#gordan merkel x reader smut

[emmyrosee]

So I just rewatched Atomic Blonde for the second time. I'm once again freaking out about Mr Merkel. That damn voice has me weak. Can we please talk about Soft!Dom!Merkel dealing with his bratty sub? 😇 Hope you're doing well, Darling. Have a good day. ~🌺

LISTEN. L I S T E N. MERKEL LIVES IN MY HEAD RENT FREEE, AND SOFT!DOM MERKEL????? I PAY HIM-

———

“It truly is a shame you try to use your mouth for things other than what I intend to use it for.”

The words tumble past Gordan’s lips effortlessly, almost sounding tired in the confession, as if used to this same talk and bored of it happening on so many occasions.

But one thing you learned about Gordan, is for as loving as he is, he is equally impatient for any ridiculousness you could throw at him.

With his glasses low on his nose and the loose locks of hair falling in front of his beautiful green eyes, they watch your throat bulge out as you suck on his thick fingers, gagging on the digits and trembling from the almost painful pleasure demanding attention between your legs.

“To think,” he continues, sighing dramatically. “I wanted to come home to my little bunny and treat them to a night they would never forget. But instead,” he uses his free, large hand to paw over the tightening fabric of his slacks. “I now have to punish them.”

“Pleash daddy,” you whimper around his fingers, small hand wrapping as much as it can around his wrist. You aren’t even sure you know what you’re asking for, something, anything to relieve the tension inside of you.

You want him to fuck you raw. You want him to spank you until you’re bruised. You want him to completely destroy you in every possible way he seems fit, anything but this seemingly annoyed indifference he’s sending your way now.

All while he pleasures himself.

This was real torture.

“Oh, my poor sweet baby,” he croons, and you whimper at the thick sarcasm dripping in his voice. “If only you had wanted to be good just a few minutes ago, hmm?”

The fingers in your mouth quickly pull themselves out of your lips, and you gag once more at the forceful removal, and before you can ask anything about his actions, he grips your chin in those same saliva coated fingers.

“Perhaps then that pretty little mouth would be used exactly as I’d planned, rather than how I now have to.”

@little-grunge-flowerz

[hecohansen31]

I hope it's not to much to ask...B, C, D, F, J, K, M, N, V, W, and X for Merkel 🖤 pretty please

Smut Under The Cut:

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I do feel like Merkel is one type to observe more than to actually act, so I do think that any parts that might reveal a lot about you are his favorite: for example I do think that he’d love your eyes, whether they are shadowed for nervousness or whether they are bright for happiness.

I do also think that a second contender is your mouth.

On himself I do think that he kind of likes his hair, I don’t know he just seemed always perfectly styled (plus let’s not talk about the entire ‘waiter’ look, because I feel like he was silently screaming about that hairstyle...).

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I do feel like he’d also join the party of ‘I am not ready to be a daddy yet’, so he wouldn’t cum inside, and I do feel like he isn’t a big fan of messes so I don’t want to make this seem boring but he’d either pull out and come onto your butt, or outside of you on your front, the max he could I do think would be a titty-fuck... and come all over your chest.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He is the most likely to tease you in public, he’d absolutely love nothing more than to finger you under a table, meanwhile he is plotting with somebody over a table and you are hiding softly your face in his neck and anybody would think you are just annoyed, but it’s because fucking Gordan is hitting just that spot...

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

I do think that he’d be a big fan of either doggy or missionary, with your legs over his shoulder, hitting you so deep that he’d see the outline of his cock right onto your stomach, but he’d also have the time of his life controlling you and teasing you from behind in doggy position.

Gently brushing the tip against your entrance and pushing it inside, just to slam it all and making you jump forward and choke a breath at its lagerness.

  J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I don’t think that Merkel is one that jerks off often, he seems the clean and polished type, who doesn’t have trouble finding somebody to stick onto his cock for a few hours and give him a bit of comfort from blue balls.

I’d also feel like he’d want his mind as calm as he can, and he’d try to do this by avoiding any distraction!

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

It can all summarized with ‘control’.

I do picture him as mainly a dom, although I don’t think that he’d be a cruel and ruthless one, he has seen too much shit in his life to be that rough with his partners, but he’d certainly be stern and have his rules, and would prefer to release a partner than to push him into something they are not into.

Soft and hard restarints, overstimulation (with much more of his hands), rules (a lot of), orgasm denial and maybe also DDLG, although he’d have an hard time with random hook-ups.

I also feel like he’d also try to sometimes to bring weapons in bed, like either knife play/gun play, again solely with partners he knows and is sure with.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Submission, like although he had an amazing chemistry with Charlize (I don’t make the rules, but she is his mom) I don’t think that those’d be the girls he’d go for, or be turned on by a show of power.

He’d be more interested in the soft girl that is sitting by herself at the club, trying silly to grab his attention with a few of attentive glances at him, but shy enough to not only make her deliciously blush, but to also disappear as he turns to catches them.

What turns him even more on, is shy girls that are deeply corrupted inside, like the same girl, pushing her panties in his fingers before moving out of the club.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) 

Although he might like brats, he doesn’t apprecciate people who don’t take the BDSM life seriously, for example ‘wannabe doms and subs’ and alongside that also spiteful and spoiled people are somebody he wouldn’t be find in.

He lives breaking subs into submission, but he won’t be annoyed by people who don’t understand the relationship. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I don’t think that he groans much, and I feel like he is rather silent and even if he speaks he tends to use a lower and husky tone, which needs to be listened immediately, he doesn’t like raising his voice.

He doesn’t mind loud partners, he actually encourages them!

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

I do think that he tends to be have his own movement of sweetness in bed, which are pretty rare, but sometimes he just wants to cherish his partners and focus on them, going down on them for entire hours and then maybe doing something more...

I’d also think that he is probably a swinger and doesn’t mind that lifestyle for both sexes.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He is pretty endorsed, although he has a more sleek appearance which he keeps even more attentive with the fact that he likes being attentive and ambiguous in an almost androginine way (also let me tell you he’ll judge your style so hard, bad style is also a pass for him).

[emmyrosee]

Alright but... a kinky Gordon Merkel interrogating reader? As a snippet or something? Have you thought about that already? Like she’s bound to a chair and he needs to know some infos she doesn’t want to give up?

Hi there! Future Emmy here! This ask is VERY old, buuuuut who am I, if not a Merkel whore.

I do just want a lil disclaimer and trigger warning that I was writing this as a DUBCON-ROLEPLAY PIECE. It didn’t start that way, but it’s the only way I could do it within my own comfort. So please, read it as if it’s a man doing this to his consenting partner- or don’t. I won’t shame 👀

Smooches! 💋

“So, are you going to tell me the association who sent you?”

The snakelike hiss of the agent who had captured you grates against your ear like nails on a chalkboard, rousing goosebumps from your skin and your left eye to twitch in protest. Your ankles, tied to a leg of the chair you were currently bound to kept you pried open, to the point your hips felt ready to pop from their sockets; your arms tied above you in an intricate knot, seemingly foreign to you as your fingers try to work it. 

Nothing you can’t handle. Child’s play, mystery man.

You hated his closeness, the heat from his breath spanning over your cheek, the smell of his hair gel leaving an mentholic burn in your nose. Stale bourbon, cigarette smoke and expensive, masking cologne make you feel sick, and you reel away the closer he gets.

“You’ll have to buy me a drink in Hell before I tell you who sent me,” you growl, moving to spit in front of his feet. He chuckles lowly, grabbing your cheeks firmly in between his fingers and forcing your neck to turn farther than it should, almost as if trying to twist the head off of a Barbie doll.

“Keep the attitude and that can be arranged,” he chuckles as if you were a child being scolded. “You do not want to make this worse for yourself, little one,” he says, his voice low and disgustingly alluring as he traces his nose over your cheek. “I am a man who has nothing to lose and all to gain... you will lose.”

You hiss and wrench your head from his grip, your skull colliding with his nose, and you smirk as he curses in German and pulls back, massive paws covering his mouth and nose.

He offers you a low chuckle before spitting out a wad of blood; passing you a look, the blood dripping from his nose to stain his teeth and gums, he quickly winds his hand back up before backhanding you with enough force to turn your head in the other direction. The thick rings adorning his fingers crack one of your molars, the metallic taste of your own crimson blood making you queasy. You tip your head to spit out the blood, only to flash a smirk back at him.

“That all you got, Mister?” You encourage, watching his jaw tick. “You hold no powers; I can take any pain you dole.”

The corners of his mouth tip towards a smirk, “they had mentioned you might be… accustomed to pain. A little girl like you, I didn’t want to believe it.”

You scowl with a soft “fuck you,” but instead of cracking you once again with his ring hand, he stalks to the back of the dark room, hands rustling in a drawer of sorts, and you cock your brow in confusion, trying to listen for any audio clues for his searching. 

It was a jostle of a knife, at first. It made a shiver run down your spine, and you swallow as his shoulders shift and bend under the thick, black sweater he was wearing. Your eyes scan over the darkness for something, anything familiar, and you snarl softly to yourself at the inability to make out something, anything to remember the location.

A light above you. This chair. These rope. And the man who now holds your life in his calloused fingers.

Snapped from your own thoughts as the clicking of expensive shoes draw closer, the man smirks slyly, slender fingers drawing up and down the sharp curve of the knife.

“It does not have to be like this,” he sighs dramatically, tongue tracing his swollen upper lip. “I am more than willing to offer us both a solution that consensually benefits us.” His eyes lull over you bored, and you sit back against your uncomfortable seat.

“No.”

“Shame.” Without allowing you to think twice, the blade of the knife slices a jagged slip through your shirt before being tossed to the side and being replaced with two large paws; despite your shrieks of disapproval, his hands shred your shirt from your body, hot skin being nipped at the thick, bitterly chilled air.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” You scream, your legs trying to fight harder against your tied ankles, and all he does is chuckle before slipping his hand under your brazier. Rough fingertips pinch your nipple roughly, and as your thighs try to tighten on themselves, you only scream louder.

Another filthy, disgusting hand slithers down between your spread legs and cups your hot mound in his fingers. Tears brim at your eyes, fearful and angry for the nerve of such a creature to do the unspeakable to you.

No. Not by him.

“Stop!” You plead, and he merely gives you a snort. “I’ll talk! Please! I’ll fucking talk, get away from me!”

Green eyes flick up to meet your offended gaze, and skilled fingers pop the button of your pants open. “You had your chance, didn’t you, little one?” He croons, thick fingers slipping down your underwear, and you tremble in horror at the wetness that had shamefully pooled against the fabric.

“Besides,” he says softly, cocking his head. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you? Hmm?”

You wail as two meaty fingers slip inside of your velvet cavern, the sting of being stretched and resistance against the act only making your head drop back to let a euphoric, girlish moan out.

“That’s right,” he purrs. “I could smell you from up here… yes, you’re going to talk. But first?” He leans his face down to be nose to nose, your hot breath getting trapped between you as your cloudy eyes look up at him.

“You’re going to beg.”

[emmyrosee]

For the smut alphabet could you pretty please do C, E and F with Merkel, Mark and Henry Pearl?

You tryna kill me?

Funky set up, bear with me lmao

———

C is for Cum

Merkel is fairly tame when it comes to seeing you covered in his cum. He admires you briefly, maybe bringing a thumb-full to your lips for you to indulge in, but for the most part, he stays controlled about it, gentlemanly still.

That is, until he’s alone. He can close his eyes and remember your little yelps and whimpers, your little moans of appreciation of his hot ropes that decorate your face. He can remember, and that’s enough for him to want to restart the cycle again.

Mark however.. he’s a lot less subtle. He absolutely loves to cover every inch of you in his cum, watching with hazy eyes as it drips down your tits, your face, your thighs, your ass (his personal favorite), wherever he managed to shoot himself. If you’re on birth control and raw dogging, he’ll watch it drip out of your dripping hole, lifting your thighs and moving them to watch it fall differently before smirking to himself and lowering to your pussy to “clean you up.”

Henry Pearl is very shy about it. He won’t try anything with it, opting instead to get you cleaned up as soon as he can. 

But. When you sit up and bring some to your lips, or tell him how good he was and feels all over you, he can’t fight the reforming erection that suddenly demands to cover you again.

Not that you complain, of course.

E is for Experience

Merkel, being a worldly man, has enough experience to write home about. After a mission or when he finally has a minute to let it all hang out, the man certainly is a sight for sore eyes, enough where he can have any woman at his feet instantly. You, of course, are no exception that smolder and that experience.

Mark isn’t so much experienced as he is good. He knows his way around a woman’s body when he wants to be, enough to leave a certain need and itch to get that feeling and that high back. 

Henry Pearl... not that much. But, much like Mark, he know’s his way around a woman’s body. Very, painfully well. Enough to make you quiver and shake and writhe without him even touching you. His words, his movements, his gentle loving is more than enough to make up for the fact that he doesn’t have quite the body count of others around him.

And that’s your little secret.

F is for Favorite position

Merkel is a fan of just laying you on the nearest piece of furniture- couch, table, bed, anywhere, and just taking you as he stands, ankles in his hands. The full control, the ability to see you, everything about that pose drives him insane. 

Mark prefers the cowgirl; reverse or normal, he’s not picky, but just watching you work yourself, seeing you bounce as he fucks up into you.. he’d pay money to see it all day, everyday. Not that you haven’t done it for free, but it was fantastic enough where he wants to do it over and over and over again.

Henry Pearl absolutely loves spooning as he fucks you. slowly entering you from behind as you drunkenly tilt your head in search for a kiss, the needy whines as he ever so gently wraps a hand around your delicate throat, not enough to do anything but just to remind you that he’s here and at that moment he’s in charge... crazy positions just don’t compare.

[emmyrosee]

Um, I'm going to need you to continue that Merkel x Baby ask where she finds out he's looking to move her. PLEASE. 💔

JUST FOR YOU BABY🥺💕

———

He wants to tuck her into his neck. He wants to hold her so close that she forgets why she’s even crying. He wants to make her feel safe. Protected.

Loved.

Merkel finally settles on the word love. It’s not easy for him to accept, but it’s definitely it. The way he feels when she sneaks into his room at night to cuddle because she can’t sleep. The way he feels when he makes baby her favorite breakfast. The way he feels when he comes home after a long goddamned day and she’s in his bed, half naked with some silly rope for bondage but the poor girl fell asleep.

And Merkel loves her too much to make her stay.

“Please,” She continues to beg, snapping Merkel out of his thoughts. “Please, please, please-“

“This is for you,” he assures, crouching in front of her. He gently grabs her cheeks, making her look at him. “I’m doing this for you.”

“They’ll kill me,” She echoes from earlier. “They’ll kill me, Mr Merkel. I’m sorry, please forgive me... I’ll be good, I swear I’ll be good-“ her hands clasp over his, and she kisses them out of mercy, almost as if a sign to hand herself to him entirely. To swear her goodness and to make sure he knew that she was going to be nothing more than a fly on his wall.

Merkel wracks his brain for an excuse. He can’t say anything about the other night. He won’t. “They won’t kill you,” he says, though his faith in how genuine he sounds isn’t exactly solid.

“Yes, they will,” she hisses through clenched teeth as she stands up. She’s breathing like a caged animal, eyes full of molten lava and hatred. “And you fucking know it, Merkel.”

She’ll never know how much that lack of “Mr” hurts Merkel. The “Mr” was a sign of respect. A sign of trust in authority. A trust in him.

He never expects “Gordan,” but “Mr Merkel” is who he is now.

“I don’t care where you go,” he spits hotly. “But you can’t stay here.”

“Why!” She screams. “Why! You’re suddenly too good of a rebel? Too good to house someone? Hey, why don’t you just fucking turn me in for the money! Then you can get a nice, new car and name it after me while you wheel your new bitches around town!”

“It’s not about the money-“

“Well I’m gonna die anyways, the least I could do is pay for your next big break-“

“I don’t want to kick you out!” He barks, grabbing her shoulders. She looks up at him in hatred- nothing but hatred- and in his gaze is nothing but.

There’s something so delicious in a post-fight kiss. Merkel’s addicted to it. The firey possession, the struggle for dominance, the complete focus on making the other one seem weak. And despite the amount of times she’s been trapped under Merkel’s dominance, she’s just as powerful as he.

She pushes him, “you’re such a fucking asshole.” The insult barely does anything to quell the desire building in Merkel’s soul, and judging by the way her leg is hooking around his waist, heel digging straight into his tailbone, she feels no different either.

They stumble down the hallway, demolishing two lamps and a small table in the process. He pushes her on the bed, and they’re both quick to remove all their clothes.

“Fuck You,” she growls, tugging at the fluffy parts of his hair.

“Yes,” he says flatly, sucking hard along her neck. “I fucking want to.”

[emmyrosee]

ok so baby's stuck in the apartment all the time, so i highkey HC that they role-play often and that, despite being a rebel, merkel is quite bad at it

HA-

Like baby’s planned a whole kinky ass night together with role playing and everything, expecting Merkel to be a good actor and be able to go along with it pretty well.

Well.

Mans is talented with a lot of things... pretending that baby is a nurse who has to give him an exam is not one of them.

“Bend over, Mr Merkel,” she purrs with a wink. And he looks at the nearest piece of furniture and is just like “here?”

And after trying to GET HIM IN THE FUCKING BEDROOM, he’s like “you kEEP CALLING ME MR MERKEL-“

“BECAUSE THATS YOUR N A M E-“

“YEAH BUT I DONT KNOW IF YOURE PLAYING OR NOT, KID!”

Ugh.

Someone teach this poor baby how to seduce🥺❤️

[emmyrosee]

Can we talk about Merkel for a second? I've been dying to talk about Merkel. So first off he's obvs stuck in east berlin so his pop culture is not that great, but he defiantly has a stash of western contraband like some records, a couple of books, and several playboys that the fugitive may or may not have came across

“Can we talk about Merkel-“ I WOULD BE OFFENDED IF WE DIDNT😫

Because I absolutely love and agree with this. And it’s probably hidden somewhere super duper secret, more secretive than YOU, so one day he forgets to hide you in the room (that’ll make sense in on the run) and you just kinda look around, smirking as you find photo albums and all this super embarrassing stuff.

And his records are probably really good, something you wouldn’t expect from someone like him- like he’s so static and plain that you don’t expect the rock music and the copious amounts of alcohol and everything he’s hiding.

But then you peel a book from a box and suddenly... there’s just- there’s just everything. Boobs, asses, the occasional spread eagle, the passing femdom, there’s nothing you can’t find in these magazines.

And you feel yourself blushing because you were snooping and you shouldn’t have but this is MERKEL, the super secret rebel that only houses you because he’s such a rebel, and now there’s women in leather glaring at you from the magazine, slicked back hair and whip in her hands from the secret box that Merkel was hiding.

And there’s so. Many. Magazines. There’s no doubt you get lost, imagining the pinched, contorted-pleasured-face of Gordan Merkel as he slowly jerks himself dry to these pictures and-

The magazine gets ripped from your hand as Merkel towers over you, face completely red.

“You uh.... you weren’t supposed to find those.”

[emmyrosee]

I'm a slut for makeup sex with merkel and for just merkel in general i guess

There is minimal I wouldn’t let that man do to me and that’s the tea🤷🏻‍♀️

Can we talk about though? Just how hot it would be? Doesn’t even have to be part of the fugitive plot line. Maybe you just hate the insanely dangerous work he’s in.

And there’s just bruises and bite marks, scratches down the e n t i e r t y of his wide, broad back, hickeys in places where there shouldn’t be, just a complete mess of you and him as you completely destroy each other.

Afterwards, neither of you can move. His hair is a mess, yours looks like a set of birds moved in, and the dried spit glistening along his back as he lays on his stomach towards you sends more swirls of desire around.

Ugh.

UGHHHH

[emmyrosee]

I mean in his defense... hiding a fugitive 100% destroyed his sex life for a while and like my mans got needs ya know?

Nah you right.

Although.....

Although.

Imagine the first time he does bring a girl back to his place because you’ve been sick and not really leaving your room, so he gets the clear to bring someone home, and he does.

And they’re getting busy and freaky, and she just so happens to look over his shoulder and she shrieks and pushes him away like it’s bloody murder, and when he tries to calm his lady friend down she just shoves him away and sprints away from the house, tig ol bitties flapping in the wind.

And of course baby is confused because like... what just happened, and when he looks up he just sees you standing in the doorframe, his clothes hanging from your frame and juice on the shirt.

“Mr. Merkel?”

“What.”

“I need a new nightshirt.”

Mans needs those magazines and to pray to god for a sign to not kill you

[hecohansen31]

KINKTOBER (20: Loss of Virginity)

Gordan Merkel+Poet! Reader:

Hey lovelies!

This is my first fic on Merkel ever, so if you ever want to anymore asks, please let me know!

Also the concept of this belongs to the lovely @emmyrosee so please check out her blog, because we stan (1) queen, much love to you!

From the list of prompts by @rougepetale​.

SUMMARY: It was fate who brought them together, but it is war separating them. Will their last goodbye be hurtful or sweet?

WARNINGS: Loss of Virginity/ Unprotected Sex (... don’t do like Merkel... wrap it up)/Oral Sex (Female Receiving).

You and Merkel had basically grown up together, childhood friends since the start.

So, when he had joined the “Resistance” you hadn’t stopped at nothing to follow him, in your own way.

You had always been good with words, they flowed so easily from your mouth and onto the paper page that you couldn’t help but write what you felt, being repressed by a competitive regime, that stopped others from expressing themselves and meet again with their family, from which they were separated by the big and feared Wall.

You hadn’t thought you could become such a phenomenon but once your brother, who worked on the streets alongside Merkel had told you that the Stasi had started wondering who was “the bitch, who wrote those offending poems that they found everywhere in the city”.

You had started writing even more dramatic poems, speaking more freely and eventually it got you caught.

The fact that even international espionage agencies had started being involved in Berlin was enough for Merkel to freak out and order you out of the country, getting somebody to bring you with them abroad in secret.

But you hadn’t wanted to leave him and this had made you start an argument with him.

“You fucking don’t understand, (Y/N)!” he screamed at you, making you back up into the wall, where you stood onto, shielding your body slightly with your hands and Merkel backed immediately up understanding your discomfort “… I can’t have you running around, putting yourself in dangerous situation, anymore, the situation is fucking serious!”.

“…I know, Merkel” you weren’t stupid so you knew perfectly what he meant “…but it would break my heart to leave you here”.

“You don’t understand how much it hurts me” he mumbled, whispering slowly and grabbing your hand, bringing it to his cheeks, flamed and hot due to his own rage mixed with the love he felt for you.

The girl he had always considered nothing more than an annoying bother, always clutching at him, was now the one he would die for, had anything happened to you.

Like it might happen during those times.

Not only he was having trouble dealing with Percival, but the new agent from the UK didn’t make it easy for him and all he wanted was to have just one less thought, with you away somewhere safe…

… somewhere far away from him.

It pained him to think about it, but knowing you safe brought him more comfort than knowing you in Eastern Berlin, risking your life.

“… but it is the only way out of this I see” he mumbled softly, his voice becoming a whisper meanwhile he brought you in a strict hug, feeling you sniffle in his arms, slowly becoming more and more loose in his arms, giving yourself up to your own fate.

“I don’t…” you mumbled meanwhile a sob shook your tiny body, so tiny in his arms and so frail “… don’t think that I can live without you, Gordan”.

He gently kissed your forehead and then pushed back to look at you in the face, muttering softly.

“You can and you will” he promised you, watching deeply in your eyes, before softness overtook him and he find himself strangely tearing up a bit “… how will I survive without you constantly annoying me?”.

You pushed him away, with a dark stare in your face, giggling shyly at his own joke, meanwhile you taunted him with a few fists to his chest, with had no effect on him although he faked to surrender under them.

But one hit him just right and you found yourself tumbling on the floor with him, one on top of the other.

You were confused by the sudden situation, not knowing if you had gone further than your usual friendship, mostly since Gordan’s lips were just under yours, a slight pressure towards the ground and you…

… he kissed you before, it was so sudden that you were taken aback, but quickly relaxed yourself into it, letting him take the lead to what was a sweet kiss, a farewell of some sorts and wanting more, desperately.

Even more with the way he grasped your clothes tight, almost wanting to rip them from your body.

You had to stop him, more to calm your quickening heart and regain your stolen breath, than from true disgust or rejection.

“I am sorry” he muttered, confused and not knowing whether he had wronged you or…

“… does your heart beat as quick as mine?” your hand pushed itself onto his chest and felt his heart rapidly beats against it, effectively answering your question ”…I have been feeling like this since I first met you, and you were nothing but an arrogant older boy”.

“… so… you can sprout insults but I can’t…” he mumbled, getting another hit on his chest, but a kiss to his lips soothed him.

And before you knew it, you were on the small bed of your childhood room, with your childhood friend, holding you closer to him than you thought was possible, meanwhile he laid sweet kisses onto your body, not forgetting any spot, as if he wanted to commit every part of your body to his memory.

The thought made you almost feel as if you already were missing him, as if he was already gone from your life.

You tightened your grip on him, and grabbed his hair in your hands, meanwhile he went down on you, sharing your juices with him, as he gently rubbed your clit, making you feel better and taking for a bit your mind off the dreadful thought of being separated by on ocean.

He brought you over the edge, after holding you onto it for quite a bit.

And then his member rubbed against your tender skin, still sensitive from you high, and you couldn’t help but blush a bit, slightly stilling in his close grip.

Something which didn’t go unnoticed by him, who gently peppered your face and neck with small kisses to make you relax and face him.

“What is wrong, little katze?” he mumbled as soon as he got your attention, no matter that you tried to avoid staring him in his beautiful eyes, eventually giving up and whispering your little secret.

“You are my first, Gordan”.

This left him wide-eyed and a smirk appeared on his face and you hid your face to your side, muttering something about making his ego just stronger, pushing him away, but he just made you face again, gently brushing his member against your clit, making you arch onto the bed.

“… I’ll make it special, if you want me to be your first” he said, caressing your sweaty hair out of your face, tracing with his thumb your lips “… I would have bought candles and flowers and all the shit, had I know it… and if you want to wait… we can…”.

“I don’t need “all that shit”, Gordan” you giggled, this time being the one that made him blush “… I just need you, and the thought of losing you, makes me so so…”.

“I don’t want to rush you…” he whispered onto your lips, before he laid a kiss there and you couldn’t help but smile into it.

“…I am ready, Gordan” you muttered, against his lips, caressing them one last time with yours “… I don’t want anybody else other than you, as my first”.

You saw tears shine again in Gordan’s eyes, but he ducked them down quickly to focus on the task ahead, entering you slowly and letting you get adjusted to it, meanwhile you hissed due to the painful intrusion.

Quickly Gordan’s hand joined yours and his lips went to your forehead, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, meanwhile he gently started moving as you squeezed back his hand, giving him the possibility to move, in you.

And with that you lost your last drop of innocence, blood coating the sheets as you laid in each other’s arms once it was all done, a phantom pain gently sobbing between your legs, but the knowledge that your last memory of your best-friend-turned-lover was so sweet, soothed any pain.

You would miss him, but you knew you would meet again.

You had grown up together, fallen in love and you had no doubt love and happiness were in your future.

You just had to wait.

---

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[emmyrosee]

Hopping.

On The Run I

Hey guess what.

It’s done! I’m so excited!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m terrified. This definitely isn’t how I thought this would go, but I don’t despise it??? I don’t know. Anyways.

WARNINGS: heavy plot, heavy dialogue, language. No smut in this chapter (don’t worry it’s coming😘)

Gordan Merkel x Fugitive!Reader; after a series of unfortunate events lands you in East Berlin, you fear everyone and everything in your path. And it crosses paths with a stranger who takes a risk on you.

———-

“Do you remember how you got here?”

The question snapped you out of your confused daze, and you stared at the man before you. His piercing green eyes bore into you like you were nothing more than a piece of wood, waiting to be carved.

It was a good question, to be fair. But which ‘here’ was this man referring to?

The ‘you,’ running in Milan?

The ‘you,’ hiding in the deepest, dankest corners of Paris?

Or the ‘you,’ committing the most heinous act that you knew possible all those years ago.

No one would blame you for jumping at the most random of sirens. The warrant for your arrest was out there, and the reward was obscene.

Hell, if you knew you would be given some form of immunity, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

But this was your life on the line now. The police from home, various government officials, even the people who had once housed you had turned against you at the ridiculous amount of money being offered. And no stones could be left; whether they were criminal or not, their crimes would be lessened if they turned you in, dead or alive.

They weren’t very picky.

The chilled streets of Berlin’s alleys only seemed to make your stress levels grow, heart beating faster and faster as you tried to shield yourself from everyone you passed.

Night after night you wandered, opting it safer than the day. In the day, no one was willing to listen to your story, see another side of you. All they saw was money, and they wanted it.

At night however, stories howled like the wind. People of their own sins had more important things to focus on than you, and you accept and adore that lack of attention.

You’re not sure what tripped you off. A distant siren, maybe? Or maybe just one too many money-hungry eyes?

Whatever it was, you felt the need to run.

Well. Run further that is.

You dug your hands deeper into your pockets and slowly crept faster, walking speed feeling more of a jog.

Then faster.

The feeling grew and your holed, disgusting sneakers squeaking against the pavement.

You felt like you were doing this for your whole life. The same routine over and over and over and over again.

Your legs kick higher and higher as you dash, scrambling around as your weakened body struggles to keep up.

Until a massive force stops you, gripping your arms tightly to steady you.

“Woah, woah, woah,” a voice says, struggling against your fighting form. You shove harder at the chest that’s trying to hold you, unsuccessful with every jerk of your much smaller frame. His large hands grab your shoulders and force you into the brick wall you were closest to. But the fire of fear was still roaring, and whether you wanted to or not, you couldn’t stop.

All you could do was bite, kick and scream, praying someone would hear.

“Relax!” He commanded, giving you one last, hard shove. The bricks bit into your skin, the small pebbles of the flaking wall crumbling in your struggle.

“Please,” You whimper in fear. “Please let me go, I-I-I don’t-“

“Shush,” he demands. You close your lips, though you’re unable to stop your shaking lips from allowing whimpers past. Your eyes creak open to look at the deep voiced, large German man who’s grip wasn’t about to falter.

Despite his demanding, deep voice, his eyes showed no malice or anger; in fact, nothing but sympathy was pooled in his forest green irises. His jaw was tight with authority, and he seemingly waited for you to look at him before continuing to speak.

Shit, you think to yourself, not like this. Shit shit shit-

“We need to get you out of the open,” he says sternly, yet softly. “Come on-“

“N-no!” You protest. “No!”

The man pulls back slightly at your apparent fear, and licks his lips in thought.

“I’m not going to leave you out here,” he explains. “God knows the last time you ate or bathed or-“

You tremble weakly in his grip, and almost on cue, your stomach growls loudly. He tilts his head, “you haven’t eaten recently, have you?”

Against your better judgement, you gently shake your head and avoid his laser sharp gaze. He nods, “so I thought.”

“I’ll be fine,” you spit, shrugging him off of your arms. He finally drops his arms as you spin on your heel, crossing your arms tightly over your chest and walk hurriedly away.

“You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to,” he calls after you, making you stop. “But I sincerely want to help. Please? Just allow me to feed you, then I’ll sneak you over any boarder you’d like.”

“No,” you say quietly, so softly you’re not sure he can hear you. “I’ve made it this far, I can make it further on my own.”

“Don’t think I don’t know who you are,” he says. “You’re that fugitive, aren’t you?” He asks though his voice is sure, making you screw your eyes shut tight. “The one who’s been on the lamb for, what, three years?” His footsteps are loud as they pound on the pavement behind you. “That little pile of mad money that the government has raised is enough to make anyone an enemy, no?”

You say nothing.

“Lucky for you, I have no reason for the money. In fact, I’d set the money on fire and join you on the run as well before I give into any shit that the government spills to its sheep.

“Just let me take you someplace; a safe place that I know. And then wherever you want to go, I will take you. But just take the help I’m willing to give because God knows how long someone is going to show you this extent of mercy.”

You want to scream at him, ask him how he dares speak to you like that. You want to smack him one, tell him that he has no fucking idea who he’s talking to, and that you’ve survived without the help of anyone for those three years.

But you can’t.

Because everything he said is true. That, and you’re so weak- especially from trying to fight him off- that you literally aren’t sure if you raise your hand high enough to smack him.

“I’m heading to Sweden,” you say softly. “You feed me, you get my name, and you take me to the Swedish border. I go from there. Deal?”

“Deal,” he says with a gentle smile.

——————-

“Do you remember how you got here?” The man asks quietly.

Your fingers clutch at the warm, thick blanket that’s draped over your shoulders. In front of you sits a small plate of cookies and a cup of tea, which of you’ve cleared three of. Each time you clear the plate or drain the cup, the man chuckles and merely refills it.

“Any recollection of how you ended up in East Berlin?” He asks, shifting to lean forwards on his knee.

You avoid his gaze some more, eyes casting away to the plate of cookies as you eye them.

“Go on,” he nods. “Have more. Please. I insist.” He smiles encouragingly, and slowly you reach forwards to take another one.

“I don’t know,” you whisper at your cookie childishly, playing the edge against your chapped lips. “I just.... turned a corner and ended up in Berlin.”

“You and I both know that that’s not the type of ‘how’ I meant,” he teases. “I mean I know your records and I know your crimes, but how did you get here?”

Your heart sinks further into your stomach as you finally look up at the man. His face was soft despite his sharp features, the dim lights of... whatever building you were in (a printing house? Some form of passport office? You couldn’t put your finger on it.) casting shadows on him to make him look statuesque.

And you wanted to trust him.

Desperately.

His reassuring kindness and your endless bounty of cookies and tea brought you a new wave of hope, that someone out there just might want to help you with nothing else in mind.

If he wanted the money, why didn’t he just turn you in?

“Where were you before?” He asks.

“Crossed over from Poland. Settled in Cottbus before the game began again.”

He cocks a brow, “game?”

You grin, “of cat and mouse, of course.”

The man chuckles at your joke, smile bright against the dingy air around you.

“More like fox and rabbit, since you’ve been hopping around like a little bunny, no?”

And you laughed.

You actually laughed.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

It was the first time in three fucking years you’d been able to do so much as chuckle, let alone laugh.

The silence, for once, is comforting to you, and you grasp the blanket higher on your shoulders.

“The sun is rising,” he says softly, bring you back to him. Your eyes traveled upward to the windows of his building, and through the dark grey clouds, you could in fact see the brightness of heavens joy that brought you nothing but fear.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper in worry. “I can’t go out there! Not now. Can I just... stay here?”

The man sighs, “sadly, no. But, I can help you further, if you so desire.”

“How so?”

“Stay in Berlin,” he says, grinning as you tense up. “I’ll figure a plan to get you safely to the Swedish border, exactly as you asked. Then,” he crosses one leg over the other, “home.”

Home.

You missed home.

You missed home. A lot.

You’d rather die than not go home, but after three years you wondered if you could even attempt. And to think this man could?

Hm.

But he hasn’t let you down yet.

“That amount of money is going to keep rising, sir,” you insist.

He grins, “my trust for the government cannot be bought, Miss.” He stands up and slowly creeps towards the door, “if you want to come with me and be served with the utmost protection, we must leave now.”

Your ears perk up and your heart pounds. “I don’t even know your name,” you say, a certain sadness in your voice.

He grins.

“Merkel. Gordan Merkel. Trust me. You’re not my first,” he says, pushing the door open. “I’ll come with the car around.”

He winks.

“It’s time to relax on the hopping, little bunny. You’re safe now. I promise.”

Tagging💕

@peachesandfern

@anxiousamandapanda

@hecohansen31

@blakewaterxx

@w0nder-marie

@babyboy-cody

@kathryn-jane

@kaigitana

@ohhoneyaaaaaaa

[emmyrosee]

My Queue💕

For the Longer fics in Progress

New series: Roman x Reader x Mickey; Little Rock.

*Fivesome, Party, Party, Party*

It’s your birthday! Your best friends all decide to throw you a small party to celebrate. But when a suggestive gift sparks some untapped feelings, certain desires come to life.

*untitled Merkel smut*

A surprise for all my Patreon babes 👀❤️

*Axel Cluney x Reader; Mud on The Tires*

What was supposed to be a romantic night to celebrate your anniversary turns into more than you and Axel bargained for as his beloved truck gets stuck in the mud.

Gordan Merkel x Reader; little things.

When a group of rebels disappear just a few days before Gordan Merkel does, questions swim through your brain as you struggle to come to terms with what exactly happened to your lover, and that the image of wanted signs all over Berlin staring back at you might be the last time you get to see his face.