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shadeysprings · 7 months

Text

YOU

—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 5.4K

A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

They didn’t come.

It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.

But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?

You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.

Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more.

As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before.

Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand.

“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”

“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”

His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer.

“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.

“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”

You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence.

But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it.

“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?

“I’m sorry?”

“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”

That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.

“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”

The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”

Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?

“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”

Under-dressed.

Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?

You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him.

The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait.

“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth.

You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”

“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.”

Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention.

“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh.

You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up.

“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

Giggling.

It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are.

The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other.

The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project?

You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out.

He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you.

“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”

And it doesn’t.

You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue.

You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss.

He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss.

To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head.

But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them.

Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further.

But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste.

Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core.

It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue.

You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit.

The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside.

Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge.

“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat.

His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.

Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss.

The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note.

But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”

Nervous.

It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all.

“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier.

“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.

After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship.

You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.

A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.

It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.

What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather.

There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.

“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”

“You made this?”

“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery.

“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head.

“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel.

“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head.

The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room.

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture.

“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him.

Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face.

“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you.

You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck.

“Dance with me.”

It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.

It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.

“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”

Giddy.

It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head.

You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week.

Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there.

You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.

Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore.

Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier.

A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.

Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.

You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you.

Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.

“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die.

“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins.

It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark.

You’re dead.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.

A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him.

“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.

“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”

“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him.

He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”

“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”

The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before.

“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”

#steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x f!reader #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #you #fresh #fresh the movie #sebastian stan characters #dark fic #horror fic #beanie's freaktober fest #freaktober fest #shadeysprings fics

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fairyofshampgyu · 1 year

Text

Devil by the Window 𖤐⁶⁶⁶𖤍♱

genre: smut, succubus demon

Pairing: beomgyu x succubus! Reader

Warnings: reader is a s*x demon, smut, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, blow job, pegging, riding, ass slapping, hair pulling, overstimulation

Word count: 1.5k

No matter what beomgyu does, he cannot seem to sleep at all.

He could scream from the utter frustration. He feels tired so why isn’t he asleep?! Could it be the coffee he had in the morning? But he always has coffee and it never does that to him. Was it the thriller he watched with Kai? He doesn’t really find stuff like that scary though. Beomgyu has tried everything from counting sheep to asmr whale sounds, none of it seems to work.

That’s when he feels the outside breeze coming from his window and being hit with the sudden yet subtle coldness. He swears he can hear something whispering his name continuously but it’s probably just the wind.

Wasn’t his window closed? He could have sworn he never opened it. That’s strange. He leaves the comforting warmness of his sheets and gets up to close the window, lying back down and beginning to close his eyes. But he feels the chilliness almost instantly again, he sighs, opening his eyes and noticing his window was open somehow yet again.

What the hell? Now he’s a bit freaked out, there’s no way the wind could just open his window like that. He closed it fully shut too. A million thoughts race his mind, it could be because it’s dark—he’s been deprived of sleep for hours, watching that thriller earlier on and also he can be a bit of a hypochondriac—but the only reasonable explanation he could think of was a serial killer.

He’s going to get murdered tonight. Unsuspecting victim gets brutally stabbed in the middle of the night in their own home. He can already see the headlines. That’s when he sees a shadow slowing creeping in through his window. Okay, he’s absolutely, definitely, completely going to die tonight. He tries to scream but is muffled by their hand.

“Shushh relax, baby. I’m not here to kill you. Well, I could if I wanted to, but you’re too cute to die just yet.” You say to him in a sultry voice that’s not very reassuring. That’s when he’s actually able to see what’s in front of him.

Small horns on your head, matching tail, black lingerie and tits practically pouring out. Glitter shimmering and scattering parts of their face and body. This is definitely him hallucinating from the lack of sleep right now but he asks anyway, “What…What are you?”

You laugh, “I’m your wet dreams. A sex demon, succubus. I fuck people at night.”

“Oh. Cool.” Damn, he doesn’t even get this good hallucinations when he’s high.

“Oh cool? I usually get more of a reaction than that. That’s a first.”

“Are you gonna fuck me then? You can fuck me if you want.” Beomgyu shrugs, he doesn’t really care if he’s hallucinating at this point, it’s better than staring off into darkness, trying to go to sleep, crazed out of his mind. At least whatever his imagination conjured up was hot. Although, he didn’t think he was THAT freaky he has to admit. He’s kinda turned on now though.

“Wow. You really are a different one. Are you really not fazed at all? I’m a demon.”

“Yeah I didn’t know I had some sort of demon kink either. This hallucination is wild.”

“Hallucination? This isn’t a hallucination. I am very real.”

“Whatever you say.”

“This is real! I am literally real bro”

“You can’t really prove it.”

You sigh, frustrated. “Whatever. I don’t care, I just need to fuck someone.”

Not wasting anytime, since you need to fuck in order to survive and you haven’t fucked anyone in mere hours, you crawl on his bed, sitting in front of him and pulling out his already hard dick from his plaid pajama bottoms.

You pump him a couple times then bring your mouth to his dick, sticking your tongue out and dragging his tip back and forth against it. His precum dribbling onto your tongue as you continued swirling your tongue around his tip. And then you take take him in properly. He gasps as you fit pretty much all of him in your mouth without even gagging even though he’s quite big. Must be demon things or something.

You carry on bobbing your head up and down on his dick, holding his hips down as he cutely gripped your horns with his hands for dear life, moaning out prettily. The human’s already going to cum and you can sense it.

“Need to cum…” He whimpers and says after a while, his thighs clenching.

“Aw I haven’t even started yet and you already need to cum? What a cute human. Go on then.” You say, condescendingly.

So he does, whining out and gripping on your horns even tighter, hips lifting off the mattress and squirting into your mouth.

Next, you throw him like a rag doll to his desk you see and bend his pretty figure over it.

“Wanna be fucked?”

He nods fast.

Supposedly out of thin air since beomgyu doesn’t recall you having it on previously, you’re in a strap on, dildo already lubed as well.

You slowly push the dildo into his ass and he moans, slumping his body more onto the desk. You hold onto his waist, thrusting into him. You speed up and beomgyu moans and whines even louder each time you roughly pound into him.

You slap his little ass and it seems to elicit even more moans out of him.

“More…more pleas-ahh…” He begs.

You slap his ass repeatedly until his cute cheeks and skin are red and marked, fucking into him even more harshly and fast, skin slapping sounds so loud at this point.

You tug on his long hair, still spanking his red ass and all he can do is moan continuously, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of his hair pulled, being spanked and fucked dumb too much for him, he’s practically drooling.

He’s never been fucked this good ever. At the back of his mind, he’s beginning to question whether this was all really just a hallucination of his, everything feeling almost too real. But he’s feeling way too blissed out to give a damn at all. He can’t stop his dick from leaking from it all, he could cum any second again.

“Such a whore hmmn? Just a cumslut wanting to be fucked by anything? That you even wanna be fucked by a demon?” You pull on his hair, bringing his face up. But all beomgyu can do is pant and moan even louder.

“Say it. What are you?”

“Your cumslut-ahh…” He slurs, eyes heavy and glazed up.

You take his dick, pumping it fast at the same rhythm of pounding into him and he yelps, spurting heaps of his cum onto his desk. He slumps on there, catching his breath, shutting his eyes.

You push him back on the bed, holding his dainty wrists next to his head and he complies. You straddle his waist, lining up his cock to your cunt and sinking on it, beomgyu letting out a broken mewl, he’s too sensitive but he doesn’t want you to stop at all. You begin to ride him, rolling your hips on his.

You’re starting to like this particular human. You like how he’s eager and lets you do whatever you want to him. Others haven’t been as fun. Men and their egos. This one’s also very mesmerising to look at, his features making him look like he was sculpted by the gods, you hate to admit. His reactions and moans so pretty as well. You’re tempted to keep him all only to yourself forever.

You pick up your speed significantly, riding him to oblivion, sounds of it all sticky and he’s a moaning mess, seemingly in a trance from how out of it he looks. You let your devil tail trail, moving to his face to caress it as he groans to the side, cheeks blushed.

It then slowly trails down his body along his neck and to his nipples where it continuously prods, pinching and playing with them. Beomgyu endlessly moans, gasps, whimpering and whining, any kind of sounds coming out of his mouth as you bounce wildly over his hips, up and down.

“Please…cum…need” The words not coming out of his mouth as his brain goes fuzzy and eyes get clouded, his moans increasing in octaves then his breath hitches and he spills all his cum once more.

You still continue to bounce on him erratically though, milking him of every drop he has as he spasms underneath you, overstimulated, he’s seeing stars and his ears ring from the unparalleled bliss he’s feeling. Is he gonna pass out?

“I’ll see you again soon. Sweet dreams~”

~~🌀🌀🌀~~

Beomgyu wakes up.

That was one heck of a wet dream…or hallucination…whatever it was. He feels sore and his legs kinda ache, pants soiled. He feels like a pubescent teenager again ew.

The breeze comes in through his window. He gets up to close it, seeing a trail of a glitter from the window to his roof. Huh. That’s weird.

PLEASE actually reblog and comment if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and nice if you do tysm !<3🙏💕😊 It’s discouraging when fics have such little reblogs 👎🤨

#beomgyu smut #txt smut #beomgyu x reader #sub!idol #sub!beomgyu #dom!reader #Kpop smut #sub txt #choi beomgyu smut #txt reactions #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #txt x reader #txt imagines #sub beomgyu #sub! idol

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dawnoftime22 · 5 months

Text

a constant sickness.

| N.R

Warnings: mental breakdown at the end, overthinking, being sensitive while horribly sick, mention of throwing up, headaches, r loves orcas(?)

Summary: While Nat was away at a SHIELD meeting, you had gotten sick once again. Having been sick for the millionth time in the past few months, you were tired.

Word Count: 6.4k

Category: Fluff, maybe a little hurt/comfort later on

A/N: I guess you could say this is a vent fic? I've been sick a lot, and it isn't fun, so I ended up making this. please drink water everyone and take care of yourself. love you all <3

| Started on 07/11/2023, 6:11 PM |

| Finished on 19/11/2023 8:07 AM |

Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

“darling, you have been so strong. so please,

lay down and let yourself rest for a while.”

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

The morning birds sang a beautiful song, and the gray sky filled up the room with light. It came along with the rain, the glass windows fogged up from the cold.

The place beside you was empty as you were curled up asleep, all cozy, but missing the touch of a certain redhead.

Soon enough, your eyes slowly open, blinking away your sleep for a few minutes. But you instantly notice the horrid, miserable feeling of a sore throat.

Of course. You had gotten sick again. And the exact day Nat has a meeting. Why couldn't you get sick yesterday? You thought. Or tomorrow, in fact, she's free almost all day for this week.

You shake your head to get your mind to stop before it goes crazy. It's far too early in the morning for this. You stretch, wanting to get your tense muscles loose once again, but doing so just made you feel more tired.

Having woken up alone, you sigh. If you hadn't felt so horrible, then your morning would've been great. But, well, there's nothing much you could do.

Your hands gently grab the soft orca plushie Nat had bought for you just sitting at the end of the bed. Seeing as she wasn't present at the moment, you hug it.

It was quite precious to you, really. Nat didn't know what to get you one anniversary day, and she had thought about how once, when an animal documentary was randomly on the tv, it had videos of orcas just swimming, and jumping. She was in the kitchen while you sat in the living room, laid down sideways as you watched with shining eyes on the screen, like a child.

The adorable sounds that sure, yes, was a terrifying sound for the other animals in the ocean, as they were killer whales, still made you love them nonetheless. Nat smiled at you when she set down the meal she just finished cooking on the table, and called you to eat.

The memory serves as a comfort of sort. You always loved how deep Nat thought about her gifts, and you're always grateful. It wasn't much, but to you, it was everything. Truly, you could never think of having a better girlfriend than her.

Not long after you continued staying comfortably in bed, cuddling up with the orca plushie, your nose began to clog up, making you unable to breathe properly.

The uncomfortable feeling had forced you to get up, and once you were, everything was back to normal. Almost. It's always so annoying having a stuffy nose. You begrudgingly and slowly get out of bed, careful to not make yourself dizzy by going too fast. The target of the tissue box was in your sights, and you somehow make it even with your low energy.

The tissue easily slides out of the box when you grab it, and you blow into it, clearing your nose a bit. After pulling away, you groan a little in disgust and the realization that you'll have to do this again after another few minutes.

You throw out the used tissue into a nearby trash can, and just when you thought of sitting in bed or slumping into the desk chair just to stare out the window to watch cars go by, your stomach feels too empty.

Welp. Your mouth forms a tired pout, but before your stomach could even make any noise at you for not moving to get some food, you grab a nearby jacket and put it on. The warmth it provided surrounded you with a feeling of comfort and safety. As it should, considering the jacket was on Nat's side of the bed. Honestly, you can't tell which one is Nat's or yours anymore with how much the two of you share with each other by now.

You start to make your way out of the bedroom, and into the living room, the curtains already being open since Nat had left when the sun came up, while you were still sleeping.

The house lacked her presence. With you taking a glance at the kitchen, you had hoped to see her red hair basking in the morning sunlight, yet nothing but the kitchen counters and cabinets looked back at you.

You blink away the tiredness and dizziness that started to cloud your vision, and you went over to the kitchen, arriving suddenly somehow. The first thing you grabbed was a cup of water, drinking it and wincing at it going down your aching throat. The feeling soon dissolves into an itch that made you cough once or twice. Well, at least you were more awake now.

Considering a lot of options were out of the view because of your throat, you settled for bread, seeing as it was the softest thing you could find at the moment. You almost shakingly set down the plate on the table, because of how weak your body started to be from the fever, but you grab your choice of spread to put on with a butter knife anyway. Even if being sick meant you were tired, you still needed something to eat, otherwise you'd just get sicker. It wasn't much of a choice, really.

Once you had your meal ready, you sat down at the dining table, taking a bite of your sandwich. Here goes the awful long, long chewing as you tried your best not to have your stomach throw up whatever thats left within it.

You grab your phone as you ate, turning it on and opening your messages app. You click on Nat's contact, your fingers drifting off to type in some words that your head can barely even make out to be a sentence from the little dizziness.

<- Nat <3 [◉¯]

hey Nat, I got sick again. do you think

you can come home quicker? :(

I miss you

Sent at 9:37 AM

hi, darling <3 you're sick again?

I'm sorry detka, the earliest I can

get back is at 4

I'll see if I can sneak off earlier, but

try to get comfortable and watch some

tv my love. have you eaten?

I'll get you some things before I get home too. message me if anything happens, okay? I miss you too, and I love you

Read at 9:38 AM

it's okay, you don't have to

rush if you can't

I'm eating some bread right now

so yeah, don't worry

I love you too <3 get home safe.

Read at 9:38 AM

She didn't have to rush. Right? No, of course not. Maybe a little. You just didn't want to worry her. If we're being completely honest, it's not really okay considering how sick you were and how you were all alone in the house.

Your face had a sad smile. Having checked the time, it's going to feel like forever until she was home. You're just going to have to distract yourself in the meanwhile, and hope this one doesn't make you feel like going through hell.

You turn off your phone and set it down on the table, finishing up the last of your piece of bread. Since there's not much else you could do in the kitchen anymore, you leave the plate and cup in the sink.

The fever wasn't horrible at the moment, but you could already expect what'll happen later in the day. You thought of the little work you still haven't finished yet though.

Throwing up your hands in exasperation to, no one in particular, you walk back to the bedroom, seeing the desk you usually sit at near the window. At least the skies weren't bright. And maybe the rain will even come back, if you're lucky enough.

There were papers already ready on it for you to check and go over, having been taken by you when you were at work before.

You sat down on yet another chair, and the window casts a light upon everything on the desk, also giving the old wood a glow.

At least you can swivel and spin around in your desk chair. You grab a pen laying around, but you didn't start until you played a playlist of slow peaceful songs from your phone.

Everything was going fine as time passed by, but you're starting to feel worse. The day might have gone to lunch or brunch time by now, but you weren't done yet. Probably due to the many times you've spaced out, or somehow more papers just kept spawning in out of nowhere. It always feels never ending until you actually finish it all.

To make matters worse, you even feel an incoming headache upon you. You're definitely not finishing up those remaining papers today, that's for sure.

You end up giving up and leaving them on the desk, walking back out to the living room and into the kitchen to take some pills, hopefully letting the headache pass.

Afterwards, your legs lead you away to grab the orca plushie, just to go back out and plop down on the couch, grabbing the tv remote to put on the first thing you thought of that would distract you from the awful sickness.

It's starting to hit you now. The jacket you wore started to feel a little too warm, causing you to take it off one arm and the other, letting it fall down on the couch.

You could feel the mucus in your nose go down to your throat without being able to stop it. Knowing it did that and even feeling it irked you. You start coughing, the sound obvious with sickness.

Thankfully it was a short cough, and your eyes continue to focus on the screen once more, the scenes playing relaxing you. Your tense muscles loosened a little at the coziness of the living room, even if your nose was being annoying, and your throat makes you cough. You wished Nat was here. So, so badly. But it was still only 12 PM. Even if you're functional, it doesn't mean you don't feel awful.

The noises coming from the tv was quiet. Enough so that you're able to feel dozy. And not in the headache, dizzy way this time fortunately. Your eyes go from being light, to feeling heavy. Your focus also started to include your breathing without meaning to.

Soon, you gave in, surrendering to the darkness that that lured you into sleep.

|—————————— ⴵ ——————————|

Nat arrives home with a bag full of items she had gotten for you. She takes off her shoes and puts the plastic bag on the kitchen island, careful not to make anything fall the wrong way. After she was done with that, she turns to the living room, hearing noises that she would only presume would be the tv, just faintly. She takes off her jacket as she goes, placing it on the couch when she was close enough.

That was when she saw you, all curled up on the couch with the plushie she got you. The sight made her adore you, but also make her feel sad. She would only ever see you like this when you were super sick and tired, or waiting on her to come home.

It's only happened a few times, but a few was enough to make her understand how your fevers feel. A lot of people would just go with their day and deal with it, but you weren't the type of person to be able to. It's not that you wouldn't, you just couldn't. It always had a high chance of taking you the worst.

What made things more concerning is that you're falling sick more often, it's leading to be not normal. Others would say it's the seasons, but with your experience, it really isn't. Nat just hopes your body only hates you at the moment, and you'll get a longer break sometime soon.

Her feet takes her to stand in front of you and kneel down, her hand going up to lay gently against your forehead. The warmness you radiated makes her frown.

Your breathing started to lessen its softness, and you start waking up, possibly either from her presence, the hand on your forehead, or your throat starting to feel dry. Probably all the above.

Your eyes flutter open, and there you see the redhead you love so much right in front of you. Her green eyes looked at you so softly as you registered the scene you awoke to.

"Hi, детка (baby). You feeling okay?" She asks softly, her fingers drifting away to gently pull your hair away from your face. Even when she spoke Russian, her voice was caring.

That was when you were so willing to break, just seeing her looking at you so softly made all your courage to stay strong from the sickness had faltered. But you tried keeping the tears in.

You shook your head fatiguely, your eyes still tired. She knew the answer, but she hoped the sleep brought you more relief. Instead you got the worser effects. It was a chance of either being worse or your throat magically being better.

"That's okay. I got you orange juice and soup, дорогой (darling)." the drink made your face brighten up a little, but the soup almost made you scrunch up your nose in an act of disgust.

"Well, you don't wanna throw up, do you?" Nat raises an eyebrow at you. Her voice was gentle, so it wasn't scolding and it wasn't a threat. Maybe a little bit of a threat, but you needed one considering you know you'll end up feeling nauseous if you don't eat. It's a miserable feeling, even if afterwards you'll be able to get whatever sickness it is out of your system, the process for it isn't great.

You purse your lips and shake your head, the memories of having to go through the nausea being horrible. She gives you a small smile, and moves to stand up.

Nat helps you slowly stand up with her, holding you up with her arms and letting you put a little of your weight on her as you walked. She didn't trust how dizzy you looked when you stood up. You wouldn't either, because the room looked like it was dancing just a little.

She sits you down on the dining table, going off to open the plastic bag and get out the contents within it. First and foremost, she opens the orange juice bottle and pours it in a cup for you, placing it in front of you on the table.

You try and take ahold of it as calmly as possible, but Nat smiles at the small excitement she sees at you being able to drink orange juice. The juice goes down your throat easily, basically almost clearing the germs in some way.

It somehow always helps, and you were relieved it did. Nat's gotten everything out the bag by now, and she's working away on cooking up a delicious chicken soup for you.

As you watched her move in the kitchen, humming a melody to herself every now and then, you slowly drank, trying your best not to finish all the orange juice before you eat. Thankfully you had breakfast down earlier, so there wasn't much air in your stomach or anything to get the nausea to come back.

The time was 2:45 PM. Nat really did sneak away from the SHIELD work somehow. She would do anything for you after all. Or, Fury and Maria had known and dismissed her. Yes, it may just be a fever, but it's been far too many times now to count, so you'd guess they were pretty concerned too. And there was only one redhead who could truly take care of you.

Nat sets down the bowl of soup gently on your side of the table, while on her side she places down a bowl of mac and cheese. One in particular, you know Yelena would love. Your thoughts were wandering with people, but you did just get a nap after all. You may not have felt better, but your mind did clear up a bit more.

"Can I have a bit?" You ask, your voice groggy from the sore throat, but it makes out the sentence. The cheesy, but not too cheesy mac and cheese stared at you like it would melt in your mouth. It was too tempting and seemed way too delicious to not have a taste.

"Sure. Only a little," She said, aware of the fact that the cheese would probably make you cough more.

Nat looks at you amused as you took a spoonful, knowing you wouldn't be able to resist a bite. She didn't really get it to tease you or anything though, she just almost kind of misses Yelena. And she hasn't eaten any mac and cheese in a while. Plus, the blonde had always made the best mac and cheese.

She's been away doing widow work combined with some other assassin work. Nat wasn't entirely sure, but the jokes she tends to make are definitely missed by you. Though, you love Nat's company, love and the comfort she provides by herself just as much.

When you finish the spoon of mac and cheese you had just eaten earlier, you start on your soup with a smile on your face, satisfied at the taste. Nat was relieved. Sure, she wasn't as good as Yelena. No one was, to be honest, but the way your lips are turned up means you approved.

Your throat ends up letting out a cough once more after you swallowed, making you clear your throat to try and get rid of it. When it didn't work, you drank your orange juice. And of course, like magic there was no more bacteria spluttering. Or well, you hope so in the minutes that go by.

"You know, Yelena got a dog." Natasha says, wanting something to distract you a little from your sickness. And she's been wanting to talk to you about it ever since she got a call from Yelena at work. You look up at her with surprise and excitement.

"What? Really? Can I meet it??" Your questions spilled out one after another, excitement filling up your entire body at the new information. She lets out a small chuckle at your happiness.

"Yeah, she's coming back in a week." She mixes around the cheese with the macaronis more, having finished a layer of the outside, she had gotten to the less cheesier parts.

"Does the dog have a name?" Yes, you were excited about the other widow coming back, but at the moment you were very much distracted on the dog part.

Nat's lips purse at the memory of Yelena telling her the name she gave it. "Fanny." She says, with no other comment. The name being taken from the time she was in hiding during the 'Civil War between Captain America and Iron Man', as people called it... Fanny Longbottom. God, did Mason really not have any other choice than that one? That was Nat's thoughts, anyway.

You, on the other hand, giggled a little, careful not to laugh too much, or you'd end up in a coughing fit. "I love it. It reminds me of you a bit."

"Don't even speak about it." Nat responds playfully. Her eyebrows furrows, while her lips turn up into a smile. She shakes her head. She should've expected Yelena would've done such a thing after telling her her undercover name.

You had to take a moment to gather yourself, almost completely laughing at the thought you just had. "At least she didn't choose 'Longbottom'."

She laughs, the sound like a melody to you. Something that can easily, oh, so easily make it so that the fever you have wasn't just complete hell. "Can you imagine?" Nat says.

"What if she did? If we ever had to take care of it while she was away, all you'd ever hear is 'Longbottom! Longbottoooom'." You act out a scene of you calling the dog, possibly while Yelena would come over or leave it to the two of you to take care of it.

"Which would be you adoring it. But yes, Fanny isn't bad." Nat raises her eyebrows on her first sentence, but agrees with you on the name choice.

"No, it would be both of us." You counter her, knowing there isn't only one animal lover in this household you're living in.

"Nope. I would be annoyed at Fanny getting all the attention." Her voice was soft at that point, somehow. Perhaps it accidentally tumbled out her mouth from her mind. Well, you were still focused on making her say she would practically spoil Fanny from how much she'll love the dog.

"Admit it. I know you adore Lucky at least, so! I'm not wrong here." The table goes quiet, the two of you finished with your food. But a thought clicks in your head at her last few words.

"Wait. Annoyed at Fanny getting all the attention? Do you mean you want my attention all on you instead?" It's quite obvious she would, considering you were the one she loves, and you love her, but you just like teasing her.

"...No. I just said I would be annoyed." She brushes it off, taking a sip of her own drink. Her face being completely and utterly normal. But you could clearly see the hint of lying from the way she sipped her drink while talking.

"Yes you did, and you had the attention part! Don't lie, Nat. I'm sick, but I can still have a great memory." You say, proud for having caught her. But the memory part is...partly true. She finished drinking and has the most adorable smile on her face.

"Okay, okay. You're obviously out of it. And now, we will go sleep." Nat gets up from her chair, shooting you a glance of 'we will never speak about it again or you are not getting cuddles' before picking up her empty bowl along with yours to go put them in the sink.

"Excuses, excuses!" You accuse her, a playful tone in your voice. But, you follow along with her, holding both yours and her empty cup.

You were about to help her do the dishes, but she protests to you about it. Even if you did puppy eyes or whatever, she would much rather have you getting some rest.

"Go lie in bed while I finish up here, yeah, любовь? (love)" She softly said. Her hands are on your waist, ready to stop you from turning back to face the sink.

"Okay." You quietly say, nodding your head a bit. She smiles at you before letting go of her hold on you, leaving you to turn and walk off to the bedroom.

Although you did spend most of your time on the couch just earlier, the cold started to take a toll on you and catch up with all thats left of your energy. Of course it was.

You tiredly and almost practically fell on the bed, the soft mattress welcoming your body. Just when you got comfortable, Nat comes walking in the room, holding up the orca plushie you forgot and left in the living room.

You looked up with realization, and reach out with your hands. Nat almost wanted to pull it away from you just to tease you back for the dining table incident, but that adorable face of yours made her relent. And she wouldn't wanna do such a thing when you're so sick anyway.

She lets you hold the soft plush while she got on her side, shuffling closer to you until she could cuddle you. You were expecting her to keep a small distance, considering you didn't really want to get her sick either, but when she pulled you closer, you end up putting the orca plushie just above your head on the pillow and putting your arms around her instead, craving her cuddles.

Her heartbeats gently thumps against her chest, echoing to your ears since you were so close to her. In the quietness of the room, only that, and the sound of both of your soft breathing could be heard. Only if you focused closely.

There was then, a tap against the roof. Nothing scary or creepy really, just a gentle tap. Then another, and it was a little thrumming that almost matched Natasha's heartbeat. Even she was a little confused, and her eyes were set on the ceiling. You know she would keep you safe all the time. But you thought the sound was familiar.

The tapping occurs more rapidly, and then it grows into a noise of which you can only identify as rainfall. It starts pouring outside, and the air starts getting chilly. But it was perfect.

Both you and Nat relaxes a little more at the sudden, but cozy background noise. You nuzzle against her neck in search for more of her warmth. She pulls the blanket up to cover more of your body, and lets her arms retreat back to the small of your back.

Soon enough the calmness of it all had your blinking go at a slow pace, now your eyelids falling down more to closing.

Surprisingly, your stuffy nose wasn't being annoying at the moment, but perhaps you had the cold temperature to thank for that. Your throat grew a little itchy though, so you looked away from Nat to not let the germs hit her, and let out a small cough to make it go away, hoping it doesn't get worse before you're asleep.

You turn back to the comfortable spot in the crook of her neck. Nat lays a gentle kiss on the side of your head, and that was when your eyes closed fully.

Seeing the state you were in when she got back home has her heart feeling a little heavy with concern, but she'll be beside you every second, no matter how long it takes for you to get better.

"Get better soon, мое маленькое солнышко (my little sunshine)." She whispers, slowly, and ever so softly. Only the rain responded back, but the feeling of your breathing against her was enough to let her fall asleep along with you.

|—————————— ⴵ ——————————|

It was 3:35 AM. The rain outside was still ongoing, but it was a calmer, less noticeable rainfall.

You were awoken with a coughing fit, lasting a minute or so. You try to hold it in after a short break, the trapped air wanting to break out of your throat. Fortunately, or, well, unfortunately, Nat was still asleep, somehow. You'd guessed the meeting yesterday took her energy out a lot.

Not wanting to wake her, you slowly untangle yourself from her embrace, and crawl out of bed, all the while taking a few deep breaths not to go into another coughing fit. But of course, by the time you quietly leave the room, one was bound to happen once more as you make your way to the kitchen.

You open a cupboard and grab a glass, careful to make sure your grip was strong enough. After pouring yourself a glass of water and taking a sip, you sigh. The moment of it becoming worse came sooner than you expected. But that just means being sick will pass by just as quick. Or, you desperately hope it will.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Nat started opening her eyes to cold sheets, and her embrace was empty of any sign of you. She awoke more as she blinked. To see no sight of you as she looked around made her get out of bed quicker than being late to work has ever made her.

When she goes out the bedroom, she sees you standing in the kitchen, your shoulders tense from coughing so much. But relief flowed through her body when you appeared in her vision.

Concern came next. She snuck her hands in her pockets at the coldness the living room had to offer. She was missing the warm blankets, but she was also missing you. And you were her top priority at the moment, not to even add the given situation that's happening right now.

The sound of your awful coughing echoed to the walls and back to her ears distantly. "You didn't wake me." Her voice huskily sounded out, and you just about heard it from the horrible hell your body was giving you. Thankfully, you weren't surprised and didn't go into fight or flight mode or anything.

She walks closer until you were only centimeters away from each other. "Sorry." you whisper to her, your voice raw from your throat being so sore. One row of coughs lead to another, and soon it's the endless miserable feeling while Nat rubbed your back.

You stare off at the marble counter for a bit after opening your eyes at the two second break, trying to recollect your breathing and not cough again by taking deep breaths, but it barely helps. Natasha reaches her arm over to the side counter just next to the both of you, and grabs the water filled glass you had earlier, holding it up for you.

You had your hands gripping the marble counter in front of you, your eyes drags itself down to see the glass cup. You let go of the edge and hold the cup instead, taking a quick sip before coughing again. You slowly drank your water until your lungs calmed down.

Nat's arms go down to go around your waist, pulling herself closer to the back of your body to place her face near your neck. You could feel her nose brushing against your skin just slightly, giving you a sense of comfort.

"You want me to make you some tea?" her voice softly whispers out into the darkness while you set your empty glass down. She knows medicine is the last thing you'd want at the moment, and knowing you, you would simply say it doesn't help. And it really didn't feel like it did with how many times you've gotten sick.

You gently nod, and her eyes watches your movement. Her hand slides down to hold one of yours, squeezing it, while her other hand goes up to open a cupboard. She moved beside you to grab a teabag and a mug, then when she had to move away to grab some water and pour it to heat up in a kettle, her hand had left yours lonely.

Since she's waiting on it to warm up now, she turns to face you, her back leaning against the counter. You go closer to her, finding her hand once more. You rested your head against her chest and her free hand holds your back, surrounding you with warmth.

The minutes go by with the two of you staying in that embrace, a peaceful quietness upon the room.

"You okay?" she asks softly, as if the whole world was about to fall apart if she spoke any louder, and to you, it almost felt like so. But that was until she held you in her arms.

You couldn't tell. There wasn't a name to the feeling. Exhaustion? Maybe. You didn't give her an answer, you only held her tighter.

She understands that words may not be the best choice for you right now, and so, she pulls back slightly, but keeps a fair distance enough to not make you pout at the loss of closeness. She takes in every feature on your face. Though you may be sick, you were still the most adorable human being to her, and since you were so quiet, she takes her chance to show her love instead.

The redhead has a small smile on her face, just before she leans in to lay a kiss on the tip of your nose. The action leaves you a little stunned, because you thought she was only admiring you, but it warmed your heart either way. And then, a kiss on your forehead. At this point, she wants to get sick.

But then, she turns back around to the counter, her back now facing you. The water had heated up now, so she pours it from the kettle to the mug.

She grabs the teabag she had placed nearby earlier, and dips it into the hot water, letting it sink and soak. As that's happening, she goes ahead and grabs a spoon of sugar or so then carefully adds it into the tea, stirring it and just ever so slightly pressing on the teabag with the spoon to get it out quicker.

Once she was done she slowly spins around, making sure the hot mug wasn't anywhere close to hitting you. She then steadily makes her way back to the bedroom, with you beside her. You were careful not to accidentally bump into her either. The two of you kept focus on keeping the dangerous burning tea in the mug.

When you arrive at the bedroom, Nat places it on the bedside table, letting out a breath she unknowingly kept in. Mission accomplished. Yes, she was a trained assassin, and yes, she's an avenger, but sleep can really get to you with losing focus and a chance of spilling a drink...especially when it's dark at night like this. Well, at least the bedroom has some dim lighting on. It's dim, but not dimmer than the soft kitchen lights.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Nat to sit beside you. When she does, she's holding the mug in her hands, blowing air to the tea to cool it down for you.

You could do it yourself, both you and the widow knew that, but considering she took the opportunity to do it for you first, you let her. Plus, the way her eyes are so focused on the ripples its causing in the liquid to make it drinkable is adorable.

You wait patiently until she slowly gives the mug over to you, keeping an eye on your fingers that you put around the handle while she holds parts of it that wasn't boiling, making sure it won't fall out of either of your hands.

You take a small sip at first, and when the temperature felt okay to you, you drink it slowly, taking breaks so your body would be able to cool down.

The hot air comes out in a breath from your mouth, The warmness of the tea going down your throat filling your body with relief and relaxation.

Once you've finished after a few more minutes, Nat had been reading a book, while at the same time keeping an eye on you. You place the mug on the bedside table, and took a glance back at Nat.

She looked so worried, so tired still because she had only gotten a small amount of rest. You started thinking on how she was taking care of you, and you wished this sickness would just stop.

The way she looks up from the pages filled with ink, just to show you a smile for you finishing the tea, it hit you just as much as the other times that you got really lucky.

What if you deserved the sickness? All this good couldn't have come without a cost...right? Wrong, darling. Nat puts the book down on her bedside table, opening her arms for you to sit within.

You still had work to be finished. The events that's happened in the past week, even the small ones couldn't leave your mind, while for others, it had been easily forgotten. You should be doing more, you thought.

But you were trying. The best you could. Nat could see that, and almost everyone else could see if they knew how to simply look into a human's eyes. You were just too soft for all of it.

She only wants you to get better. Everything else didn't matter. Even Fury, Maria, and Yelena is probably worrying about you right now.

It's all crashing down. You were in her arms, and she places a gentle kiss atop your head. Her fingers gently danced at your back, drawing meaningless patterns.

Your face seemed tired, and her heart ached at the thought of how much you're suffering. You were tired, that was for sure. It was sickness after sickness, almost every week or month. You just wanted a break.

It's a vicious cycle. Sure, you kept yourself feeling great with jokes and little happy moments, but it didn't mean the worse ones weren't gonna come bite you again at random times.

You move closer into the crook of her neck, your eyes glazed over, and you couldn't have noticed it unless the moonlight had hit your eyes. When Natasha feels tears going down her neck and down to seep into her shirt, she pulls you in closer.

"Oh, милая (sweetheart)." You tried. You tried really hard to keep it inside, but a broken sob leaves your mouth at her soft and caring tone. You've been going through so much, and she knows that, even if its small things, too.

It hurt. It really did. Your throat, the headache you get every now and then, and mentally, you weren't doing all that well either. But she holds you safely, as much as she could. And that's just all you need.

"It's okay. You'll be okay." she whispers softly. Your body shakes with the emotions you held from the past. Her hand trailed up your body just to slide it down to your lower back once more. Her other hand, has her thumb rubbing the skin just below your neck, the little movement assuring you that she was there, as she always has been, and will continue to be.

It went on for a while until you were able to calm down, only dissolving into small bur sharp intakes of breath going in your liver from all the sobbing. You went quieter with each deep breath you took, Nat along with you because she knew you could feel her breathing against you, so she does deep breaths to help you fall into the same pace as her.

She goes back to normal breathing after your little hiccup sounding noises were gone. Your eyes had closed, exhausted from everything, and the way her thumb was still going forth in an up and down motion near your neck helps into making you fall asleep.

Nat looks down on your sleeping figure, glad that you were able to get your emotions out fully, and still get your sleep in. You deserved the whole world, the galaxy, and still more than that.

She leans down, whispering a soft "I love you," just near your ear before turning off the lamp and going to sleep herself.

|—————————— ⴵ ——————————|

Bonus! - in the morning... :]

The blankets were a jumbled mess, but it still kept the both of you warm, and somehow had no little holes that the cold could sneak into.

She continues to read her book with the fairy lights she turned on on the bedpost helping her see the words written. The redhead awoke just a few minutes ago, and she would be doing her morning routine or getting breakfast ready by now, but with you on her body, getting the rest you needed, she didn't have it in herself to move.

The soft orange light from the bedroom bouncing off the walls blends with the blue sky, making itself known by going through the windows and illuminating a part of the room.

Nat had forgotten to close the curtains the night before, having been too preoccupied in taking care of you. But even so, just seeing the scene coming alive in front of her makes her feel a little more at peace.

You, too, seemed much more at peace.

------------------

A/N: If you look closely you could notice sweet nothing by taylor hidden throughout this <3

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@notevenanna @ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @justanotherteenpoet @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @natsbraids-deactivated20231115 :( @animealways @natashasilverfox @wandsmxmff

#🥀 dawn’s collection #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff comfort

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namu-the-orca · 1 year

Photo

Here it finally is, the full cetacean eye colour info sheet! A long time coming, and an even longer time in the making. I hope that all you cetacean eye curious people will find this one as fascinating as the killer whale eye colour post. It’s a wild world out there!

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blackopals-world · 1 year

Text

Unconventional Proposals part 2

Part 1

Yuu x Vice Wardens edition

Twisted Wonderland might have its own courting traditions but Yuu might not be from our world. What if they are the one with strange traditions?

Trey- Anyone Can Cook

This isn't fair. Trey literally has his fic already about his proposal. So I'm cheating and linking it here. Sorry, just saving time.

Ruggie- Engraved

Ever tradition is weird when you think about it. This one was no different. When you like someone you carve them a pendent out of Stone or wood. If they accept and wear it you are bound together.

Yuu picked stone knowing the process would take longer to make. The traditional way was to take a cloth and rub the stone until it was smooth while carving a shape. Like the ocean over rocks.

Ruggie had noticed Yuu work on the totem for months and had asked them if they needed help. Yuu denied.

On the day Yuu presented the carving they was given a pendant in return. Ruggie didn't know about the special meaning but he was inspired by Yuu to make a present for them anyways. It was a wood carving of a hyena. They gladly accepted.

Jade- Whale of a Time

A true warrior knows how to prove their love. Leagues deep in the frozen waters they dive to steal the ocean's bounty, a black fish tooth. To prove yourself it must be presented to your true love.

Yuu is armed with a spear, knife, net, and the determination to subdue a killer fish. They had trained their whole life for the moment they would rip the teeth out of the whale's mouth.

Gleefully they presented the blood-stained tooth to Jade. He was actually very flattered by it. The show of strength was very attractive to him. Eels don't court for long and Yuu's tribe didn't have time for lengthy rituals in their frozen lands. They were a couple instantly.

Jamil- Fine Print

"Your future husband must be clever. His eyes sharp. And his mind clear. When you dance he must see only you." Their mother would say.

Yuu understood what she meant as they watched another young woman dance across the stage. Her skin was painted in beautiful curving patterns, unlike the young man who went before. His skin was painted in sharp zig-zagging formations.

Each design had a special hidden message in them. Usually, it was the initials of their chosen partner hidden deep within. If they spotted it then it would mean that they had eyes only for them because they watch the dancer's every movement to be sure.

Yuu wanted to get their message across though so they painted a long winding serpent from their hand to coiling around their torso to the other leg. Within the serpent was 'J.V' written in gold. If Jamil did see it they'd see it as a win(even if they were cheating a bit)

During Kalim's party they performed the serpent's dance dressing in red silks and the only clue that Jamil noticed was him spitting his drink while they disrobed to begin.

He noticed alright and couldn't decide if he wanted everyone else to notice too. It was such a bold declaration of wanting to be his. How could he say no?

Rook- One Jump Ahead

The jungle was harsh and without mercy. A capable hunter is the most desired partner. One who can spot a jaguar in the trees, and hunt boars without them noticing. One who can provide premium meat and herbs for their marriage banquet.

They must put them to the test. Hunter against prey.

Yuu had their eyes on a particular hunter. Tempting Rook to chase was child's play. Leaving items in his path in a bid to get him to return them worked. Rook caught on quickly as the lost items became calling cards to look for Yuu.

One morning he found a letter on his window with a letter of love.

"𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮.♡"

He needed little convincing as he tracked the elusive Yuu. They were very good a remaining undetected but the trail led to the woods. For an entire day, the game of cat and mouse and Yuu got sloppy. They snapped a twig while climbing and Rook heard. The game had been won and Rook proved to be a superior hunter. And as the loser the rules were set in stone. Yuu would be the prize won.

Lilia- Salt-crusted Dreams

The seers and soothsayers have their ways. Their lives are ruled by stars and visions. That is how Yuu's people have lived since that days man had no answers to the stars and fate. Every day Yuu drew their cards to see what fate had in store, but that day, in particular, was interesting. The lovers were upright, the fool was raising, the star shines brightly, the tower is revered and the hanged man was longer doomed. It spelled good things.

The answer was simple to Yuu. Today was the day. New love was very near and a fated pair will be made. Don't resist and cause strife to oneself, you've already ovoid one disaster so don't make another. The cards can never leave them be with all their ominous warnings even if it's good news.

Yuu knew it was time as they began preparing their family recipe. Whenever a youth wanted to know who their soulmate was a loaf of salty bread was baked. It was to be eaten before sleep. Whoever comes to them in their dreams and offers them water would be their soulmate.

Nothing could prepare the seer for who appeared no matter what they believed. It was Lilia of all beings.

Yuu's family is as close to the fae as they are to the stars. The line was thin between the realms and few walked it.

Donning their robes Yuu approached the bat fae.

"Oh ho? A fortune teller approaches. It must be fate." He gestured Yuu to sit with him.

Yuu nodded and told him it was a matter of fate. They would like to give them a reading.

The reading yielded an expected result. The cards all matched their own. The odds to improbable it could only be fate.

"It seems it was written in the stars."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi #rook hunt x reader #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #trey clover x reader #jamil viper #trey clover #jade leech

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madlad-sadgal · 9 months

Text

Y'all liked it so here's a few more things I noticed in my watching of Nimona (again).

Nimona Spoilers!

We get a small section of Ball's innocence wall, and we see that his primary suspect is none other than Thodeus "Todd" Sureblade. Also, Blackheart is used everywhere, most likely as a nod to the comic, but also as what the media has dubbed this new villain, as we do as a society in real life. Giving certain famous serial killers names is an example.

Nimona did some drawings and said it was because she wanted her resume to pop, but it was most likely because she can't write or read as no one really took the time to explain it or teach her.

"Lay low until we RISE LIKE A FIERY PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES TO OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT!" Nimona not only spoiled her shifting into a phoenix to save the realm from the canon, but also her coming back (rising from her ashes like a phoenix)

We get another shot of Bal's innocence wall, and there we see a place where he circled in red "Who has the ressources for a laser like that?" And honestly, to me, it reminded me of what the canon did, which would explain the Director, since she clearly has access to the canons. The laser in Bal's sword, the laser in her staff, and finally the laser from the canon. Everything was her.

The Director was most likely acting overly dramatic when talking to Bal because she wanted to reinforce the guilt, and maybe even gaslight him into thinking it was his fault.

As the Director is leaving, we can see Nimona sneaking in as a mouse in the bottom left corner.

When we see the beat up knights, in the upper left corner, you can see a knight stuck in a vending machine, which I just found funny.

The light reflecting off Nimona's eyes, indicating her clear difference from everyone else.

When Nimona throws her axe, it hits a knight in the background who then falls off a ledge and falls down a few stories, so she may have actually killed someone.

We can clearly see Ambrosius go through so many emotions when he sees Bal again; relief that he's alive and he didn't kill him, guilt for his arm when he glanced at the prosthetic, confusion when Nimona calls him Nemesis, and surprise when she drags Bal away. Also, when she drags him into the closet, we get a short shot of Ambrosius half way through unsheathing his sword.

Bal's "Did you see the way he looked at me?" Being a parallel to Nimona's "Did you see the way that little girl looked at me?"

Nimona quite literally rips a pole in half and bends it over the door to keep it closed, showing a great amount of strength.

The "You're gonna die in this closet!" Joke that we all catches but I still wanted to point out because it's funny.

As Nimona is falling through the floors as a whale, she tells us that Todd canonically has a small dick ("Cold in here?")

I saw this pointed out once, but still wanted to as well, but Nimona says that she spruced up the Lair by making it more evil, but she quite literally adds Christmas lights, showing her childish side.

When we get another shot of the new murder wall, we can see the picture of Todd again, except Nimona drew a fist punching him in the face.

That's what I have so far. Might do more if y'all like this!

#nimona #nimona movie #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #ballister x ambrosius #director

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darkworkcourier · 1 year

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i have a request: after realizing the reader has a crush on him ghost teases her, at first just by gazes, later by words and touched and eventually makes her come by rubbing her trough her panties

so i'm working on a follow-up to this fic where ladybird gets railed in a hotel (like she deserves), but this prompt inspired me to get her into the mile high club. this is shorter than what i'm used to writing, but i hope you like it! :D

contains: through-the-panties fingering, quickies in the bathroom discussion of public sex, and price being way too into nature documentaries.

---

The 141 is flying coach, and—in a word—it sucks.

There's a reason, like always. You're all assigned to carefully monitor a red-eye flight from Boston Logan Airport to London Gatwick on trusted intelligence regarding a potentially dangerous agent onboard. You've read the file (now six going on seven times, nearly beating out how many times you've read the in-flight magazine and the safety card), knowing that this agent—known informally and hilariously as Red Sox—is Kastovian. She's posed as a Bostonian businesswoman for months now, and your instructions are to confirm her role in a recent cybersecurity incident at an international bank. With any luck, you'll get the evidence and have her arrested the moment she gets off the plane.

Until then, you're stuck in the middle seat of the middle aisle in a 787, fighting with a granola bar that refuses to open, half-watching whatever godawful action movie Soap's entertained by on his in-flight screen. He's enjoying himself, though, feeding himself a package of peanuts with the gusto of a man eating caviar.

At least someone's having fun.

Gaz and Price are four rows ahead of you, and Gaz has the luck to have a window seat. You've walked by them twice as you've gone to the lavatory out of sheer boredom. It's all sunshine, roses, Netflix, and podcasts up there, apparently. Sure, they have eyes on Red Sox, but apparently it's much more important for Price to finish his nature documentary ("Jesus Christ, have you seen how much a whale shits? Nature's incredible!") before you all do your jobs.

Ghost is the luckiest, you think. He's in business class, with leg room and hot towels and a seat that isn't actively trying to fold him up like he's in a mousetrap. He's also closest to Red Sox, quietly muttering through the comms whenever she gets up or gets something from one of the flight attendants. He sounds bored as hell, though.

"She's getting a— bloody fucking hell, who gets decaf coffee on a red eye?" Ghost grumbles through your headset. His voice is low, sending tingles through your body and making you wish he was next to you instead of Soap—currently guffawing in every sense of the word at something in his stupid movie.

You hear Gaz snort. "Who gets decaf, period? Gross."

There's a brief pause before you hear Price's awestruck voice. "Did you fucking know that killer whales can chomp a penguin in half? What the actual fuck? Why do we keep these little bastards in zoos?"

"The penguins or the orcas?" Gaz asks, even though he's sitting right next to Price and probably looking at his phone screen. Then, he confirms he is when he utters a disgusted, "Oh, nasty. Why are they showin' that on a documentary?"

At the same time, Soap slaps his knee like a grandpa, nudging you in the ribs with his elbow before snickering and gesturing to his screen where a man is yelling at... you think it's a goat. No way to know what that has to do with exploding cars or paragliding.

You lean back in your seat and groan, rubbing your eyes. "Ghost, please tell me you're having a semi-productive night," you say.

"If by 'productive', you mean carefully analyzing dinner choices and how many copies of 'Tatler' this woman brought with her, then sure," he responds dryly.

"Beef or chicken?"

"Fish," he says.

"Oh, she's definitely a spy," Gaz says. "Decaf and fish. There's something wrong with her."

That's the sum total of your work so far. You briefly glance at the time on the screen in front of you—you still have four and a half hours.

For lack of anything better to do, and abandoning your fight against the granola bar, you turn your focus back to the main object of your thoughts for the past few months. It's not easy to think of Ghost while you're crammed in a tiny seat and sandwiched in between Soap and a snoring British businessman, but you let your mind wander a little bit in Ghost's direction.

Since your crush came to light, he's opened up to you, allowing you to get close enough until you felt tidally locked to him. He's shown you Simon Riley, Manchester born and bred, with a love of bourbon, vinyls, and old camping equipment that he collects the same way people gather stamps or glassware. He's revealed all sorts of quirks and tells, drawing you in further, yet keeping just enough distance for the sake of professionalism.

But for days before this flight, Ghost's teased you relentlessly, in ways you never expected from him—glancing touches on your shoulders and back as he passes you in the hallway, pressing his thigh against yours when you do manage to sit next to him at a meeting, fingers brushing against yours when you pass something to him or vice versa. And he knows what he's doing, because Ghost never moves without intent. Every stray touch lights up your nerves like fairy lights, and he is completely aware of it.

Touches like that might not seem relentless, but in the gap between them are his words—again, carefully chosen. The man's got a way with double meanings and innuendos, all woven into his normal speech so well that no one seems to notice. He'll lock into eye contact with you, then say things to Price, Gaz, or Soap about erecting defenses or pointing the finger of suspicion. Bastard knows exactly what he's about. He knows it's been driving you crazy for weeks.

Those thoughts start to get something stirring in you, which is frankly a terrible thing to have happen on an airplane. Apparently, all your bad thoughts are mile-high ones, and before you start rubbing your legs together like a cricket for Soap to notice, you excuse yourself to the lavatory again.

Squeezing by Soap and his godforsaken tendency to manspread, you catch him grinning at you as he takes one of his AirPods out. "Goin' somewhere exciting, Ladybird?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, gesturing to one of the emergency doors. "Thought I'd test one of those slides out."

"Oooh, fun," Soap says, all cheeky. His brows go up, and you feel what he's going to say before he says it. "Thought you'd be payin' a visit to a businessman up front. He seems lonely up there."

God, you wish.

You stand in the aisle beside Soap for a second, willing your legs to wake up and ignoring the wash of pins and needles through your skin. "Nah, I think he likes being by himself," you say. "Obviously he's not chomping at the bit to watch nature documentaries or visit with us."

"No," Soap agrees, tucking a hand behind his head and grinning up at you. "But I dinnae think he'd say no to you visiting him." At that, he wiggles his brows suggestively, then breaks into a wide smile that has you rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, no, I'm leaving now," you tell him, turning on heel to limp your way to the lavatory on a very wobbly-feeling right leg. You can hear Soap laughing at your back, and you think you hear the words 'mile high club'—better to ignore it.

The lavatory's full when you get there, so you lean against the wall and wait, arms crossed over your chest, fighting back a yawn. The plane wiggles with a little turbulence. Someone coughs nearby. Someone else turns off their overhead light.

Then the lavatory door opens and— yeah, that's Ghost looking down at you.

He's dressed in a disarmingly casual way. He's ditched the balaclava in favor of a black disposable mask and a beanie pulled down low. You're both pleased and distressed that you recognize his hoodie (one that you've stolen before to dart between his room and yours and briefly considered stealing for good), although the jeans are new.

In turn, he looks over you, a faint flicker of something in his eyes that makes a familiar, raw heat already start to form in your gut.

"Ladybird," he says with a nod.

"Ghost," you reply.

It feels like an old cowboy movie standoff, except there's less than a foot of room in between the two of you. Someone has to move—preferably him, because you kind of do need to use the lavatory now. There's a stretch of tension, of an invisible band being pulled before—

Ghost suddenly looks left, then right, and then his hand is on your wrist, tugging you back into the lavatory and closing the door behind you before you can even comprehend what's happened. As soon as the lock clicks into place, the overhead light blinks on, filling the tiny, tiny space with watery white light.

It smells like Clorox wipes and diapers, which is not conducive to anything sexy until Ghost is practically pressed up against you, an arm wrapped around your waist. In another too-quick movement, his mask is pulled down beneath his chin, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is hungry. His tongue finds yours immediately, and in between deep kisses, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. It's ravenous—starving. His free hand goes up to your jaw, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

He kisses you like you haven't seen or touched each other in months. Like he's not the one keeping a perfectly professional distance, maintaining the hierarchy of command while torturing you with words and touches. Suddenly, the hand on your waist moves and goes up under your t-shirt, up and up over your stomach to your bra, fingers brushing over one rapidly-stiffening nipple while you moan quietly against his mouth.

For fuck's sake, Soap was right about the mile high club. You wouldn't be surprised if he texted Ghost the suggestion.

Ghost tilts his head back enough to talk, although you feel every syllable against your lips. "Wanna touch you," he mutters, half-lidded eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"Do it," you whisper back. The urgency is there, knowing you only have a short amount of time and the smallest bit of elbow room to work with.

The hand on your breast descends quickly, and with it, your body feels like it goes into an uncontrolled downward spin, dizzy with the thought of what you're doing. Ghost's hand slips under the band of your—

"Pajama pants? Really?"

You glare up at him, although all the heat is redirected southward. "They're comfy, and it's a long flight," you retort.

He breathes out a laugh that fans over your cheek before he kisses you again, just as his fingers go down and rub against your cunt through the thin cotton of your panties. It makes you gasp against him, even at a slight, barely-there touch. But his touch transmutes into something stronger and more insistent, rubbing your slit, the fabric helping to build friction.

"Oh, fuck," you whisper, staggering a little and leaning on his shoulder for support. You feel him press a finger against your clit, setting off a charge that darts lightning-quick up your spine. One of your hands claps over your mouth to stifle a moan.

Ghost laughs, a low rumble that seems to vibrate right through you, matching frequencies with the electricity currently pulsing through your whole damn nervous system.

"Been wantin' to do this all week," he mutters into your ear as his index finger slides over your clit.

Your voice fights to catch a foothold in your throat, hoisting itself up into your mouth in a strain. "I-in an airplane lavatory?" you manage, although the joke is lost on another moan that you have to hide in the fabric of his hoodie.

He hums this time, and it's almost thoughtful. "Sure," he says. His fingers slide back, pressing the soaked fabric of your panties against your opening in the most teasing way. You're tempted to just pull everything down and let him take you over the tiny stainless steel sink. But he goes on, "Back at base. Kitchen, office, common area. Don't really care."

Holy fuck, the idea of Ghost taking you in any of those places sends another little shock through your system and turns that inner coil tighter. You shudder, gasping as he rubs his fingers back and forth. You cling onto him, fingers in a vise grip on his hoodie, face tucked against his shoulder as he draws your climax up to the surface quicker than you've ever felt it rise.

"Wait until we get to London," he says, his voice low and hot in your ear. "I know at least five places where I can fuck you in view of a whole damn street an' no one will know we're there."

That promise alone and all the mental images it conjures are enough to send you right over the edge, burying your cry in fleece and shuddering against his hand as you rock your hips against him. You hear him whispering encouragements to you, to use him to get off, to come for him. You do, using all that friction and that sense of taboo of what you're doing now as a springboard for your pleasure. It's not the hardest you've come (and Ghost certainly has the honor of achieving that), but it's the fastest—almost embarrassingly quick. You hit the heights, the upper ceiling of your personal atmosphere, and try to catch your breath as you fall back into an oxygen-rich level.

Ghost draws his hand back while you lean on him for support as your legs threaten to give out entirely. You hear and feel him laugh again, and then he's pressing a rolled-up piece of toilet paper into your hand.

"Kind of soaked there, love," he says, and it's all fondness—maybe a little bit of pride.

"Who's fault is that?" you say, your voice hoarse and tired. Still, you make use of the paper, reaching in to wipe up at least some of the dampness. And—well, fuck, you're going to have to sit with that for another four hours. Gross.

Ghost presses a kiss to your temple, and you lean into it instinctively.

"I'll make it up to you in London," he promises.

You have a better idea.

---

You squeeze past Soap again, inwardly groaning as you sit down and feel dampness between your legs. It's three hours and forty-eight minutes until Gatwick. Three hours and forty-eight minutes of sitting in wet panties while trying to apprehend a criminal on a 787. Nevermind that your orgasm sent enough endorphins through your system to maybe get a good nap in.

Then, beside you, Soap laughs. You feel a tug on your sleeve, and look over to see him grinning at you.

"Nice hoodie," he says. "Is it new?"

You smile and nestle yourself into the fabric, still warm from Ghost's skin. "Sort of," you reply.

#cod: mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #soap as a wingman part 2!#idk what ladybird's whole deal is yet but i do love her #there's like a vague plot from another fic i'm working on that i just used as mini-exposition #mostly i just wanted a reason for all of them to be on an airplane

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ninoxwof · 9 months

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Orca the Seawing (Fun fact: Orcas are known for being whale killers for a reason! I drew Orca based around the real life animal and her mother Coral inspired off of humpback whales completely without that thought in mind, so although it was originally unintentional it makes for good symbolism I suppose!) [Image ID: A drawing of a dark green seawing dragon with blue eyes named Orca. She has a stalk with an esca on it, coral like horns and fins on her front legs, chest, and neck resembling that of orca fins. She also has two fins on her chin. Her bioluminsecent scales are a light offwhite green and they mainly appear on her legs, and on her eyes in oval like and tear shaped patterns. She has wave-like swirls as well on her wings signifying she is seawing royalty. She is standing with one arm raised as animous magic comes from her palm and she's grinning smugly. /.End ID]

#wof arc 1 #wof #wings of fire #wof fanart #dragon #wof orca #royalty #seawing royalty #seawing #my faves

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katborg82 · 2 months

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Gentoo (jen-too) Penguins (Pygoscelis papua) are a species of brush-tailed penguin, recognizable by the patch of white feathering above their eyes. These marine birds can be found in parts of South America and Antarctica. Like other penguins, Gentoos are flightless birds, adapted instead for marine life. They are the fastest swimming penguins, able to reach speeds up to 22 mph.

Gentoo penguins live in large colonies on land, and take to the cold antarctic waters in search of food. They mainly feed on shrimp and krill, but sometimes hunt fish and even cephalopods. The ocean is a very dangerous place for them, however. Their main predators are leopard seals, sea lions, and killer whales.

#gentoo #penguins #birds #bird #bird art #animals #animal #animal art #evolution #dinosaur #dinosaurs #zoology #art

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adarkrainbow · 5 months

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Hello! Love your ogre research, first of all. So something weird here, in my English translation of Ariosto the monster that threatens Angelica (the orca) is translated as “sea orc”, and the blind ogre who acts like Polyphemus (the orco) is translated as “land orc”. (And by extension “sea orc” evolved into a dragony thing in some modern fantasy books). Any idea why that happened instead of just calling them “orca” and “ogre” or something?

Ah yes the Orlando Furioso. I meant to include this in my big "What makes an ogre" series but never got the time.

So... I have to admit I am not an expert on Italian language, especially old fashioned Italian language, and I also am no expert on the full Orlando Furioso (it is a very complex work I only got started on recently). But here's the thing...

It is well-known that the Orlando Furioso was put together by taking elements of Greco-Roman mythology and reinventing them completely. The Orco and Orca are this. The Orco is basically Polyphemus reinvented - but here with two eyeballs made of bone instead of one eye promptly gouged out. The Orca meanwhile is the sea-dragon of the Andromeda story given a new name. So far so good.

But "Orca" is not meant to evoke the sea animal of the same name, the "killer whale", and that's something everybody has to remind people of (even the Wikipedia article for the Orca in Italian points out it is NOT the "orca" as in the sea creature). Orca is used here as the male form of "orco" - and the "orco" is indeed the same name of creature used by Basile to designate his proto-ogres. The "uercos", which is just "orcos" spelled differently.

So should we translated "Orco" as "ogre" and "Orca" as "ogress"? Well... No, it wouldn't work. At least for the Orco it can work since he sports typical ogre traits and DID influence the rise of the ogre figure in France (I don't think it is a random choice if madame d'Aulnoy's ogres are cyclops). But the Orca clearly isn't the same kind of creature - it is a sea dragon, or a sea monster, or some big sea snake. So this hints at the fact that "orco/orca" doesn't actually translated, in the context of the Orlando, as "ogre"...

You see, by Basile's Pentamerone, the "orco" is clearly an "ogre" in the fairytale sense of the word - though some English translators decided to go for "ghoul" because they didn't understand why an ogre would have magical powers, unaware that ogres were originally sorcerers/fairies of their own rights. They preferred to evoke the shapeshifting Arabian demons, allowing for an easier explanation of "Oh yes the ogre turns into all sorts of animals and curses people when it can't eat them".

[Note: As I write this I realized "orchi" is apparently the plural of "orco"? Well... I'll keep calling them "orcos" for now, but another proof I am not expert when it comes to these things]

But the author of the Orlando Furioso seems to have had a different and more ancient meaning in head for "orco". If you ask me, what seems very likely (though I am no expert) is that "orco"/"orca" is here taken as meaning "man-eating monster". Not just a fairytale ogre, but any kind of creature that wants to devour human beings. As a result the "orco" is an ogre-like giant, while the orca is a sea monster-dragon. "Orco/a" is used in the same broad sense as how "fairy" could be used in the British Isles to refer to all sorts of creatures, or yokai in Japan - or at least, that's what it seems to me. This is probably why the translator chose to prefer the term "orc", more neutral and evoking the older roots and mysterious figures behind the word "orc" before Tolkien made it famous. Calling the sea creature "orca" feeds the confusion with the killer whale ; while calling the land monster "ogre" might remove the idea that he is another form of the sea creature met earlier. One could keep the cohesion by having "ogre / ogress" but it would be mistranslating to call the sea monster "ogress" when it is clearly not just a female version of the land creature. So ultimately I think this is why the terms "sea orc" and "land orc" were chosen - it keeps the unity, while pointing out that the term does not designate a specific type of being, more a large class of man-eating beings. You could easily go with "sea monster" and "land monster" too.

At least that's how I perceive things - but again I am NO expert and any actual Italian insight on this topic would be more than welcome.

#orlando furioso #orco #orca #ogre #sea monster

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queenof-curses · 1 year

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Kugo Sakamata (Gang Orca)-

Y/N's Melody

♡ ♡ ~

Dating Pro-hero Gang Orca has never been short of interesting. He's attentive, loving, and an amazing partner. What Kugo brings to the bedroom has always rocked your world- but tonight is a little different. Your fertile scent activates his animalistic side, and he shows you just how much that effects him.

Masterlist | More My Hero Academia

Gang Orca x Fem!Reader

wc: 3k

author's note: I am not a marine biologist, nor do I claim to be. I did research up some whale mating patterns, but it was interesting to find that there is a lot unknown out there. Anyways, that’s about as much research as I’ll ever catch myself doing for erotic fanfiction. Enjoy! 🐳

Read the previous installment here

Read the next installment here

Killer whales have an interesting mating pattern.

Not only do the males have to sometimes fight off other competition, but they also sing for their potential mates. A personalized song meant for their match, a melody that’s purpose is to turn the female on enough to allow for fertilization to happen.

This was no different for Kugo, whose mutant-type quirk allows him the abilities of a Killer whale. Mating rituals included.

Being with Kugo has been nothing short of interesting. Every time the two of you did it felt like the first, always learning something new about one another and falling deeper in love with each moment.

Like killer whales, Gang Orca sings to you when he’s feeling, well… when he’s feeling frisky.

The song was always the same, but it was beautiful. A series of deep tones followed by a special series of clicks that he put together just for you. Every time you heard it, it made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. Yes, your anatomy had ended up being very different, but at the end of the day you were a fertile female, and he was very very male.

You watched the way his cock swayed between his legs. Kugo was indeed a whale-mutant, there was no doubt about it. His shaft was heavy, the sheer weight of it made it swing as he walked towards you. Your wide eyes took in his naked body-

His sculpted black and white chest, shiny and smooth in the low light of your shared bedroom. Chiseled abs created from his hard work as a pro-hero, each muscle making your mouth water as you brought your eyes even lower.

His cock bobbed as he walked towards you on the bed, his erection prominent and bulging. Just like males of his animal species, Kugo’s cock wasn’t that of a human man, but of an Orca whale. The appendage was tentacle-like, a thick base the size of your forearm that led to a tapered tip. His coloring was a deep, dusty pink… it stood out from the rest of his body, but the way it twitched and leaked had you salivating.

As he made his way to you, his song clicked and echoed in the room. The melody dancing across your mind, it sent shivers down your spine to hear. You loved the way he sang for you. It allowed you to tell when he was in the mood, and that he only had eyes for you.

It also helped that those sharp clicks made your nipples erect and clit twitch. It was like an animalistic response- one that mammals must have developed thousands of years ago. Deep down, your heart soared to hear his special song. It relaxed you, calmed you down when you were upset, and basically, made you horny as hell.

As he got closer, you leaned back onto your elbows.

Kugo wasn’t the only one that was naked. You brought your knees up onto the edge of the bed, a position similar to missionary. Except in this case, you exposed yourself to him.

His song rang louder as he watched you reach down with one hand, separating the lips of your cunt as you unashamedly showed yourself to him.

He stopped just short of you, his song halting as you listened to him inhale deeply. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, it made his dick pulse with a strong need to sink into you. He eyed your open slit greedily, wanting to sink himself down deep inside of you.

“I’m only barely holding myself back, Y/N. When you do this… I- I feel the pull to breed you.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Kugo?”

Your words were temptation- lewering him in close like a fish on bait. He wanted you- he always fucking wanted you. But tonight was a little different.

Tonight he could smell your ovulation.

If he were to sink his tentacle-like cock into you, you would be bred fully, like a bitch in heat. The scent was there, prominent and arousing.

“My Sweet…” he starts.

The nickname he used for you always made you blush- it was a window into the soft side of his normally formal pro-hero self.

“If we do this- the results of our actions will be the fruit of our labor…”

“So… you're saying that I’m ovulating?” You smiled, silently giggling at his stoic choice of words.

He exhales before answering you. “Yes my Sweet… if we continue, you’ll be pregnant before the night ends.”

“Kugo…” your voice was soft as you got up to stand in front of him. You reached out to caress his beak softly, the cool rubber-like skin was a relief on your heated palm.

“I would love nothing more to make a baby with you…” you smile warmly at him, a grin that stretches from ear to ear when you hear his only answer to your tempting words- his song for you.

His hand comes up and clasps around the wrist that touches his face, gripping it lightly as he uses the other to rest against the small of your back. He pulls you in close and nuzzles the crook of your neck.

Although Kugo was unable to kiss you, you never minded that fact. He made up his love for you in other ways, and as he lifted his head back up, still singing, you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his mouth.

Finally, he takes both your hands in his- deep eyes lock with yours and you notice the way his expression changes.

Once soft eyes turn dark as you feel the wetness of his hard cock slither against your skin. He squeezes your wrist tight before speaking.

“On the bed, My Sweet… I want you on all fours.”

You smile wide, enjoying when your mate gets a little rough.

“Yes sir.” You answer him, voice sultry and ready.

As you turn back around he lightly swats your ass, making you jump and hurry onto the bed in the position he requested. You couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for tonight.

Now on your hands and knees, you could do nothing but wait- the time passed slowly, and just as you were about to say something you felt cool, large hands massaged your backside.

“I love your ass, you know…” he tells you as he squeezes your cheeks. “I love seeing your little holes all open like this, just for me…”

You moan at his lewd words, arching your back and giving him a better view of your darkest places.

“You’re so fucking wet right now- I can see your pussy shine with it.”

A finger swipes up and down your folds, making you moan out and put your head down. You listened to your cunt squelch under his soft touch, your ass high in the air for his pleasure.

After Kugo made you sufficiently soaked, he removed all touch from you completely. You groaned in frustration, upset that he didn’t bring you to orgasm like he usually did.

It was then that you heard the drawer of the nightstand open. Followed by Kugo’s hum of delight, you hear a click followed by a monotone purrring sound.

“Oh god!” You cried out.

It was your hitachi wand.

Kugo brought the head of your toy up to your clit- placing it directly on the hardened bud as he sent vibrations tingling throughout your entire body.

“That’s it baby… I want you to cum for me.”

You rocked back into the toy, desperate to be filled and aching for his cock. Your folds were soaked, you could feel yourself leak onto the thing sheet below, no doubt making a complete mess.

“Fuck- Kugo, please…” you cried out.

He only turned the vibration up higher, jolting your body in shock and sending you deeper into the bed. The pro-hero admired the way you fisted the sheets, he could see the shivers running throughout your body from the vibrations. Your toes were curling, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“What was that, My Sweet… did you need something?”

He was teasing you, enjoying the way your body broke out in a thin sheen of sweat as he rubbed the vibrating head deeper into your hardened clit.

It drove you insane, your hands fisting the sheets as you were so close to your orgasm. You couldn’t seem to get over that hill of frustration, desperate to be filled by anything to get you there.

“Fuck Kugo…baby- I need you, need your fingers- something!” You cried out, frustrated and begging for pleasure.

You could almost hear the way he grins, eager and yet strategic in his plan for you. Waiting for a few more moments of bliss, he brings his fingers back to your entrance.

You feel the way his fingers play with your juices, spreading the honey of your pussy across your lower lips as he toyed with you further. Moving your hips back, you show him just how desperate you are for him. You rock against his touch in earnest, attempting to increase the friction as best you can.

Just as you open your mouth to beg, Kugo sinks two of his largest fingers into you. He drives the appendages down to his knuckles, fucking you with his fingers and he rolls the head of the wand in circles onto your now-swollen clit.

“Yes- that’s it baby, take what you need.”

He watches you, practically hypnotized by the way you fuck yourself on his fingers. He meets the movements of your backside, pounding into you with his hand as he drives you closer to orgasm.

“God- fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck it feels so good!”

He can see the way your cunt tightened around him. As he dragged his fingertips against your gummy walls, he felt each and every twitch of your insides as you squirt back onto his hand.

The vibrations on your clit along with Kugo’s fingers inside of you send you flying. Your eyes roll back as you cum hard onto his hands, your juices cover his wrist and the bed below as you drench your partner in your cum.

You can hear Kugo’s song as he uses it to coax you down from your blissful state, the hums and clicks bringing you back down to earth as you collapse onto the bed from exhaustion.

He turns off the vibrator, setting it down as he admires your blissful state. He loved to see you like this- fucked out and on cloud 9, it made him hard as fuck and he felt like he was about to burst. His tip leaked between his legs, coating his strong inner thighs in precum as he watched you with water eyes.

Once he felt like you were okay enough to continue, he stopped his song and positioned himself behind you.

“I hope you’re ready, My Sweet.”

You felt the way the smooth tip of his cock ran through your sensitive folds. He collected your wetness as his shaft rubbed against your core, his precum mixing with your previous release as he prepared you to take him.

Your moans filled the room as he teased you with his shaft, the heat of his tentacle-like member threatening to send you over. It was a slimy mess, the noises your wet folds made against him had you both on edge.

Once Kugo decided you were ready, he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to enter you from behind. He held your hips tight, holding you up against him as he thrusted in.

You felt yourself begin to stretch- the girth of his cock increasing as he pressed each inch into your tight hole.

“Oh God… Kugo…” you moaned, attempting to pierce yourself even further on his shaft.

“Shhh.. My Sweet, that’s it,” he praises you, holding your hips in place and forcing you to take him slowly.

He loved watching the way your body accepted his massive length, mesmerized by the sight of you stretched tight around him. Each time you pushed your body back to take him completely, he had to hold himself still from burying himself inside of your heat.

“You’re such a good girl,” he continued his praise, “that’s right, take it all in…”

Cool hands squeeze the fat of your ass cheeks, massaging them as if to encourage the stretch of your tiny cunt. You were drooling at this point, moans fell freely from your lips as you relaxed your core in order to take him all the way in.

“Fuck Kugo!” You scream out in bliss as you feel his lower abdomen meet your hips.

He bottomed out inside of you, giving you a moment to relax your body and adjust to his massive size.

“That’s right Sweet girl… think I can move now?” he asks you, concern lacing his voice even through the sheer bliss he was feeling right now.

It made your heart soar that he cared so much to guarantee your pleasure. You nodded your head and gave him a soft “yes,” indicating that he was free to move.

It was that moment that Kugo Sakamata lost control.

Seeing you beg for him with your eyes, so sweet and full of trust did something to him. The knot of tension in his lower belly snapped as his animalistic instincts kicked in.

He pulled his long and girthy cock out of you, inch by inch until just the tapered tip of his member brushed against the opening of your cunt. Then, with a click of his voice, he thrusted into you.

His biceps bulged as he repeated the action over and over again- running the thickness of his girth against your gummy walls as he pounded into you from behind.

Your eyes rolled back, your mouth opened wide as you panted under the grasp of his hands.

“Fuuuuuck, Kugo I-”

You were lost for words. The only thing you could do was moan and drool onto the bed below as he mounted you like a beast in heat.

Control long gone, Gang Orca lost all sense of being as he felt the way your pussy clamped around his cock. It shouldn’t feel this good- but your size difference meant that his cock stretched your walls to your limits, and he carved out a place for himself inside of you with each thrust.

“My Sweet- I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

His words came out as a growl, you felt him tighten his grip as he increased his pace. He fucked you hard and fast, each snap of his hips brought the kiss of his heavy balls against your swollen clit. Your eyes went cross as the delicious heat of the stretch was soothed by the bliss of him moving his thick shaft against your wet walls.

Suddenly, you felt him angle his hips downward, thrusting so hard you felt the tip of his cock press against your cervix. He was deep, touching your womb with every thrust of his heavy cock as a particularly sharp thrusts sent you over once more.

Kugo feels you tighten around him- your walls clamping down on him with an iron grip as you cum hard around him.

“Shit-” he says, feeling the splash of warm liquid on his abdomen.

You scream out as you squirt on him, the thrusts of his hips never slowing as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your legs shake under you, your mind is numb as you take every inch of his cock through your pleasure.

Completely fucked out, the only words you can say over and over again are “Give it to me!”

Your cries for his cum push Kugo further, past the point of caring whether or not he hurts you or not. He was chasing his own release, your begging was something relatively new as he loses himself in you.

“Fuck-I’m going to to cum…” he growls out, feeling the way his sack seizes against the base of his shaft.

“Please sir- please cum in me, I want it- want your kids…”

You were completely lost to him, loving each inch he gave you as he pounded into your tiny body below him. His hands would leave large bruises and your pussy would be swollen from the onslaught of his thrusts the next day.

Kugo squeezes you hard, moving your body back to meet his own thrusts. The swaying of your bodies moved in sync like a dance- and it was then he began to sing for you.

His song got louder as he neared his end. By the time he pounded into you one final time, Gang Orca’s music echoed in your shared bedroom, filling your heart with love as he stilled himself inside of you.

He buried himself as deep as he would go, the tip of his cock nestled in your womb as you felt his heat fill you. Kugo emptied himself into your cunt- thick, hot seed filled you up. You felt yourself stretch even further as your body was forced to accommodate both his load and member at the same time.

“Oh Kugo… fuck- it feels’ so good…” you cry out. You were overwhelmed with emotion, feeling so warm and sated with your mate. And you knew he felt it too, his song rang loud as he filled your body with his seed...

He completely empties himself inside of you- doing his best to ensure his cum would stick.

“Y/N..” he starts, “My Sweet Y/N…”

Smooth hands massaged your now-bruised backside, his touch gone gentle as he kept himself seated deep inside your womb…

“Kuuuugoo…” you moaned, realizing he was still hard inside of you.

“Shh… Y/N… we will continue in a moment…”

And sure, Gang Orca may have finished once, but he was far from done…

#Gang Orca #kugo sakamata #gang orca x reader #my hero fanfic #mha x reader #kugo x reader #Kugo Sakamata x reader #bnha #gang orca mha

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