. “There’s just no way-”   “Find. More. Moremoremore,” he moans and thrusts against you. The tang of need on his tongue. The chains rattle ominously. “Find. Hurt.”   “Let me just take,” you try to scoot away from him, his claws scratching lightly as he tenses. “I need to take these pants off. To help. If you want me to help--” the grip drops immediately.   Growling and snapping as you leave him he looks more like a feral creature than your beloved. Hair wild and wings stretching to his sides. She won’t leave. She should leave. God damn it, can you just control yourself? Listen to me and we can get through this. You’ll have her, fine, you’ll get to have her. My rules, her rules. You get your fucking claim can you just listen for once? The monster leans back, heels pressing into the floor.  Naked in the moonlight you straddle him, bolder than before as you hear the familiar clicking and rumbling. “I promised. I kept my promise. Now promise, no bite, no scratch, no eat.” Your elbows rest on his shoulders, pressing his hair out of his eyes to stare into him, trying desperately to reach the boy inside the beast.   He growls, burying his head in your chest. You heard her.  Tentatively you wrap your hands around him, needing both to cover his circumference. He’s already sticky with slick. Self lubricating perhaps, or from the steady stream of substance trickling from his slit. You squeeze and pump him as you rub against his scaled thigh. IN looks pleased at least, head back and eyes closed as he purrs. However your arms quickly start hurting, range of motion and girth a challenge to your muscles. Meanwhile you’re practically dripping down his thigh, quickly growing desparate.  Your scent is potent in the air, drool leaking from the sides of his lips. Delicious devour defile deep so deep want need wantwantwantwant candy dumb stupid tiny. Fragile mine mine have need mine. He grunts and whines, arms tugging again at the chains. For some reason despite the closeness, despite the fact that he could easily bite you, you aren’t afraid.  “Normally you’d prep me but,” you smile adoringly at his pleased expression, “I somehow don’t think that’ll happen huh.”   He chirps back, hips bucking enthusiastically upwards as your grip loosens.  You’re glad for the tapered tip as you position him at your entrance. It’ll still be a stretch no double but at least it wasn’t a blunt one. Baring his teeth IN growls, writhing and thrusting up into your wetness. “My speed!” You yelp as the head pops passed your entrance.  Her speed jackass go her speed! Warm, want more. Deeper need, need deep. Tiny thing is small tight warm warm tight need. He pants and groans as you slowly slip down, his hips canting and bouncing, eeking out whatever extra depth he could. Finally you settle, only able to take a little over 3/4th of him, leaving the bulbous, calloused base exposed. You bend forward and wrap your arms around his neck, rocking your hips as you get used to the burning stretch. With your ear to his neck you can better feel his pleased subvocalizations, trilling as your fingers scratch the leathery base of his wings.

  “Good boy. You’re being really good for me,” you mutter as you feel him tense and shudder. “Doing well, going my pace. Feels good. Good right?” Leaning back you grind against his lower abs, letting the coil in your stomach wind back. “Just a little more and then I gotta rest, okay?” Your walls squeeze desperately around him. Your beautiful monster. Dangerous and hungry but yours.  More need moremoremoremoremoremoremore faster go faster deep fast. He grits his teeth and yips, frustrated. His muscles flex, as his arms tug again. Grab, grab tiny. Grab fill breed fill spawn. Mate mine mineminemine. Hungry. Twisting and tugging again a link pops with a bang. Throwing you off balence, falling foward to grab him by the shoulders. Your overstimulated clit spasms, orgasm rolling painfully over you. Your scent floods his nostrils, sweet and musky and a little spicy now. Delicious. No don’t you dare don’t you dare. She’s my girlfriend don’t you dare. He tugs again, the second set of chains popping open. Our tiny. Our.  The curve of his talons perfectly fit over your shoulder as his arms wrap around you. It all happens in the blink of an eye, the chains popping, his arms gathering you between them, the force of his hips driving forward as he locks you in his embrace.  You’re screaming as he forces the rest of himself inside of you, practically roaring as you both fall forward. Hanging off of him he cradles you as he pounds brutally quickly into your cunt. There’s no art or finesse to it, only aim to drive himself as deeply as possible into your womb. Every noise he makes is strange and animalistic, rough tongue licking away at your neck as if he was preparing you for something much more sinister.  You’re moaning, maybe, or choking on air, could be screaming. The blood rushing in your ears clouds your perception of noise. Cumming again on him, drives as deep as he can go, base of his cock growing thicker and locking inside of you. Whiting out from the pressure, your body is limp and vulnerable to the monster.  Bitebitebitebitebitebitebitebite mate bitebitebite. He waits for the other man to speak. Bite? The other man has quieted or left. He bares his teeth, your neck exposed. It would be easy. He huffs, another spurt of release emptying into you, stomach distending slightly.  The monster gathers you, sitting back and draping your form over his chest as he purrs. You shiver, locked to him naked in the cool night air. Two wings wrap around you, cloaking you in what little he can provide. The man will be back in the morning light, the monster is satisfied and so are you.

I was thinking about this one and as I was writing I feel like next year I’ll do fewer prompts but just...all monsters. Like monsterfucker october for kinktober. Assign different traits to all the skz and atz members.

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Closing In

Leon follows reader home...

Note: thank you to anon for suggesting this premise, ohhhh I did not realize how much I would like writing this - and thank you everyone for your patience!

Content: 3.9 k words, 18+, cnc with enthusiastic consent, stalking roleplay, slasher roleplay, home invasion roleplay, denial, rough sex, taunting, humiliation, crying, overstim, sadism/masochism, Slasher!Leon, obsessed Leon, LeonxReader, fem reader, no y/n. 

-

"I dunno, I just think it's kind of romantic," you say. Your hands fiddle nervously with the tassels on your throw pillow.

"He was a stalker, babe." Leon's voice hides just a hint of amusement. "He cut women up."

"Okay, but besides that-"

"Besides the... The serial killing."

"Yes! Besides the serial killing."

Leon stared at you, an eyebrow arched in judgement. You tried to stay straight faced - by God, you tried - but he had a way of half-smirking his way past your mask with his annoying, pretty face.

"Look, I'm just saying," you roll your eyes, not even sure why you keep talking, "something about... Obsessing over someone like that is kiiind of romantic. What's the point of love if it doesn't make you a little crazy? Y'know? Anne Rice would agree with me."

"Anne Rice was horny for a Confederate twink," he points out.

You gawk for a moment. But like, he's kind of right. So instead of saying anything clever, you throw the pillow at him. He deflects it with his forearm, but that gives you the opening to jump on him. You're wrestling in no time, breathless and sweaty and... Moving against each other...

-

You're out for lunch with your friend, Jessie, at some too-fancy Parisian style café. You sip a caramel iced latte and share a plate of rose coloured macarons. She complains about her studies, you complain about work, and you both come to the resounding agreement that deadlines suck. She complains about her last date, some butch that was more well-read than her that accidentally made her feel stupid. You don't have the heart to tell her that they sounded cool as hell. You tip-toe around telling her about Leon. It's not that you weren't proud of him, it was just... With the nature of his job, what were you going to say? Yeah, I'm seeing this guy who has a gun case built into the dresser and is super paranoid about people visiting his place and won't tell me what he does but he's like, totally a sweet guy and not some psycho? Yeah. Okay.

You stretch, appreciating the summer sun on your limbs and the peaceful breeze around your skirt. Your phone rings. Jessie snatches it up before you have a chance to, and then gives you the most scandalous, shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

"No. Don't you dare-!"

"Hiiiii lover boy," she coos over the phone.

Oh fuck, kill me.

"Jessie, give me the phone!" You reach across the table, the ceramic plate between you clattering loudly against the glass table. You freeze, feeling eyes on you. Jessie opens her mouth in mock embarrassment.

"So you're the secret boyfriend that my best friend keeps hiding from me?"

"Jessie, come on."

She listens for a moment, then laughs. You get up from your chair and walk over to her while she tries to twist away from your grasp.

"mhm, mhm - oh, sorry, I think someone wants to talk to y-"

You finally snatch it from her grasp. You give her a stare with the intensity of someone who can kill by staring. You try to keep your voice as flat as possible.

"Hey, sorry about that. What's up?"

"Is that Jessie?" He asks. He's got that... Quirk in his voice. The one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can feel Jessie watching you and try to keep it cool.

"Yeah, sorry, she's like, literally five years old sometimes."

"She seems fun."

"Babe, I'm kinda busy, did you have a reason for-"

"That's a pretty dress you're wearing."

You freeze halfway to sitting back down in your chair. Jessie tilts her head, giving you that concerned-puppy-dog face she did when she knew something was up.

You clear your throat and find it suddenly dry. You sit back down but you're a little clumsy, your skirt getting caught on the arm rests. You snatch it back, and then trying to regain your cool, you take a sip from your iced latte. You hear him chuckle on the other end. Did it get cold all of a sudden?

"What, uh, what do you mean by that?"

You can practically hear him grin into the receiver.

"I mean," he says, drawing out every syllable. "I can see you. And you look pretty today. That skirt will roll up pretty easy-"

You hang up on him. Mostly in panic. There was no way you were going to do that in public! Your eyes scan the area around you. Pretty cafe patio, pretty park across the street, some people going about their daily business. You can't see him anywhere. He must be fucking with you. He must have known you were going to wear a dress, it's so hot out, and where would he even be hiding?

A cold hand touches yours and you almost jump out of your skin. Jessie's taking your hand in hers, and when you meet her gaze, she looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm so sorry if I caused any issues between you, I totally shouldn't have answered it. I didn't think he'd like, get angry with you," she starts to wetly babble, swaying between guilty and protective. You love her very much, but you don't know what to say.

Oh, it's just this weird sex game we play, I promise this brooding dude who you've never met and only spoken to once is definitely a good guy and not like emotionally abusive.

"Hey, hey, Jessie. Don't worry about it. It wasn't about that he's got this... Thing. Unrelated. But uh, look, I have to go."

She frowns, almost curving her pink lip-glossed mouth into a pout.

"If he so much as leaves a scratch on you, I will kill him."

Your thoughts flit to the bite marks and bruises that are just covered by your dress. If only she knew.

You kiss her cheek, snatch up one final macaron, and take your leave. You try to control your pace, look cool, act natural. Your eyes scan the buildings and alleyways around you. You seriously can't find him.

Your phone rings.

You stare at it for a moment. Your hands are shaking a little when you answer it.

"It's sweet how much she cares about you," he says. An idea dawns on you. You nod and give an mhm sound, listening around you for anything noticeable. A church bell rings just ahead of you and you hear it echo over the phone.

"You're close," you say. You try to sound threatening. He just laughs at you.

"Obviously. How else would I know you're wearing that citrus perfume I love?"

"I wear that everyday." Your voice shakes as you speak, and you can't help but whip your head around. You half expect to see him there, but it's just some guy who gives you a dirty look.

"No, you don't. You only wear it when you're going to see friends. You usually wear the vanilla one. You like that it's so subtle."

You're a little impressed he noticed that. It was kind of sweet, really, if he wasn't totally freaking you out. How did he possibly get close enough to smell your perfume without you noticing?  You start walking again. You want to catch the train home. Maybe you can trap him there.

You use the shop windows as you pass to get a better look, pretending to window shop.

"Do you think I'd look good in that," you ask, with no idea what you're referring to. You're looking past whatever is behind the glass to observe the reflection. A spot of blonde hair, maybe... He got a totally different hair cut? No. Not him.

"Using the reflection. Clever."

He hangs up.

You spin around again, desperately searching the crowd. He was a beefy guy and he moved like a panther, there's no way he was just casually blending in. But, you can't find him.

You wrap your arms around your core. Knowing you're being watched makes you want to shrink into yourself. Yet you can't ignore the excitement you feel. It was kind of romantic, really. Kind of dangerous.

You liked Leon best when he was dangerous.

You set off again, somehow walking a knife's edge between nervous and confident. Both prey and prize. You keep looking over your shoulder as you pass into the crowded underground of the subway station. It's right around rush hour and it's so packed you can hardly move. Other people are breathing your oxygen and you're just recycling theirs. It's tight, and hot, and moving at the exact speed that makes you feel like no one is really getting anywhere. You pull your purse tight to your body and try to shove past people, only to be confronted with more people.

Your phone rings. You hang up. And then, in a stroke of brilliance, you call back.

His ringtone echoes out in the tiled halls. You try desperately to find it, but it only rings out twice, then it's lost in the sea of people.

"Clever," his voice is deep on the other end. "I'm almost impressed."

"Yeah. Why don't you stop hiding?"

"Oh, I know you're eager, but I didn't think you'd want me to cut you up in this crowd."

He's impatient. You can tell by the sharpness of his voice that he's more frustrated than he admits. The threat sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but picture yourself bent over on the filthy tile floor, knife to your throat, fucked within an inch of your life as people step past. The ebb and flow of the crowd pushes you towards the oncoming subway.

"What exactly is your plan?" He asks. You can hear the screeching brakes over the phone. "I know you take the 76 Southbound until Queen Street. I know you get off and walk two blocks to George Street. I know you live in a turn of the century brownstone with a heritage plaque and bathroom sink that takes forever to drain."

You step onto the 76 Southbound near the front. You press your back to the wall and watch as people get on.

"Yeah, well," you say victoriously, "I know you have to go the same way."

And then you see him. He walks directly into your trap, and realizes it too late. His blue eyes widen in realization. The door slams shut behind him.

You hang up.

Some people pile up in front of you, giving you cover from him. You watch him from behind shoulders and under arms. Open, navy bomber jacket and a grey t-shirt with black jeans doesn't exactly scream slasher killer. But, something about how casual he looks keeps your attention. He blends in, he's unsuspecting. And, to your surprise, he's grinning like a fox.

He's broad, and when he moves through the crowd, people make room for him. He scans every seat and every face with purpose. Inching his way towards the back. You realize you have nowhere to go. You start to panic. Maybe you get off a stop early? And then what, he beats you to your house and waits for you?

No, you have to get home before he does. Lock the doors before he can get in. You push closer to the door so you can be the first one off. You turn to track his progress and directly meet his gaze.

Fuck.

His expression drops, his eyes glaring at you from under his brow. You're almost hypnotized by them, frozen in place while he cuts through the crowd.

You're pinned down with nowhere to go. But, surely, nothing will happen in public, right?

He pushes past a few more people and then he's on you. He towers above you, his broad shoulders cutting out other's view of you. You notice how his t-shirt clings to his body. How well fitting his jeans are. You also notice the angry squint in his eyes from under his brow.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" He brings a hand down to touch your hip, holding it in his grasp. You quiver against him as he leans down, close enough to whisper in your ear. "Don't you know I’ll always find you?"

You turn your head away from him defiantly. Your eyes scan the train, but passengers nearby don't seem to notice. They all have that vacant long-day- commute stare.

"No one's going to help you, sweetheart." He closes in, one arm rests on the wall beside you, his body angled to ensure prying eyes can't see. His free hand slides up your body. It caresses the curves of your hips, the softness of your tummy, the round of your breast.

You flush. Your hands come up to his chest as if that will stop him from pawing at your tits.

"Leon, seriously? Here?" You whisper it, completely embarrassed.

"I can take you whenever I want." He uses that commanding voice you've only heard a handful of times before. "You're mine."

To prove his point, his hand dips between your thighs, and he presses his fingers against your pussy over the fabric of your skirt. It's so sudden and strong, your hand goes to his wrist on instinct. He doesn't stop, rubbing hard enough to make your legs shake.

"Could probably take you right here," he mutters, his breath hot on your ear. You feel yourself get wet at the thought.

"Queen Street." The robotic, automated subway voice chimes out from overhead.

The door opens. You lose your balance, but manage to recover quickly. You move fast, hoping to put as much distance between yourself and Leon as you can. You take the stairs two at a time until you breach the surface, taking in the fresh air like it would save you. But the summer heat brokers no peace, and you know Leon isn't far behind.

You don't look behind you for fear of slowing down. You take one block normally, then decide to cut through an alley way to save time. Every minute was another he could be gaining on you.

As you take a few paces into the alley, your hair starts to stand on end. It's somehow darker here, the smell of mildew and gasoline making your stomach turn. Your cell phone rings. You answer.

"Stop calling!" You snap, betraying more fear than you mean to.

"An alleyway? You're smarter than this." Leon is unphased by your outburst.

You give in, turning your head to look behind you. He stands at the other end, the sun behind him obscuring his features.

Then he moves. With long, easy strides, he makes ground quickly. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he whistles a slow, off-beat tune. 

You turn and run. Your hand meets the corner at the end of the alley and you use it to redirect your momentum. Full tilt sprinting in a sundress down a public street in the middle of the day probably makes you look crazy. Leon made you look crazy.

You get to your brownstone on George Street. You take the few steps up to the front door. You throw your phone in your purse as you frantically rip through it for your keys.

Fuck, come on, where are they? Lipstick, tampon, water bottle, wallet FUCK! There. You snatch them up like they'll save your life. Your hands shake as you put them in the lock. It turns, and you take one last look to see Leon - oh shit!

He's at the base of the stairs! He takes them by two. You manage to get the door open wide enough to barely squeeze through. His hand slaps against the door but you throw your full weight against it. It slams in his face. He turns the knob. You struggle to hold it against him as you turn the dead bolt. Then the chain. He slams a fist against the door and you slowly back away from it.

A chilling thought dawns on you.

Back door.

You run to the other side of the house, tripping over shoes and a discarded purse as you do, cursing as they steal precious seconds from you. You turn the corner and run directly into the door. Your body stings from the impact. You shakily turn the lock.

Silence. For a few, long minutes, there's just silence. You wonder, disappointed, if he gave up, but take the time to catch your breath.

Your cell phone rings. Sweat rolls down your back as you answer it.

"I got you, motherfucker."

"Did you?" He asks. His voice is cool. Calm. "How confident are you that you got to the back door before I did?"

"I would have heard you come in." You aren't so sure.

"Would you?"

Your apartment is small. You approach the bedroom, then quickly snap the door open. It lies still. Empty.

"You don't scare me," you lie.

"I really almost had you there, didn't I?" He's calling your bluff as you move into the kitchen, "What do you think I would have done if I'd caught up to you?"

The kitchen is still and quiet too. You don't have an answer for him, anxiety knotting in your stomach. You take the turn into the living room.

His arms wraps around your waist with enough strength to lift you off the ground. You scream. You kick at him, but he doesn't budge, dragging you into the living room.

You see a window open.

"Did you climb the fucking trellis?" You ask, shocked and amused at the sight. He tries not to laugh.

"Yeah."

"What are you, Romeo?"

"You said you wanted romance," and then, his voice drops again to that cold, serious tone that makes you feel like prey, "isn't this what you wanted?"

He lets you go and you take the opportunity to run. But his hand is entangled in your hair, the sharp pain making you cry out. Tears gather in your eyes and you whimper. You grab his forearm and try to pull away, but the self-inflicted pain makes you freeze. He rolls his eyes.

"You're just so fucking predictable."

He drags you across the living room floor. It hurts, bare knees roughly hitting the hard wood floor. He lifts you up with an arm around your stomach. Then, he's bending you over the couch.

You try to push back against it. You struggle against him. He pulls your head back by the hair and you nearly sob.

"Please, don't," you whimper. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Not our safe word, sweetheart."

His words make you feel so beautifully helpless. The tears finally fall down your cheeks and, at the same time, you become aware of how soaked your cotton underwear is. His hand comes up and slaps you sharply. You whimper. He does it again, this time harder. The stinging in the side of your face is enough to make your pussy clench around nothing.

He pins you to the side of the couch his hands on your hips. He rolls your skirt up, and makes a choked sound at the sight of you. He tears your underwear down harshly. 

"Please, don't," he mocks with a harsh slap on your ass. "Try and tell me you don't want this."

A finger slides along your slick, from hole to clit. He presses his finger against it just slightly but it's enough to make your hips buck. He gently rolls a finger around your clit a few times, already building that high in the pit of your stomach. He barely fucking touched you and you're already desperate to cum, breath ragged, legs shaking. Leon pulls away. You whimper in disappointment. Then his hand comes down hard against your ass cheek. Then again. Then again. Then again.

The pain is overwhelming. But god, you don't want him to stop. You want hand-shaped bruises on your ass, you want to remember this every time you sit down for the next week.

"You look so pretty for me when you cry" His hand still wet from your cunt comes up and rubs your tears away, leaving an obscene mix of your tears and your desperation for him on your cheeks. The tears keep falling anyways. Then, softly, "you do remember our safe word, right?"

You nod, but you don't say it. You want to go further. You want him to hurt you more. 

“Hey, answer me when I’m fucking talking to you,” he grabs you roughly by the jaw, wrenching your face to look at him. 

“Yes,” you nod, desperately. “I remember.” 

“Wasn’t so fucking hard,” he says. He slaps you again, hard enough to stun you into a stupid, teary-eyed grin.

You hear his pants unbutton, then unzip, then fall to the ground, but you're so overwhelmed you can't move. His hand still in your hair, still tugging enough to remind you of your place beneath him, he lines his hips up with yours.

Then he's pushing into you. One, smooth motion is all it takes, your cunt greedily pulling him in. A high pitched moan escapes his throat, followed by a groaned "so fucking wet."

He fucks you deep and slow. Torturously slow, enjoying every minute of pleasure that he gets. The head of his cock presses against your g-spot, building the high like one boils water. Slowly. Your abdomen pressed against the couch makes it easier for him. The hour of teasing and adrenaline and painful foreplay has you overstimulated. But it’s really the slow, deep fucking that drives electricity through your body. Push and pull, ebb and flow, your face and ass stinging as he works. You’re already bordering on the edge, but his pace doesn’t allow you to go over. You just hover there. And hover there. And hover there. For what feels like hours you’re kept right on the edge without ever going over, building the tension inside you until it fucking hurts, and then you’re crying again. You want him to slam his hips into you, to fuck you into the couch, to do something to make you cum, but he doesn’t.

“Leon, it hurts,” you whine. 

“It’s supposed to.” 

“Please,” you beg, desperation making your voice hoarse. “Please just make me cum, please.” 

“Relax.” 

“Leon-” 

“I said relax. Or I’ll stop right now. Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” you shake your head, hair falling into your face. 

He takes his time to smooth it back, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. He wipes more tears from your cheeks. When he speaks, though, his voice is so hard and cold. 

“Greedy little whore.” 

With no warning, he’s fucking into you harder. Faster. It only takes a few thrusts before you’re cumming on his cock. Your body tenses so hard your muscles scream, shaking and moaning and gasping for air. Your cunt tightens so hard you hear Leon breathe a fuck, baby. It feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally come down, you’re entirely dazed. 

You’re... vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, hot and sticky. But for the most part you just feel like you’re floating. Leon slowly lowers you to the floor, grabbing a throw pillow and tucking it under your head. You close your eyes. 

You wake again when the room is an orange glow, a blanket thrown over you for comfort. Leon is lounging on the couch reading a book, and when you stir, you immediately have his attention. 

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily. 

“Hey. Thought I’d let you sleep, you looked like you needed it. Why don’t I run us a shower?” 

“Yeah,” you smile softly, dreamy fuzziness still clinging to you. “I’d like that.” 

[soaps-mohawk]

that soapprice reblog omg... it literally inspired me to send an ask bc i was thinking about it and then saw it as a sign

this is random but what do you think are big things that the boys are into? even though it's super common i'm a total sucker for price being called daddy, and i remember the joke he made about it earlier in the series and i was 🤭🤭 the whole time, or also as mentioned in the fic i'm a big fan of soap and his hair being pulled

urgh soapprice soapprice soapprice!!! they're such an underrated pairing, and they're literally my favourite characters ☹️ (and graves but we don't talk about that)

anyways pook, how are you?? i hope all is well!!

- 🪐

Soapprice is such an underrated pairing. I feel like it was more popular in the fandom whith the OGs, but it definitely has been neglected with the reboots. They're all just so special to me though 🥺

Hmm are we talking like kinks here? That's what I'm going with.

I think Price does enjoy being called daddy, though I don't see him as being the type to ask you to say it. He's into it, but he wants you to say it first on your own. He's definitely more dominant, but I could see him giving over control every so often. Like if a mission goes wrong or something happens he doesn't want to be in control anymore for a while. I could also see him being into bondage/shibari. He likes the trust you have to have in each other and he also just likes seeing you tied up. Definitely a brat tamer. He'll bend you over his knee and spank you if you misbehave. Edges you if you're especially naughty.

Johnny likes having his hair pulled, that's a given. Please degrade him. Step on him, call him a naughty boy. He also has a huge praise kink. Giving, receiving, he loves it. He's definitely the most likely to experiment. You want to try something? He's down. He's not about to be out-kinked because that man is super competitive. He's definitely into role play. Dressing up, acting out scenes. All of it. He's definitely made you play hostage so he can "rescue" you and then get thanked for saving you 😉 I could also see him being an exhibitionist. If his partner is okay with it, he'll definitely let people watch him blow their back out. His neighbors hate him lol.

Kyle, my sweet baby boy Kyle. We all know he's a munch. Sit on his face and let him eat your pussy until you can't hold yourself up. He'll just lay you on your back and continue. Will wake you up with his head between your legs if you give him permission. Gets off by giving you pleasure. He also likely has a praise kink. Tell him how pretty he is and he'll be putty in your hands. He'll blindfold you and edge you. He loves the way your legs shake and you beg for release. He'd probably be into overstimulation, for both of you as well. Please, for the love of all things holy peg him. Will also bend you over his knee and spank you if you ask him. I feel like he'd be willing to try more extreme things if you want to, but I don't think he'd be quite as enthusiastic about it as Johnny. Aftercare king. That's self explanatory.

Simon, contrary to popular belief, I don't see being much into kinks. I think it takes so long for him to get to the point just to be naked with you, the last thing he'd want is to take any risks. He causes enough pain in his day to day life that he just wants to fall into your arms and be held. Is cuddling a kink? If so then that's his kink lol. He might get rough with you in bed if you ask him, once that trust has been established, but you're definitely going to have to reassure him for hours after that you're alright. I think if you're together with him long enough, and that trust has been well established, you might be able to convince him to try some softer things, but he's definitely checking in and making sure you're alright and you're comfortable constantly. Consent is his kink is the energy he gives off.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Who vibes for Vibranium?

AN: Have a little short and sweet, sort of cracky Stucky sexual shenanigans story. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @metalbvcky but all errors are my fault.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List

Summary: Steve likes to be indulged. It's a good thing Bucky likes to indulge him. Even if he's a thieving little big brat sometimes.

Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

WC: <1k

CW: AU: Not Canon Compliant, teasing, suggestive dialogue, Super-Soldier sexy shenanigans, discussion of impact play, discussion of bondage, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Soft Top Bucky Barnes, Bratty Bottom Steve Rogers, Fade to Black.

Bingo Fills and Challenges:

@stuckybingo I4 - Vibranium

“Come on, Buck. It’ll be fun.” Bucky pulled a face at Steve’s wheedling tone. He wasn’t convinced.

“Fun? Just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”

Steve sidled up to him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist, looking into his eyes and doing his best Little Shit ™ pout. “Don’t you miss being able to hold me down. Like really stop me from moving.” Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck and Bucky let out a huff. 

“I miss it,” Steve continued, letting his teeth scrape over Bucky’s throat. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to think of the Presidents of the United States. “I miss feeling all helpless under you.” Steve’s fingers slipped up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and started to draw light patterns over his skin, making him shiver. “One vibranium arm can only do so much and I can’t work out a way for you to use my shield to help.”

“Steve,” Bucky cautioned. “This isn’t really a conversation about informed consent if you’re trying to get my dick to make the decision and not my brain. It’s cheating.”

Steve raised his head with a grin. “Is it working though?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing he’d already lost the fight. “You’re such a punk, you know that?”

“But I’m your punk, and you love me.”

“Unfortunately so,” Bucky agreed. “Now, if you wanna do this, first you gotta hand ‘em over.”

Steve let go of him and practically skipped across their apartment. How a 6”2’ supersoldier could move like that Bucky didn’t know, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t stimulating to watch. It was also kinda cute, the way that Steve was getting giddy at the thought of doing something ‘kinky’. 

As two queer guys who’d grown up in the 30’s, neither were strangers to things that were nowadays termed as kinky, but no matter how long they’d been together, and how many different things they’d done, Steve was always enthusiastic, as though it was his first time, every time. 

When Steve returned from his little sojourn into his study, he was practically vibrating - ha! - with energy and he passed over his new toy with a grin.

“Do I even wanna know where you got these from?” Bucky asked. Of course this was the question that made Steve look a little embarrassed. His neck flushed pink and his left hand came up to brush over the hair at the back of his head. 

“I - uh - may have found them in the cache of recovered HYDRA hardware that Fury keeps in the upstate warehouse.”

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky let out, teasingly. “Are you telling me that you - the great and righteous Captain America - stole these Vibranium handcuffs?”

Steve startled “No! Not stole. Just - umm - borrowed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve had the good grace to look slightly cowed. “I mean - we might give them back?”

“If they help me beat your ass without struggling to keep you still they are definitely not going back,” Bucky retorted, failing to get the right tone of authority into his voice.

“You promise?” Steve asked slyly and Bucky shook his head in mild disbelief at his bratty boyfriend.

“The fucking audacity,” he said to no-one in particular, and then “Get in that bedroom, Rogers and strip. You’re getting ten for your cheek, and if you aren’t ready when I get in there, then it’s an extra ten.” 

“Oh no,” cried Steve with faux despair. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Nothing, if these work.” Bucky took a step closer, drawing himself up to his full height, despite that being two inches less than Steve’s. It had the desired effect though - science might have taken Steve out of his little body, but it hadn’t taken the memory of being in that little body out of Steve. Steve shrank down, now reacting to Bucky’s domineering aura. “You’ll do nothing except cry those sweet tears as I turn your ass red because you won’t be able to get away from me. You won’t be able to stop me. Now - do I have to tell you again? Get in there and strip.”

Steve turned, scurrying into the bedroom as fast as he could with his cock doing its best impression of a flagpole between his legs. 

Smiling to himself, Bucky looked at the cuffs, inspecting them and working out how they opened and closed. The last thing he wanted was for them to get stuck, even if the thought  of Stark being mentally scarred for life having to come and help remove them was amusing as hell.

“Time to see if these work,” he muttered to himself, before calling out “Ready or not, here I come.”

Over an hour later

“Yup,” Bucky said with a smile as he stretched out. “Those definitely work.”

Steve groaned and buried his head into Bucky’s side, while lying on his stomach. “My ass is on fire,” he complained.

Bucky sniggered. “Quit your whining, you big baby. You only have yourself to blame. And you’ll be all healed up in an hour. Two, tops.”

As Steve huffed against him and threw an arm across his stomach, Bucky picked up the cuffs from where he’d deposited them after removing them from Steve’s wrists. He turned them over in his hands, pondering.

“I wonder,” he said, “if we got a metal footboard whether these would magnetise strongly enough to it that I could use them to keep your legs apart…”

Steve let out a moan that wasn’t entirely one of despair. “Buck, let me recover before you start trying to turn me on again.”

With a smile still on his lips, Bucky leant over and places a kiss to the top of Steve’s sweaty head.

“Love you, punk.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

[dainesanddaffodils]

okay so I think I have maybe like 2 mutuals who are ffxiv enthusiasts, but I gotta yell into the void about my warrior of light and the fact that, in true oc fashion, she went and did her own thing without my consent and now I gotta deal with all the feelings it is giving me

so, my partner finished endwalker last year and Had Many Emotions about it and afterword I said, sure, put me in Character Creation For Fun I Won't Do Anything About It

but then I made a cute little Au Ra and named her Cimorene to reference my fav childhood book series and I was like, oh no I love her I guess I'll have to put her through The Trauma that is this whole game

(I know there is much trauma, again, because I witnessed my partner finishing endwalker and she also would tell me things about what was going on, vague enough - and long ago enough - that I'm not like SUPER spoiled on what I have ahead of me, but like, enough that I know shit is Sad)

but ANYWAY I was still pretty casual about this because, friends, I am not a Gamer. The last game I played, that wasn't a Mariokart/Mario Party/Smash that I've played at a friend's house, was like... on my family game cube 15+ years ago. I want to be a gamer but my brain can't find time for it... until now

so I'm casually trucking along through a realm reborn doin my little white mage quests and meeting the characters my partner has cried about, especially this one guy called thancred - of whom I had heard quite a lot about and my brain had already decided, I want that one.

(he's voiced by Taliesin Jaffe at first, he's a pretty white haired anime boy with trauma, he's got horrible coping mechanisms, what was I supposed to do? to quote Richard Gansey, "Crushed and Broken, just the way women like 'em")

so that was like in the back of my mind because obviously my little baby wol has to go through a lot and he has to go through a lot (most of which I am well aware of) before that's going to take off and even then I already imagine it's going to be a sort of background tension they refuse to actually speak on but both just Know for like, ever (yes my favorite ship is Roy and Riza from FMA why do you ask)

but then I'm like a little over halfway through this first installment and a bunch of awful things happen to my baby for the first time and I'm kinda invested in how she's having a kind of terrible time and the first group of people she'd felt some kind of belonging with are in danger and she feels lost and helpless -

and my partner is sitting next to me watching me play and starts getting excited about the fact that I'm close to meeting another character

that character is haurchefant

and I had never heard them talk about him before so I didn't really know who he was, but he's the first person to be genuinely kind to my warrior after several very bad days. they're in a fortress in an eternal winter and he's still the warmest person she's met in a very long time...

and I thought, oh that's so nice I'm glad she got someone in her corner now after all that shit, anyway moving on

but then, like for the following few days I kept. thinking about it. about how much that would have meant to her, about how lonely she had been feeling before meeting him and how, now that she's found that, she kind of just, wants to be around him

and it hit me that, without my own consent on it, Cimorene had said, I want that one.

so now I have to deal with my baby's first love (which, judging by my partner and her friends reactions when I told all of this to them, is going to be a fucking tragic first love) when I hadn't expected to deal with that at all and now I'm like really really invested in this dumb game

(this got way longer than expected, I just had to Yell. also this is probably a precursor for things to come. I may be reblogging Final Fantasies up in here before long)

[mostremote]

It wasn't something i planned with WWC but one of the emerging themes is the uselessness of open communication and carefully negotiated boundaries and 'ongoing enthusiastic consent', if the foundation it's built on is too fucked up. These are all nebulously 'good' things but I'm fascinated by how you can talk yourself into something dreadful and damaging by deluding yourself into thinking it's okay with enough of a positive attitude. This is also sort of the premise of my never-to-be-finished therapy fic (where Snow forces her to marry him then takes her to couples' therapy to fix all the mental health issues he's given her). idk why it's just super compelling to me

[foodsies4me]

I'm FASCINATED by the implications of 'that one ABO fic I don't want to write'

Alright so first on how the wip got its title! (Altough, I have since changed it to 'that omega fic I don't wan't to write' because I saw that one post where apparently without the slashes that word is a slur which is something I keep forgetting as in my native language that word means subscription or pass. Languages, so messy and yet so fun.

But, first and foremost! Why is it titled that way? Well, it's simple I am not a fan of omega-fics. No judgment at all to people who like them, they're just not my personal taste. Same goes with M or E-rated fics, again not something I usually read, even less something I write. I especially am not a fan of dubcon fics, even if said dubcon would have been enthusiastic consent if everyone would have been in their right state of mind.

This fic has all of this. (Or at least is veering in that direction)

It's a bunny that sprouted out of nowhere and it just won't shut up. I hoped writing everything down into a file would make me stop thinking about it. And, lo and behold, it didn't. Shocker! So yeah, I don't actively work on it, but I still find myself writing down scenes when the plot-bunny gets too insistent. Don't know if I'll ever post it, though, because it's so different from everything else I write.

Now, for the premiss: The fic isn't particularly anything super interesting worldbuilding-wise, but the Clave being the Clave, looks down on Omega's. Maryse being Maryse gave her infant Omega son (Alec's soul mark gave that one away) a potion meant to change him into a Beta and suppress his soul bond. She received this potion from Iris Rouse, who agreed to brew it in return for her freedom as she had been a captive from the Circle/Clave back then.

However, Maryse didn't know that Rouse only gave her a potion that would suppress Alec's heats and him presenting as an Omega, not change him into a Beta. On top of that, the magic inside of it is comparable to a dam aka the suppressed heats have been building up without Alec knowing, and all she has to do is hit him with the antidote and Alec will be hit with 5 years' worth of heats that will be sure to incapacitate him because while an Omega might not lose their mind during a heat in the slightest, having 5 year's worth of it hit you like a freight train at once, is bound to do so.

Of course, this is what ends up happening, ending Alec's sadness about Magnus being the love of his life, but he not being his because he's not his soulmate (surprise, surprise, he is!) But not before some things go really sideways and Magnus nearly levels the whole of New York in his fury.

So yeah, this is a brief summary about the fic and why it's one of the two fics that I am more or less writing despite my not wanting to write them. Yes, both fics know they're not well-loved. No, it doesn't stop them from being insistent, which just makes them even less loved.😑

I may have ended up rambling too much, oops

[eri-pl]

I would love to hear some of your orcish Maeglin headcanons! I think it's such a neat idea! (Thanks my friend who gave it to me!)

If I may ask, there's a few things in particular that I am super curious about! Does it affect his appearance at all? How does he first react when he learns? If his family learned of it, how would they respond? (Particularly Aredhel!)

Thank you for asking! People never asked me things before.

Long post below cut.

OK, so first, I think we have a different definition of hc. For you it seems to be a complex thing, like a mini-au (not necessasarily alternate). For me hc is just a fact I assume, or sometimes like to assume, or at least like to entertain at the moment.

So when I say "with this origin of orcs (link for people not knowing the context), I would probably hc Maeglin as semi-orc", I mean just this fact, not that I have an explosion of details in my brain. (I think semi-orc is a better name than part-orc when we're talking more about "orcs spontaneously reverting into elves through some generations" thing).

Anyway, I love to see how enthusiastic you are about things, and I like being asked, so let's make something up.

With appearance it depends on how you imagine orcs in general. I would say they are more animalistic and much less symmetrical than Elves, and get scars easily. Elves heal neatly (except in dractic circumstances, like Angband), because of the fea-hroa harmony.

Orcs have less of this harmony than humans, that's how they're made, by messing up their bodies and if the soul gives up, but instead of going away just accepts the situation and is like "well, that's bad, but it's fine I guess" we get an orc. Something like that. Something like in one text in Morgoth's Ring? Manwe talks about accepting evil and building upon it, as not necessarily evil in itself, but a source of problems (the context is of course Finwe's remarriage).

But we're talking an Elf here, so after some generations the bodies are born normal enough to be immortal. So it's more a Maedhros level of messed up than Orc level of messed up.

So how would he look?

Obviously, paler skin and bigger pupils, because this fits the physical traits. I would say, a less symmetric face. Not visible at first sight, still more symmetrical than average human, byt when he smiles, the smile goes a bit sideways. Maybe that's why he doesn't smile in front of others.

Also, in some depictions orcs have thicker, fur-like hair, so, especially if we imagine elven hair as very fine, Maeglin's would be more stiff.

(Also, no big flapping ears. Elven ears are human-sized, maybe a bit more sharp on the top but that's it. That is canon. IDK why but giving Tolkien Elves huge ears angers me more than it should. <3 and respect to everyone who draws the like this, but it gets on my nerves.)

I would assume he learned about his ancestry when being interrogated about the location of Gondolin, so it was ...difficult.

Disbelief, but Maeglin had always known that something was off about him, he'd always felt that his father is hiding something. (Mother too? I'm not sure if she knew.) Basically, it's the mix of emotional reactions which Luke has on Vader being his dad. But with more guilt mixed in, and shame. Maeglin very much feels like a toxic shame guy to me. He would do everything to keep it secret, especially from Idril. And to not be turned into a full orc (which I assume is impossible w/o consent, but the consent may be persuaded with long torture, so...)

Later, after returning to Gondolin, he would spiral into toxic shame, self-hatered, jealous of others who have a normal background and were not threatened like this, etc etc.

Family... well, Eol knew, obviously. It came from his side of family. His mother or father, I would assume, or (if we ignore the "kin of Thingol" note), Eol was of purely orkish ancestry, it just mosly reverted.

Eol... didn't assume orkish ancestry is something you should mention to your future spouse before marriage. He teased Maeglin, always suggested that there was something they shared that was unique and the Noldor would not accept it, but never told him anything concrete.

Aredhel...? she would be worried. Not in a "will my son turn evil?" way, more in a "will my son be healthy?" way and she would be like "now I see why he is like that". Imagine getting a mental health diagnosis for your child, and that's it (well, ok, orkish background has also physical components, not only mental, but I think in terms of how the parent feels it's close). Along with the "How do I treat him now? I should act normal, but also, he has special needs probably..." part.

She would generally be loving but a little lost. She would be angry at Eol for not telling her, but also very much wanting to show Maeglin that she doesn't love him less because he's like this.

She would probably tell the rest of the family, Aredhel doesn't seem to secretive to me. And she'd expect help. Turgon... I know a little of him, I guess he'd be fine with it? I mean, Maeglin is not an orc, just has some traits... And he's a good warrior...

Idril may, paradoxically, feel more comfortable with Maeglin after that (as long as he isn't flirting with her, because unrequited flirting is always uncomfortable). Now she knows what is off with him, she doesn't have to worry that much. She would overcompensate a bit, try to show him "I like you, the reason I don't romantically love you isn't because you have orkish ancestry, it's just because I don't", this would be a little awkward and Maeglin would read it as pity and probably hate it.

Celegorm would suggest banishing Maeglin, if not outright killing him. He spent a lot of time with Orome and is very strict about orcs. (Also, he is kind of a jerk). Curufin wouldn't care, Maeglin is good at crafts, and reasonable and polite, and this matters.

Of course, a lot depends on how and from whom they would learn. This is assuming Aredhel would be alive and she would tell them. I f they learned, let's say, from an anonymous letter, it would be a very different story (Turgon doesn't believe anonymous letters, Celegorm wants to find a way to check it, Curufin agrees it's worth checking, Celegorm is contemplating murdering Maeglin)

[absolutehomosexuals]

https://www.tumblr.com/absolutehomosexuals/752107005887610881/its-really-funny-to-me-that-youll-have-countless

This is so, so true!! It's always been insane to me how many Astarion girlies will immediately take him to the brothel after defeating Cazador so he can have an orgy and retraumatize himself. I swear it's like a rite of passage for them…and then they act like "yeah he dissociated but he was excited to do it! It's all fine anyways, it's part of his healing journey!" The ones who coerce Gale to do the orgy are probably worse, by the way!

And to make things better, yeah they go ahead and put him into a poly relationship he also never asks for. I don't care if the devs want us to believe he's genuine about it and enthusiastically consents, it's still super badly written & when you analyze it you can see how nonsensical it actually is. You have to reassure him about his insecurities and he's then excited to give his consent, they say. Yeah well you can even pick the worst option, say you're frustrated about him not fucking you for a while and he's still fine with it! Now what?? 10/10 writing! Whoever wrote this at Larian clearly wasn't giving their best that day lmao, how is this healthy poly representation? But horny fans will defend it no matter what as long as they get the chance to have more sex in the game.

Like, maybe they should just admit they do it because they want their self-insert Tav to fuck both hot guys and get away with it and stop pretending Astarion wants or needs it or because he has anything to gain out of having his first actual relationship, that he can remember of, opened up so soon. "Isn't this hot??!! I now have two boyfriends!!!!" No, it's not. You're just gross! Eww.

We're lucky this is a video game at least because who in their right mind thinks it's a good and sane idea to drag their their (real life) partner, who recently got out of sexual slavery, into brothels to have orgies? And opens up the relationship? What could go wrong?

Hi anon! You're so right btw.

The fundamental issue with these people is that they do not understand s*xual trauma: dissociating during sex is not supposed to be part of your healing journey.

Dissociation is a defense mechanism your brain puts up to protect your psyche from something hurtful or extremely traumatic: sometimes the abused person's brain can "mistake" a harmless event for something to shield itself from, but that argument can be made for regular sex with a stable partner, not a goddamn fo*rsome in a br*thel with a bunch of strangers.

And OF COURSE the devs want these people to think he consented, and will write every bullshit excuse under the sun in their dev notes! It's part of their marketing scheme/fanservice after all.

Honestly we don't understand why these people don't just admit this is their fantasy/k*nk and stop trying to justify it as something that fits Astarion's storyline, because it clearly doesn't.

I hope anyone who regularly plays this kind of route never, ever, dates someone with s*xual trauma because they come off as disrespectful and dangerous for their healing journey.

And before anyone comes for me (- mod orinthara), saying I'm judgemental and "k*nk shaming", I invite you to be quiet because you can't possibly know someone's experiences and what lead them to form this type of opinion. Be respectful.

[skaruresonic]

I heard people have explained to you Hector's deal in the show :)

This is my most hated part of it. Not only because Hector in his game is my favorite character, but because even on his own terms, the one in the show is treated in such a vile way, and I see nothing but terrible takes on it that make me think "y'all wouldn't be so horny over this if he was a woman".

So, to summarize his plotline in Season 3. After being manipulated into betraying his master, getting the shit beaten out of him in graphic detail, and dragged through the snow barefoot for a month, the dude is thrown into a jail because he needs to work for the OC #girlboss villains. The idea is to send a diplomat to manipulate him again into trusting them.

The first thing that happens between them is that Hector threatens to kill Lenore, and Lenore beats the shit out of him: you've seen this scene. You can also see how Hector is framed as being a weak idiot for underestimating the cute vampire, because she's actually super stronk and badass. In-universe, this logically means that Hector learns quickly that she could torture him at any time. (also yes it's a repeat of his beating in S2, at the hands of another vampire)

Then Lenore, between one manipulation and the other (she basically says "yeah you're in a cell but it's better than serving Dracula, right?") starts to treat him like a dog, putting him on a leash, calling him "good boy" and taking him on "walkies <3". This is presented in an erotic way, even though Hector isn't very enthusiastic about being dehumanized.

And by the finale, Lenore says something on the effect of "I can't betray my sisters, but I like you and we could run away together". Somehow, Hector doesn't notice the blatant contraddiction, and when Lenore kisses him, he reciprocates and the two have sex. This is for the sole purpose of coaxing him into pledging loyalty to Lenore, and slipping that cursed ring that would bind him and his creatures to the #girlboss vampires. Next scene, Lenore is bragging to her sisters that she wants to train Hector because he's good at fucking.

Side note, the fact that Hector "consented" to sex is used as proof that he wasn't raped. Even though Lenore could have beaten him to death at any moment, even though he spent more than a month in dehumanizing conditions, even though he get frequently described as being "a child in a man's body" who only craves love. but yeah he didn't say no so that's okay.

And none of this matters in Season 4, because Lenore has become a whining brat making dick jokes around Hector when he works, and the story tries to draw parallels between them to show that oh, they Understand each other deep down, and also Hector protects her from another character who is rampaging through the castle, and chooses to stay with her.

Fun fact, at one point she complains that Hector was "the last problem she had to solve", Hector sarcastically thanks her for the ring, she responds with "oh shush you were having fun", and he replies with "until the end". She might as well have said "shut up you were hard what are you complaining about?" and he agreed. Literal female-on-rape apologism in my Castlevania show.

Lenore then steps into the sun because she refuses to live in a cage and she says "I'm sorry for everything you went through" to Hector, the most bastard of non-apologies of all time. And that's it. This is how Hector/Lenore became one of the most popular ships in the franchise, full of people who cry that they deserved a happy ending together, swear that Lenore did nothing wrong and really she treated Hector well, or are simply horny for the cute girl domming the simp boy.

The fact that Warren Ellis was accused of being a sex pest makes the rape fetishism just a little more uncomfortable :)

Needless to say that the games are far less sexualized. Worthy of note is that in Symphony of the Night, Alucard gets tormented by a succubus, but not by giving him erotic vision: by making him relive the day that his mom died. Just saying.

We can talk about respect for the games all we want. We can talk about the poor pacing, the forced swearing and rude jokes, the twisting of characters. But this? This is indefensible to me. I will never, ever shut up about how this acclaimed show has rape apologism in it, and people defend it because it's from a woman against a man - because the story frames it as something hot and that the man deserved for being "evil" (he wanted to turn humanity into livestock for vampires because he was severely abused by humans, and that means he deserved being enslaved to show him what his plan would have entailed. Real argument I've seen. That and "Hector loved in a possessive way like a vampire, so he understood that Lenore enslaved him out of fondness". I can link to you the post if you don't believe me)

Yeah, all of this has been A Lot to unpack. I started reading the Many of Us website after learning of Warren Ellis'… indiscretions… and I really feel like it's colored my understanding of the show, and I wasn't that hot on the show to begin with. I can't imagine how it would feel to be a fan of the games and have them be adapted by this immature hack piece of shit.

Cross-referencing clips of Hector's behavior in Curse of Darkness and Hector's behavior in the show, the disparity was such that I asked Spinning and Woodchipp, "Why is this show so sex-brained?" Some sexualization is to be expected in vampire fiction, but to this degree? Why does goofy St. Germain have to say "God is going to have sex again?" bruh this is "I'm 14 and this is deep" levels of writing. How could anybody take it seriously?

And it's weird too because everywhere I looked on Reddit, people were praising Ellis' comic writing genius. In all honesty, though, he seems like a huge edgelord. The standard for comics writing tends to be rather low, where more often than not gritty shock-value writing tends to be conflated with good writing, so I don't exactly trust that he's this ~hon-hon oh so geniuese~ fauxteur everyone's portraying him as. Especially if THIS is any indication of how he usually writes.

On the subject of Hector's assault… (tw for discussions of assault and rape) I'll be honest, when Spinning and Woodchipp described the ways people have tried to downplay it, a shudder went through me. I refuse to believe there are people in this world who would defend such a thing, much less try to normalize it.

I apologize for mentioning this, but I think it's worth bringing up because this is what the scene reminded me of. When a man wears a condom during sex but takes it off without his partner's permission or knowledge, it is rape by deception.

It's a fitting parallel because Leonore slipped the ring on Hector's finger without his knowledge or consent. It doesn't matter if he'd consented to the sex before then, he didn't consent to wearing the ring. Consent is an ongoing process, not a "well, you consented to ride the roller coaster, now you can't get off" sort of thing. Just because you consent to sex in the moment doesn't mean you consent to everything that happens after it starts.

And since the ring represents further suppression of his free will, it reinforces the notion that his consent is an afterthought at best, second to Leonore's enjoyment. This isn't even getting into the fact that being imprisoned and tortured in the first place means he was inherently set up to suffer a breakdown of free will.

Furthermore, rape is not about sex, it's about power. It's about denying a person their bodily agency. Ask yourself, would Leonore have had to slip the ring onto his finger if she hadn't chained him and beaten him down first?

I have no idea how the scene could be read as anything other than rape. It's rape. I'm sorry. It just is. There's nothing Leonore can say or do after the fact that will render it not-rape because rape is not something that can be edited in post, assholes. To claim otherwise is rape apologia. "You liked it afterwards" is not an excuse, nor is "you didn't say no."

…and then, as if that weren't bad enough, Spinning said another major character got raped by OCs. That, to me, is a big red flag that the creators held an active disdain towards the source material. Because nowadays writing advice urges you, if you can avoid rape-as-backstory, if you can find a more suitable motivation, you ought to do it. The alternative is hurting the rape survivors in your audience with a blasé portrayal of their trauma, or worse, a fetishization of it.

Why is it that writers who are least equipped to handle rape as a subject matter tend to sprinkle it as some sort of Spicy Garnish in their writing? Like you said, CV doesn't really focus that much on sex or rape in the first place. It's almost as though by making the games characters say "fuck" and suffer rape (with little actual repercussions, 'cause God forbid we have Consequences), the creators childishly believed they could make their writing seem much more Dark and Mature than it actually is.

And then people have the gall to defend it. It's so fucking gross, dude.

because the story frames it as something hot and that the man deserved for being "evil"

I actually ranted at length about how disgusting this mindset is and I'm shocked it still appears in the year of our Lord 2023. Rape is not a punishment. Nobody deserves rape. No, not even the worst person you can think of. If you consider rape a punishment someone can earn by behaving badly enough, like seriously, get the fuck away from me lol.

That and "Hector loved in a possessive way like a vampire, so he understood that Lenore enslaved him out of fondness."

[bakurasilver]

hello I am so curious about all of the WIPs but I'd love to hear more about Wout and About - being bratty on the bus <3

Sooooo way back when I was the world's most devoted shipper of Julian Alaphilippe/Tim Declercq (which I still am, even though they're on different teams now. There are like ten or so pictures of them where neither of them Julian is making a face.) but this was obviously not going to be a pairing which Took Off 😭. Reading other people's work (back when we had at most one fic a month) got me vaguely into the possibility of Wout/Mathieu, and I had a tentative go at writing them as the B Couple in a Julian/Tim fic (one of the others on the list), but then I saw them actually racing, and how could anyone not love Wout!! And despite how much this season is affecting their rivalry (also the media being constantly all, Wout Is So Useless), he and Mathieu will be linked forever in rl, let alone in fanfiction land. And whilst I think real Mathieu is way more 'no thoughts head empty' than my version of him, he's just so narratively honed that it's almost unrealistic he actually exists. He's just the perfect shape to project almost anything onto.

Then I had a just super pornographic dream about them, and thought, well, I don't even have to edit this, beyond removing Guillaume Martin (who was wandering around entirely bored by sub!Wout kissing dom!Mathieu's feet... I keep writing GM into the corners of things I shall never publish, knowing this will make no one laugh but me, but whatever shenanigans are going on with the main couple, he'll just be around and so wearily disinterested in their love life.)

But in this random bit of porn they were using hand gestures to continuously convey consent, and I couldn't help but wonder why. So I started a prequel to answer a question no one but me had, which is what Feeling bratty on the bus is.

The plot, such as it is, is Wout is grumbling on the team bus that sometimes he wants to push back against what Mathieu tells him to do for a while but does still ultimately want to be obedient, only Mathieu always halts procedings because he doesn't want to do anything Wout's not enthusiastically consenting to. Sepp Kuss (That's me, putting the dom into domestique! which I still think is one of the funniest lines I have ever written) then gives him a lecture about how it's okay to be a bratty sub, but Wout needs to explain this to Mathieu, as clearly neither of them have done any research. He attempts to give some examples from his own entirely offscreen relationship with Brandon McNulty (I'm still convinced this is a ship which has potential, but I do Not know enough about either of them to write it), but Wout is Inspired, and runs off to message Mathieu.

Mathieu does some research before the bus gets to the hotel (why is he there? Reasons! Why is he suddenly such a fast reader? Well he can read, he just doesn't!) and they go up to the hotel room, where Wout freaks out at being emotionally vulnerable. Mathieu tells him it'll be fine, even if Wout doesn't know how to say any of the above out loud, and that all Wout needs to do is find a way to let him know he's still super into what they're doing. Hence, the hand gestures. They then cuddle, and Wout takes a nap, exhausted by Having Had Feelings.

It's basically done, but also probably the least sexy BDSM-adjacent fic ever written (I don't think they even talk about sex, apart from in the vaguest terms). So I'm just not sure the world has any need for it, but sometimes I have an urgent need to read, Wout Was Having A Difficult Moment But Then Cuddles, hence why it's still sat there <3

[desire-mona]

yooo hello fellow allison cameron is a lesbian enthusiast!

i was wondering if you would like to be mutuals?

i need more house obsessed mutuals that i can yap to! and you seem v cool too:)

ALSO YOURE INTO SHIFTING LETS GOO‼️‼️

(hope that this doesn’t come across as weird)

YES HIIIIIIII!!!!!!! im using this opportunity to talk abt comphet!cam bc shes soooooo on the mind, i thiiiiink i stole this point from @blue-boulder in case u want another lesbian cam mutual

camerons comphet was so on display basically the entire time she was on the show to the point where its comical. first of all her "relationship" with chase (or lackthereof) being PURELY sexual and based off the fact that she was just bored and saw him as suitable enough. r u kidding me. also the only other time where she had sex with a man (still chase, womp womp #chasehater) being when shes high. exploding at that. and also side eyeing chase soooooo fucking hard, that man has zero understanding of how consent works.

i think cameron and wilson have a lot in common in terms of their reasoning for why they get with/ are drawn to the people they are. and thats also a big part of wilson comphet too, bc they both rly like feeling needed. now ofc cam goes abt it in a much better way bc she doesnt cheat on anyone, but you can tell with her marriage, while not lacking love, was most certainly based off of her desire to be someones lifeline per se. her brief sorta fling with that charity guy in that one episode is another example of this as well, but i do think another factor was her admiration for his morals and character. and again with house, which i will always laugh at because if that isnt the biggest case of "i can fix him" in the entire world then idk what is. wilson however just kinda gets with women who need him (or who he perceives as needing him) and then gets bored when they. dont. speaking very surface level bc this post isnt abt him. either way, wilson could learn a thing or two from cam in the comphet department i suppose. i really really wish we got more of cameron, if she stayed thru the whole series i think a whole lot of my life problems would be alleviated at the very least. i wanna see her get a girl crush!!

also, she absolutely 100% dresses like a queer woman, even for the early 2000s, like look at this

because wdym waistcoat and white button down with puffy sleeves.

n e way not a super in depth analysis cuz im kinda spitballing and not in a place of house md analysing but its good enough. hello new mutual!!!