Tumgik
#i am very much stretching the gif size limit here
fablesofkitkat · 2 years
Text
(18+) extra pov: domestic moments at 5:00 AM with Enji
genre: nsfw
minors do not interact
synopsis: what if instead of Rei, it was you who married Endeavor? early conversations with Enji.
I don't know how you do it, making love out of nothing at all
-Air supply
tags: @bootyholelicker @aw-crepes @tartly-sweet @ifyoulikeitiloveit @bxrn-thxs-wxy-90five @theroosterswife24 @ghostlyluminarycloud @acebakugo @itzyourgurlnihya @lynn-anonymous @animeaandp @rubinocore @mhashoswhore @includemeaspartofyourworld @nuttyninjacat @shadowzena43 @vtte @spicy-therapist-mom
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You stretch yourself on the bed as you wake up, pulling a muscle on your foot. The pain is instantaneous, resulting to your curled position. Are you that old? Getting cramps from a simple stretch? You couldn't contain the groan and whimper escaping from your lips. This wakes the sleeping giant beside you.
"...whuzwrong?" his voice sleepy and gruff.
"Foot cramps."
His eyebrows scrunched up and with eyes still closed, he sits up. His hand padded its way blindly to your thigh, squeezing for a second and he props up your leg to his lap. He attempts to grab your foot.
"Don't you dare—" you warned Enji.
His hand is large enough to make your feet small. He cradles your aching foot and gently flexed it. Relief flooded you. The pain seeped away. "This is new. Have you been wearing tight shoes?"
"No."
"...are you sure? Your feet size grew after you had Shoto."
The heat in his palms enveloped your foot and you sighed in contentment. "I'm sure."
"Maybe you're low on potassium, go see a doctor." He mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed. Enji placed both his palms on either side of your foot, gently pulling the right side of the foot forward while pushing the left side back, then left side forward and right side backward; he repeats the twisting motion, working his hands from ankle to toes.
"No, you go see a doctor. You're long overdue for a check-up too." You feel drowsy once more.
"It's Touya who needs a check-up. His new burns looked terrible despite the hero suit you invested in."
Your eyes narrowed. "What new burns?"
His eyes snapped open at his slip-up. The grimacing look he put on made the misplaced anger in you fade. Damn, this crusty old man. When did he get so adorable?
You looked heavenward and thought of your eldest. You never thought you'd consider about whooping his butt, but here you are. "What am I gonna do with Touya? Why can't he be moderate with his quirk."
"There are new heroes every day. Someone will be faster than Touya. Or wiser. Or stronger. He thinks he needs his chance in being Number One has a limited time window. It won't be long til he starts to feel the ache in his knees, feel the clunkiness of his movement, or notice how fatigue comes easy to him as he grows old. Since he was a kid, it didn't matter how much he bruised himself up to complete a day's training."
"Sounds like someone I know." You lift your arms up at him, inviting him to press himself into a hug.
His head rests on your chest while his arms lift your back so he could hug your waist. Your legs are apart to make room for him and then finally, he rolls his body with you lying on top of him.
"Fuyumi also worries me." Enji opens up; his hand is on your hip, the other on your back.
You look at your husband, propping your elbows up on his chest while your chin rests on your knuckles. "Why? Did something happen to Yumi??" Your forehead creased in worry.
"Don't you ever wonder why our daughter hasn't brought anyone for us to meet?"
"Like a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?"
"Yes." The grudge in that word did not go unheard.
You grin at his sour-puss expression. "One, you're very intimidating. Two, speak for yourself. How do you know I haven't met her special someone?"
"You did?"
"Well, not formally. There were no introductions. It was just me seeing them one time at the movies."
"You were at the movies without me?" His tone accusing.
"It was the time you left in the middle of our date." You sit up on his stomach, knees astride. You poke a finger at his chest. "You know I never watch a movie without you, there's no one to sleep with me."
His hands creep to cup your ass and you think none of it. You try not to. You and Enji are in your late 40s. You're in that weird phase where you try to second guess suggestive touches because of age. Will this lead to sex? Or not? You and Enji are a bit old so maybe not. Sometimes you and Enji don't feel like it but the habit sticks. It's comforting.
"You ever think of things we do while we go about our day?" asked Enji. He lifts you up a little for him to sit and he gets to makeout with you.
"All the time." You admitted, breaking away from his lips. You go back for more, your tongue felt small compared to Enji's.
"I'd be on patrol and remember your moans, or how wet you get grinding on my lap like right now." His kisses are controlled, not sloppy. For now.
You absentmindedly ground your hips on his thighs. Arms around his neck, a hand raking through his hair and the other scratching at the back of his neck. "I touch myself whenever..." You kiss his cheek, and proceeded to whisper in his ear. "But it's not enough— my fingers are too small and I miss you inside."
Enji has moved on to your neck while his hands pull your pajama pants along with your panties down to your ankles; you move a hand to wiggle them off. You thought wearing pajamas would help you and Enji refrain from sexual activities. It was a futile attempt.
"Can you imagine how warm and wet you are?" He suckled on a spot on your collarbone, stubbornly grabbing a bit of your skin to nibble. "What it does to me?" He palms your slit and the feel of his thick fingers that could just slip inside, gave you tingles. "It's a flood down here."
You bite the inside of your cheek, his smug smile makes you wanna smile too. "You started massaging my foot."
"Ah, so the noises you made were intentional." He pressed his lips on yours, his tongue winning and reaching the roof of your mouth.
You rub against his calloused hand wanting a finger to slip inside. When your silent plea is ignored, you push Enji down. Kissed his lips once, nails scratching from his chin, to his hears, down his neck, his furred chest to his stomach, edging the garter of his boxers. You tug his tank top upwards up to his chest. You smiled prettily, "Bet you make a noise before I'm done with you."
"Bet I could." Of course he won't back down.
You make him bite at his tank top and then proceeded to feel at his chest, the crisp curly hairs always felt good against your naked skin. You leaned down, laying kisses on his puffy pectorals. Kami, his chest looked bigger than yours. His nipples are tantalizing enough for you to bite and nibble.
His hand come up to his mouth to cover but you noticed. You raise an eyebrow at him.
Reluctantly, he brings it down and settle to gripping the sheets or a pillow.
His hard-on has been poking your ass so you settled your pussy on it directly, separated only by his boxers as you began to grind. Your hand trace lazy circles on his chest while you sucked at either nipples, the action addicting and rewarding with his hardening and squirming. The tip of his cock is peeking out of his garter and it felt so good against your cunt.
You rolled your hips chasing the feeling. He tugs down his boxers and fell into your rhythm, rubbing each other like a pair of horny teenagers.
It felt ridiculous. And forbidden. It made every sensation hotter. Even the noises. You stop grinding and you knew it almost made Enji groan in frustration.
You grab his shaft, smearing the precum on your entrance. Getting stretched out was something you savored these days and midway, Enji stopped you. He lifts you up and reached over the bedside table to grab the lube for his cock.
You're bombarded by mixed emotions. It stung your pride to need the lubricant but at the same time, your heart is soft and malleable because Enji remembered what the doctor said. "Fuck." Your eyes teared up.
His mouth lets go of his tank top. "What's wrong?"
"You know, I just—" You try to gather up your thoughts. "I don't blame you if you cheat on me for a younger woman. I don't want my body to stop making it feel good for you, but here I am."
Enji's arm is under your knees, and the other on your back, cradling you on his lap once more; you're very much aware of his lubed up, very much hard, dick pressing against your hips but he treated his lust unimportant and proceeded to kiss the side of your head. "You took it as that? For me, it stabs my pride to need lubricant. It's as seem like my skills is not enough to make you feel good as before."
"You're fine without the lube. It's me. I'm getting old and gets hurt without it for sex."
"Exactly. You'll be hurt without it. It's not like we can't fuck."
"Yeah, but isn't it a hassle for you?" You cross your arms, and let the tears flow freely. You wish you could wipe them away with the back of your hand but pretty sure the prototype humans on your hands would give you eye infection.
He chuckles and pressed another kiss on your hair. "It's pouring liquid on my dick, how much hassle could it be?"
"But it'd be easier if I was younger."
"Yes but I won't trade an old woman like you for a younger woman."
You slap his chest. "Hey!"
Enji laughs. Another kiss. "Fine. I won't trade my young wife for a much younger woman."
"I'm sorry for ruining the mood." You lean against his chest.
"You didn't ruin anything."
You give him a chaste kiss on the lips and then you put your weight against Enji so both you and him fall on the bed sideways. You press your ass at him and he slipped inside you, moving a little to bury his full length. He pressed himself closer, spooning you in his form.
"I have never imagined starting over with someone." Enji says after a few moments. "I cannot. To find someone new, or to break our marriage is the same as starting all over again. I cannot be without you."
You grab his hand and kissed the back of it. "Me too."
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AN: So sorry for edging you guys. This is your author speaking, I'm not stuck with you in this Endeavor hellhole. You're stuck with ME.
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hertzwritings · 2 years
Text
To have and to hold chapter 3
A/N: This is a requested and paid personalized story – the lovely @snackycake1975​ bought me a coffee and told me the kind of story, she’d like to have written, and this is the result! I’m so glad many of you are enjoying it as well, because it’s a joy to write full fluff and just love it as I do! If you want a personalized story (both with names, looks, plot and everything else) you can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a drabble, one-shot or a multi-chapter fic!
I love y’all so much. Remember, feedback feeds the soul and requests (and askbox) is always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.
MASTERLIST
SERIES MASTERLIST
ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plus-sized!female reader (Rachel)
Warnings: language, pure fluff
Wordcount: 2.571
 Merry-go-round of life
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 You stretched languidly and kept your eyes closed against the soft warmth of the morning sun. You felt overwhelmingly content, surprisingly warm and heavy. Too heavy, in fact. You slowly opened your eyes and instantly saw a thick arm draped over your waist; hand turned to your chest. Henry.
In the same second you noticed his arm around you, you also noticed the feeling of his chest rising and falling behind you, and his breath fanning out on your neck.
“Don´t overthink it.” His sleepy voice penetrated the stillness of the morning, and his hand gripped your shirt tightly, holding you close to him. “I like to cuddle.” He mumbled and moved ever so closely to you.
  “Uh, Henry…” You muttered and felt the flush of your cheeks – you might love him, but you’d rather him not find out the fact of the matter. In truth, you would happily spend your days right here, in his arms and his bed – simply forgetting the world around you. “Indulge me, please.” His lips touched your neck – if it was intentional or not, you didn’t dare to think about, and your heart picked up with the light scratch of his stubble. “I just…” You trailed off as his thumb began rubbing slow circles on your clothed waist. It felt as though the air got sucked out from your chest at the feeling.
He had touched you before – it was a part of your friendship; you were both physical and touchy – but this felt entirely too intimate for you; you couldn’t think straight. “Darling, I… Just allow me to settle here for a moment. Just five minutes of this.” He mumbled. “I’ll allow it.” You whispered back slowly, but surely, letting your own hand rest on the one, that lay heavily on your waist. He sighed happily. “Thank you.” Silence fell for a few heartbeats before he spoke again. “What would you want to do today?” He asked you, his chin on your shoulder. You smiled. “Literally nothing. I’’ haven’t had a vacation in forever, so I’d like to just relax for a while.” “Maybe go swimming?” He asked and you felt the overwhelming amount of color in your face disappear at once. “Uh…” It wouldn’t be the first time you’d been swimming with him, but this felt different. You weren’t truly ashamed of your body – or even uncomfortable in it – but it was very… Weird. The feeling in your gut of letting him see you in just swimwear made you want to throw up; not that he would look at you differently, hopefully, but the idea of him seeing you in so little made you want to die. “I promise, the water is warm and really nice. The sun is supposed to be out all day, and it’s kind of limited what else we can do today. Or tomorrow.” You laughed a little at that. “True. But… I didn’t bring any swimwear.” You tried to sway him from this idea. It would probably be better if you just played chess or something. “Ha, like that’s ever stopped you. Do you not remember that time you literally just dove into the sea wearing your gala dress?” You chuckled. That had been fun – you were 17 years old and drunk as all hell, the night was warm and full of youthful promise. “I do remember you jumping first, Henry. Naked.” He laughed. “Ha, yes, I did. That is the reason I’ve sworn off vodka completely.” He said with a slight chuckle, his fingers still warm and tight around your waist. The tip of his fingers rested just under your breasts, and it made you feel lightheaded. “At any rate, I have nothing to swim in, seeing as I neither have a gala dress or swimwear.” “Just wear your underwear, then.” “Uh… No.” “Why?” He let go of your waist and you turned to face him. “Because! It’s my underwear.” He laughed a little and cocked an eyebrow. “So? It’s exactly the same as swimwear, you tosser.” “No, it is not! It’s… Underwear.” You finished lamely. “Pfht, I think it’ll do just fine. Come on, for me? I promise to cook for you tonight, then.” That was an alluring prospect – if anything, Henry was the best cook you’d ever known, and you did miss his cooking. “Well… That depends on what you cook.” You said with a grin. His face lit up and his hand found your cheek, fondly placing it there. “Whatever you’d like.”
You both got up, drinking your coffee, sitting on the terrace and enjoyed the warm winds. “Can I ask you something?” He asked, placing his cup on the table. He wasn’t looking at you, but staring into the distance, still painted a rosy, gold hue. “Sure.” You answered happily. He turned to you with a smile and drew a deep breath. “Have you ever wondered why we haven’t… Er, dated?” You felt a blush instantly settle on your cheeks and you cast your eyes to your feet, where Kal laid still, napping and snoring. “Uh…” “I just mean… We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember, really. You’ve known me through the awkward phases of life. We even came close once, remember?” You did remember that night. On the roof of your house, both of you laying down, staring up at the night sky, your cheeks stained with mascara and tears after Colin Markis had laughed at you and called you a fat bitch, after he had pretended to wanted to go to a dance with you. Henry had held you when you cried and then both of you had gotten very drunk, laying on the roof. His hand had found yours slowly, weaving fingers with yours and he had turned to you, your noses bumping. It was quiet and slow, and right before you touched lips, you had turned your head with the simple statement that you were drunk and your friendship was too dear to you for it to be ruined by a kiss. “Well… I’ll stand by what I said then. Our friendship means too much for me.” You sighed. “Besides, I don’t think I’m the type for you, really.” “And you’re the judge of my taste and type?” He asked with raised eyebrows. “With your dating history, I should be.” “Funny. You’re being a brat and evasive, you know?” “It is what i do best, Hen. Besides, we’re not here for deep conversations about love, but to have fun. Who knows how long I’ll be here for, anyway, we should just enjoy it.”  He smiled at you and nodded. “Yeah, we should. See you at the pool in ten?” You nodded and began moving towards the bathroom to change, your cheeks warm and heart heavy. One day, you’d tell him. 
That day was not today. 
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You frowned as you looked down at yourself. It felt a little too simple and yet incredibly daunting, to step outside of the bathroom and to the waiting pool. It was strange, how much you were aware of your own looks. It was Henry for goodness sake, and he had seen you with backne. It wasn’t that difficult to let him see you without it – and with a more confident body. Your fingers followed the ridges and lines on your body – you felt… Less because of them. The stupid lines that came when you grew too fast for your body to keep up. Another thing entirely was your constant battle with your brain and your heart - the two polars that disagreed completely on what you should do - one wanted you to jump his bones, damned it all to hell, while the other (more sensible part, you ventured) was telling you to just forget it.  “Fuck it.” You mumbled to yourself and grabbed the towel before heading out into the blinding sun.
You stopped dead in your tracks as you saw him get out of the water, almost like it was in slow motion, water droplets rushing off his body, trailing and outlining every, single muscle in his body. It was like a fucking ad for cologne, looking at him shake his hair and smile at you. “You’re kidding me, you look like you’re photoshopped!” You exclaimed in annoyance. “What is that?” You gestured to him. “You just gestured to all of me.” He said with a grin. “I know what I did.” You murmured. Damn him. “Come on, get in.” He stepped closer to you with a glint in his eyes. “Uh…” You stepped back as his hands reached out for you. “I think I’ll stay on the sunbed for a while first.” “Under no circumstance.” Faster than you could have seen coming, his hands were on your waist and pushed you towards the edge of the pool. You barely had time to think before you felt yourself tip backwards, and your hands reached for the only thing, you could find to steady yourself – his neck.
You tumbled into the water with him with a slight squeal and emerged from the water with a gasp. Henry chuckled, his arms still around you. “You’re an ass.” “You love me.” You were panting, your nipples pebbling in the cold water, goosebumps rising on your skin. You were caught in his eyes and barely noticed yourself move closer still to him; you were skin to skin with him, feeling like you were burning with ice. Strange feeling. Your breath was stolen from you, and his grip tightened on you. You didn’t really think too much off it, letting your legs wrap around his waist gently. He cocked an eyebrow and held you tightly to him. Goosebumps were ever-present on your skin, pebbling under his fingers. “Call me a cute pond, because I have goosies.” You wanted to die. There was no way you had just said that out loud. He roared with laughter and turned you both, pushing your back against the side of the pool. “That… Was… Something.” He said between bouts of laughter. You rolled your eyes and felt your cheeks heat up – it wasn’t just because of the weird exclamation you had just made, but also from the proximity of him. His hands were warm on your lower back, and you found his eyes again. “So…” you began, trying to start a conversation, which seemed completely impossible at this moment, with his eyes boring into yours. You felt wanting. “Can I just enjoy this moment for a second longer?” He asked, a sliver of something unknown in his voice. You gawked at him – he seemed just as wanting as you. “Just… Enjoy this feeling. The way you…” He sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. “Just one moment.” You didn’t know what to say or do, his hands were gripping you tightly, fingers bruising against your skin. You gasped as he moved closer, his fingers moving lower on your back, resting against your dimples in your lower back. You allowed your hands to trail his neck, letting them fumble against the short hair on the nape of his neck. You wanted to pull him closer, feel his breath on your face, but a sense of sensibility held you back. You were friends. You weren’t suitable for his life, this place – you were just normal. “Henry…” You almost breathed his name. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms steady and hard against yours. “Stop. Don’t think, don’t. Just let me… Enjoy it.” He mumbled, fingers gripping you ever tighter. You were a mess. There was a clear line before you showed up to his house, a clear understanding that this was not going to happen. This thing, that had been lingering in the shadows for as long as you had been friends, the unspoken, unsaid want and gaze that often passed between the two of you, were just that – unspoken and full of shadows.
Now, the line had been washed out completely and you were falling straight into the abyss with him, trying to grasp feeble whispers of steadiness. His eyes were an ocean in uproar, as they searched yours for any inclining of doubt. It was completely impossible for you to refuse him – even if you wanted to, you didn’t think you’d have the wherewithal to do it. “Henry, this is…” You whispered to him, afraid to break the silence between you – but you had to, simply had to say something before anything happened that would ruin your friendship. The lined was merely a dot in the horizon as you felt his muscle rolling against your cold skin. 
“Just one moment. That’s all I ask.”
So you let him.
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bittercoldbrew · 2 years
Text
For Keeps
Ezra (Prospect) x OC (Tess Stone)
Gotta post this quick, while everyone's distracted...
Okay, so I wrote this a few weeks ago, but I've been dragging my feet about posting it here because it's definitely the steamiest thing I've ever written and I feel. weird about that. But uhh despite its adult content I am still quite proud of the writing I've done here, and I think some folks here might uhh enjoy it as well, so here ya go!
Takes place immediately following the fade-to-black in Chapter 6 of To Build Something New, so this is Ezra and Tess's first time together—probably helps to have read that first, but it's almost entirely smut so I doubt much context is necessary 😅
This is for 18+ readers ONLY. Contains sexually explicit content, oral sex, fingering, a very quick handjob, a bit more size kink than I intended (sorry Sam), lots of swearing, a truly excessive amount of italics and em dashes (fight me), and Ezra being Ezra.
Word count: 3.6k
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“Why don’t we...start with tonight, and see where that leads us?”
“That sounds good to me.”
His kiss leaves her breathless, stunned. Ezra loves her, wants her, she can feel it in the grip of his big hands on her waist, in the heat behind his glittering dark eyes. She thinks of trailing fingers through melted candle-wax—just shy of too hot to touch, pliant and cooling against her skin, peeling away and leaving her smoother than before. “Ezra,” she gasps, and he buries a hand in her hair and draws her in for another scorching kiss, breathing her own name into her.
“Tess—”
His mouth is a furnace—she would let him melt her down, mold her into whatever he wanted her to be. But he wants her as he is, loves her as she is, and for that—for that—gods, for that she’ll give him anything.
“Fuck,” she gasps into his mouth, pants for breath against his chin, begs without an ounce of shame, “fuck me.”
He looses his breath like she’s struck him, rocks his hips up into her, slips his hand more securely across her back and cradles her head in his hand and calls her, “Wanton thing...” And then he lifts up and turns and lowers her to the couch, drawing her under him, sheltering her in beneath the breadth and strength and solidity of his body.
There’s nowhere in all the galaxy she’d rather be.
She wets her lips and heaves a breath and meets his eyes. “Please?”
“Fu-uck,” he groans, rolling his hips and pressing his hard, hot length against her in a way that makes her heart and eyelids flutter. He tucks the prosthesis beside her hip to prop himself up, lowers his open mouth and slick tongue to suck and nip at her collarbone, trails his other hand—hot and calloused skin, firm and gentle grasp—around the dip of her waist and over the soft swell of her tummy. “Gotta be patient with me, pretty girl,” he rasps, voice rough in his throat. “Ain’t done this since I lost the arm. —Need to get it right.”
She drags a hand through his hair, scoffs at even the suggestion that he could get it wrong—and then his fingers dip beneath the waistband of her shorts; he grunts in surprise to find nothing but her skin beneath them, his thumb seeking lower, gliding between her lips and skimming over her clit and delving into her wet folds—and the scoff gets caught in her throat, escapes as a desperate whine.
“Oh, shit,” he breathes, and starts to push away from her. She cries out, makes a grab for him, but he catches her hand and shakes his head, drops a swift and soothing kiss to her ribcage, and clenches his fingers in the fabric of her shorts. “Shh, I know, I just—you gotta let me— Need to know what Kevva tastes like, Kyrie.”
She hasn’t even come yet; he’s scarcely even touched her. Already, he’s ruined her for all others.
“Ezra.” She hitches her hips as he drops to his knees beside the couch, letting him drag her shorts down as he goes.
He’s to impatient to pull them all the way off, so the elastic stretches to its limit across her right thigh and left calf as he wedges his chest between her legs and smothers his own face in her cunt. He is ravenous, insatiable, eating her out and drinking her down like she’s the last glass of water he thinks he’ll ever see, like he doesn’t want to waste a drop.
With anyone else, she’d be embarrassed by the slick, sloppy sounds he makes and the pathetic little noises she can’t rein in—but they seem to spur him on instead, both hands gripping her ass and tugging her closer with each desperate keen and—yes, wanton cry. He rubs his nose against her clit, licks and sucks at her wetness, scrapes the edges of his teeth against her sensitive folds to hear her gasp, thrusts his tongue inside to taste her deeper, lets her feel the rumble of his every contented sigh and satisfied hum as she buries her fingers in his hair and calls out “Yes,” and “Please,” and “Ezra…”
“That’s it,” he murmurs, words muffled in her flesh. “Need you to come, baby, so I can—fuckin’ think straight. C’mon, sweet girl. Let me have it.”
She comes in a cascade of pleasure, every sensation of lips and tongue and teeth and hands building off of the other, core throbbing and stars bursting behind her eyelids, pulse thudding in her ears, and the soothing comfort of Ezra’s voice behind it all, purring, “Yeah, yeah, just like that, oh Tess…”
The couch beneath her feels like a dream, a cloud, letting her drift back slowly to terra firma and her tingling, loose-limbed body. She remembers the day she found it, walking home from a long but satisfying shift at the clinic, spotting the bulky piece of furniture on the other side of the street, jogging across to read the note pinned to its cushion—free to a good home. She remembers that sudden, striking epiphany—that she had one of those now; that she could be one, even. She remembers comming the man she was falling for, remembers the glee in his voice at the prospect of a tiny bit of mischief in service of helping her haul this thing back to her place, remembers sitting there waiting for him to come—remembers daydreaming about what it might be like, perhaps, someday, to fuck Ezra Sky on this couch.
“If I’ve found my way, at last, to Kevva’s gates,” he murmurs softly, resting his forehead against her hipbone and speaking the words into the dark, damp curls between her legs, “I most humbly beg your mercy.”
He certainly hadn’t been the first of her patients to recite the old Prospector’s Prayer at the first sight of her. She’s pretty sure he’s the first to ever repeat it, now knowing better and being neither dead nor dying. She knows without a doubt that he’s the only one to ever have spoken it like this—as though he’s worried more for her opinion than his own fate—as though she is, and could ever be, worthy of praying to.
From any other person, the idea would make her recoil. From him, it makes her want to return the favor.
She rests her hand at his nape, holding him to her protectively, possessively. “They can’t have you yet,” she tells him. A promise. A threat, in case any gods out there think they might try to swoop in and snatch him away before she’s done with him.
He lifts his head to meet her eyes, his crooked grin and heated gaze striking her breathless, even now. “No, they can’t,” he drawls. “I’m yours, Tess.”
She smiles at him, tracing her fingers through the soft curls at the back of his neck, relishing in the way it makes his eyelids flutter and his head cant into her touch. “Then will you please just fuck me already?”
He chokes on a laugh, drops his face into the crook of her hip. “I, uh—didn’t bring anything with me. Protection, I mean. But I can—I’ll give you my fingers, sweet girl, if that’ll take the edge off? Or I guess I could run to the store; be back in a tick, if you can be patient?”
Tess cocks her head to the side and frowns down at him, confused. “Sorry, do you think I wouldn’t be up to date on my bots?”
His head snaps back up, eyes wide with surprise. “Your..? I… Fuck,” he gasps, shaking his head with a sheepish, sideways smile. “I have got to start rememberin’ I ain’t in the fuckin’ wilderness no more.”
She can’t quite stifle a laugh, too amused by the embarrassment that is such a rare sight on his gorgeous face. She cups his chin in her hand so he can’t hide that face again, strokes his cheek with her thumb, and says, “I’ll remind you anytime you need it, baby.”
“...Yeah?” he asks, and the look he gives her is one she’s seen from him before, one she’s sure she reflected back just as often, but one she’s never been brave or reckless enough to give a name to. But she can’t deny it now—he looks lovestruck.
She’s sure she looks the same.
“Yeah,” she promises, and pushes up on her elbows to lean into him, and he lifts up from his knees and meets her halfway, lips crushing against hers and his tongue in her mouth as she throws and arm around his neck to hold him close.
He tastes and smells like her, the reminder of the pleasure he’d just wrung out of her setting her body alight, and she squirms to kick her shorts off the rest of the way and starts tugging at his shirt. His chest and back and arms she’s seen before, but she wants to see them again—see all of him—like this, with better lighting and better circumstances and all the time she needs to see her fill and the right to touch him all she wants. She wants to see as much of him as he’ll let her, for as long as he’ll let her. She can’t imagine ever growing weary of the sight.
“Gods, Tess,” he groans, drawing back and lifting his arms so she can pull the shirt over his head and toss it away. “I should—do this properly. Should carry you to bed, or somethin’.”
“Later,” she huffs, the word and the promise it holds echoing around in her own head as she slips out of her sweater and reaches for the hem of her tank top, starting to lift that off as well. “I need you now.”
Ezra curses under his breath and fumbles to help her, hands trailing against her skin as the last of her clothing is lifted up and tossed away.
He stares down at her slack-jawed, panting, his gaze hot and heavy and seemingly tangible as it traces over her, leaving her skin flushed in its wake. “Oh,” he breathes, the word leaving his mouth with a shudder. “Oh, Kevva has nothin’ on you, Tess. How—how are you so beautiful? How could you...want me?”
“You’re all I want, Ez,” she admits, grabbing his left hand and dragging it between her legs, letting him feel how wet she is for him, again, already. He seems dazed, stunned, but his fingers know what to do, sliding against her in a way that makes her chest heave, a moan hitching in her throat. And he watches her react to his touch, swallows hard, leans in and rests his forehead against hers, screwing his eyes closed and taking a deep, steadying breath—still stroking her.
So she slips a hand between them, skimming across his hipbone, cupping the hard ridge through his pants as his breath catches, hips rutting softly into her touch. “Ezra,” she breathes, trying to draw him back to her—but he responds with a low whine that makes her bite back a moan, his hips pressing into her hand more intently, fingers slipping lower, the thick, blunt tips of the first two just beginning to press into her.
“I know,” he says, still not opening his eyes. “I know I said we’d just start with tonight. But I’m not—I can’t… If you let me do this, Tess, it’s for keeps. I’ll be good, I promise I’ll try to be good for you. I’ll give you space, or time, or whatever you need, anything you need. But you—you make me feel adrift, Tess—like the only thing keeping me tethered is you and your voice and your smile, and, Tess, if you give me this, too, I’m done for. I’m all—all yours.”
“Yes,” she gasps, rolling her hips to take his fingers deeper, stroking him faster through his pants. “That’s what I want, Ezra. You’re what I want.”
“Shit.” He opens his eyes again, and his gaze is molten as it traces from her eyes to her lips and down her neck and over her breasts and along her stomach and down to her cunt where his fingers are now buried inside her, stroking deeper than her own reach, pulling slick sounds and breathy gasps from her.
“Fuck, Tess, I should—I should be better for you,” he mutters, distractedly, sitting up and fumbling at his belt with the prosthesis, kicking off his shoes, curling his fingers inside her in a way that makes her back arch, makes her swallow a desperate cry. “But I will—I promise I’ll give you my best.”
She’s pretty sure his best would wreck her.
She’s certain it will, once he gets his pants undone and pushes them down with a little hop, his cock jutting free, dark and weeping and bobbing against the soft swell of his belly, thicker than anything she’s ever had before.
“Oh,” she moans, incapable of anything more intelligent, grabbing his left wrist with one hand so she can pull herself toward him and reach desperately with the other.
He spits out a curse and shoves his pants and briefs to the ground and lurches toward her, sliding his hot and twitching length into her eager palm. It’s so much, too thick for her fingers to wrap around and meet her thumb, but not for lack of trying. She strokes him only once and earns a litany of curses and a cry of her name from his lips and a drizzle of precum on her forearm for her efforts.
“Ezra. Ezra, Ezra, Ezra, please, Ezra,” she begs, and he nods his head jerkily and pulls back from her with a groan. She makes a pitiful sound as he drags his fingers out of her, but he’s quick to soothe with feather-light caresses of his prosthetic hand against her inner thigh, the polished polymer smoothness a grounding comfort as she bites her lip and watches him smear his cock with her slick.
“I know, baby, I know you need it,” he murmurs, dipping his fingers back inside for a little more, sloppily coating himself with her. “I’ve got you, Tess, I’ll be good for you. Just—just—just give me a second.”
She’ll give him anything he asks for, give him every star in the sky if he wants ‘em, as he slides his hand along her thigh and around her knee, lifting her leg to wrap around him and spreading her open, nocking his tip against her entrance. She lifts her hands to his chest, aching to touch him, needing something to hold onto, feeling his muscles flex, his pulse thumping against her palm, racing in time with her own—as he presses into her.
She’s been so wet this whole time, this whole night, practically from the moment she’d opened her door to find him standing there with a bottle in his hands, concern and sympathy in his eyes. But still, he’s so big, trying to take it slow, take it easy on her, stretching her so deep it forces the breath from her lungs, pinning her hips to the cushions with both his hands to keep her from squirming or driving herself on him too quick.
“Fuck, Tess, you’re so—so tight,” he grits out, as if she’s somehow the issue here, bottoming out before she can mount any kind of coherent defense, his pelvis resting against her aching clit and leaving her breathless, speechless, incapable of anything more sensate than throwing her arms around his neck and dragging his lips down to hers. He groans into her mouth, filling her with his breath as much as all the rest. It’s a messy kiss, all tongues and teeth and gasping, and it may be the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
“Ezra,” she pants into him, trying to roll her hips but unable to with his weight on her. “Ezra, please, I need—I need you.”
He nods his head, dragging his open mouth against her neck, hot and wet, teeth barely nipping at her skin as he pulls out halfway—then just drops back into her.
She gasps, digging her fingers into the solid muscle of his back. “Ezra!”
He laves his tongue against her neck in apology, then lifts up on his elbows and gazes down at her, panting mouth and sweat-slick skin and eyes blown pitch black, endlessly dark. He pulls out for real this time with a cant of his hips, rolls back into her, sliding deep—then does it again. And again, and again, settling into a steady, eager rhythm that has her rocking up to meet him with every stroke.
“Tess—sweetheart—baby, you feel—too good,” he groans, shaking his head. “And it’s… It’s been a while, Tess, and I—I can’t—can’t last as long as you deserve, sweet girl.”
“Close,” she gasps, chest heaving, gripping his hand tight, dragging his fingers to her needy clit. She’s too keyed up—from the prior orgasm, and the way his fingers had worked her over, and the heft and weight and heat of him filling her again and again. “I’m close, please.”
He growls, nodding frantically, rolling her clit between two fingers—her back lurches up off the cushions, and he swipes his other arm under her ass, bracing himself on his knees and the back of the couch, angling her hips up and snapping his down into her. “Next time,” he babbles, “next time. Promise you. Tess—Tess, where—? Where can I—?”
She clenches trembling thighs around him, just in case—barely manages to meet his wild eyes and grit out, “Inside.”
Then the orgasm consumes her, every nerve ending sparking white-hot, the pleasure overwhelming, all-encompassing, filling her up and flooding out all else but itself and the throbbing of her cunt and the feeling of Ezra spilling inside her with a desperate, broken cry of her name—and then the sweat-slick heat of his skin against hers, the weight of him pressing her into the couch cushions as he all but collapses on top of her.
Somewhere in all of that, his mouth finds her, and he drags a line of wet kisses along her collarbone and up into the crook of her neck. She runs a shaky hand up the broad pane of his back and down again, relishing in the feeling of firm, strong muscle fully relaxed beneath her touch.
“Ezra,” she says—just to appreciate the sensation of his name in her mouth.
“Mnh?” His response is little more than a low, sleepy breath. She shakes her head anyway, not wanting to disturb this afterglow, not wanting to speak because anything she could say in this moment would be irrevocably, embarrassingly lovesick.
But he is, as always, ill content to linger in silence. With a groan, he shifts the bulk of his weight off her and props himself on his side to look at his handiwork, at the mess he’s made of her. The creases are deep at the corners of his smiling eyes as he lifts his hand to her cheek, smooths a dark coil of hair out of her face.
She hadn’t had time to style or fully dry it after her shower, with his unexpected arrival, and she doesn’t even want to imagine what kind of bird’s nest it’s become after all...this. But Ezra doesn’t seem to notice, tracing his fingers down her cheek with a slow, easy smile. “You’re so beautiful, Tess,” he breathes.
And because it’s Ezra—because he’s never lied to her about anything that matters—she can’t help but believe him.
And her eyes well with tears.
“Hey, hey—” His voice is a soft rasp, his brow wrinkling in concern as he brushes an escaping tear away. “Baby?”
“Sorry,” she gasps, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m alright.”
“Are you..?” He slides his dick free of her and cranes his neck to look, checking for any sign of blood. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she hurries to reassure, lifting a hand to his chin, guiding him back to her. “No, I’m just… Today was just—intense.”
He hums softly, keeping close, sort of hovering worriedly. “Was this...too much?”
She’s still crying a little, but manages to grin, leaning in and resting her forehead against his cheek. “No, this was...good. This was so good.”
He hums again, thoughtfully, trailing gentle, calloused fingers against her skin. There’s a warm, lilting tease in his voice, as he asks, “Only good?”
She huffs a watery laugh, laying her hand over his, keeping his palm against her cheek so he can feel her smiling. “Don’t wanna set the bar too high. I was promised a next time.”
“You were indeed,” he assures her, seriously, a little breathlessly. “And I do aim to deliver.”
“I know,” she says, pulling back to meet his eyes again, tracing her finger along the curve of scar tissue in his cheek. Fell out of a tree, she thinks. Not going anywhere. He promised.
“For keeps, right?” she asks, her smile fading, needing to hear him say it again, needing to be certain.
He cups the back of her head and draws in close—close enough for the tip of his nose to rest against hers, close enough that all she can see are his warm, dark eyes and the love and honesty and certainty in them. “For keeps,” he promises, his breath warm and welcome against her skin.
And because it’s Ezra, she believes him.
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twdbegins · 3 years
Text
Having Sex on a Run with Rick
Rick Grimes x Fem! Reader
Request: Hay, I recently became active on your blog; And I love it so much already!? Your work for Rick? 😤 It’s damn fine! We need more for him,,I was wondering if I could get something for Rick where Reader and him are on a run and Reader feels frisky? Lust comes over the two and they make out, getting each other off? Basically they’re having a quickie on a run? Because the adrenaline is pumping if you get my gist... @positive-squid​
Warnings: Smut. Profanity. Sexual content.
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Rick could tell that something was off with you.
You weren’t acting badly or mean or anything. 
But you seemed...antsy.
At first, he assumed that you were getting a little stir crazy.
Things in Alexandria had been good for a while, and mostly everyone had been sticking around trying to improve camp.
Even though Alexandria was extensive, he could understand how someone could still feel a bit caged in.
So he suggested that you accompany him on a run.
The two of you were close friends, so he didn’t see any issue with it.
He almost felt bad at how excited you got over it.
Rick figured that the group could always use more resources, so he didn’t feel as if this run was just for killing time.
You were bubbly as you slid into the passenger seat, positively stoked to be getting out for a bit.
Rick knew of a few places that needed to be scouted, so at least the two of you could get a day’s work out of this run.
It started as business as usual.
The two of you chatted as you scrounged for food or whatever else you could possibly use.
“Does Carl still need a pair of bigger boots? I think I just found a pair.”
“Sure, thanks. Do you think that Daryl would use this hairbrush?”
“Very funny.”
It was a pretty textbook run. The two of you chatted while you looked for things, throwing anything and everything even semi-useful into your backpacks.
Not to mention...it was brutally hot.
While it was a bit difficult to really ever truly know what day it was...
It was always unmistakable when summer had come back around.
The days were blistering hot and even the evenings were sticky and warm.
Sweat dripped down your back as you navigated the abandoned building that was somehow trapping more heat that you would’ve anticipated.
You had glanced over at Rick at one point to check on him, when you saw that he was having the same problem.
Sweat beaded around his forehead, some of it sliding down his face and neck.
He glistened in the daylight, his hard work being proven through his perspiration.
You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 
It was the strangest feeling to be so drawn into him.
Sure, you had always found him attractive. It was hard to deny.
But you hadn’t really ever had a chance to just...look at him.
You eyed over his hands and arms as they moved stuff around.
His muscles flexed and relaxed in the most captivating way.
The veins in his hands and forearms were prevalent from both the heat and all the strenuous movement. 
His dark curls were damp with sweat, yet he still looked so clean.
Your sights diverted to his hips, watching the way his legs moved in such a calculated way.
All kinds of dirty thoughts plagued your mind.
The thought of his hands around your throat.
His fingers in your mouth,
His cock buried somewhere deep inside of you.
He looked perfect.
A little too perfect.
It didn’t take him long to catch your stare, a confused smile as a quirked brow appearing on his features.
“Something wrong?”
You snapped out of your trance, embarrassed that he had just caught you staring. 
“Nope!” You had squeaked,��“All good here.”
He brushed it off, thinking you were tired from the day’s work.
It wasn’t until you were loading up the vehicle with all of your found resources that he noticed it again.
He noticed the way your eyes followed his every move.
The way you were listening extra closely when he spoke.
Something was on your mind, but he just didn’t expect that he was on your mind.
The two of you climbed into the truck, him in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s seat. 
But he didn’t start the truck.
Instead he looked over at you, catching your bashful gaze.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Rick asked, this time a little more determined to figure it out.
You refused to admit to him that you had been pining over him for the last hour and a half.
Deny, deny, deny.
“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
Rick wasn’t buying it.
He wasn’t buying that at all.
“You know, if something is bothering you, you can tell me. I don’t want you to be unhappy if it’s something I can fix.”
Oh, it was definitely something he could fix alright.
But still, there was no way that you were telling him that.
“I really am fine, Rick. Honestly.”
He still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to push you.
He started the truck, thinking that he’d get through to you sooner or later.
The ride was quiet, both of you too caught up in your own thoughts to say much of anything. 
You had tried to push your dirty thoughts aside, trying your hardest to control your feelings towards him.
But the way he looked in the late afternoon sun filtering in through the windows, mixed with the way he kept throwing side glances at you...you couldn’t.
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over, please.”
Rick obliged, worried that something was wrong.
He barely even managed to get the truck in park before you crawled over the center console into his lap.
He didn’t even have time to be stunned, because your lips crashed into his before he could speak.
It surprised you, but Rick didn’t really question it.
He kissed back with the same energy, fiery and passionately desperate.
His hand came to the back of your neck, keeping you close and allowing your lips to hover over his when you pulled back for air.
He could feel the heat pooling between your legs through his pants, and he knew it wasn’t from the summer heat.
“I never knew you felt so strongly about me.” Rick had chuckled, already breathless from the heavy kissing.
He groaned when you dragged your clothed cunt over his thigh while you worked on getting his pants unbuckled.
He caught you in another kiss while you stroked his cock to an erection, his spine shuddering at the feeling of you touching him like this.
You praised yourself for deciding to wear shorts, getting them off with your free hand and with ease.
You knew you had limited space, since you weren’t too keen on doing this outside of the truck.
Not that you minded being in close quarters with Rick.
This was going to be a quick fuck. 
You knew that this was the scratch the itch and the address the tension that had been building for a while.
Rick didn’t seem to mind that.
His fingers dragged through your folds, collecting your arousal as he rubbed the pads of his fingers on your clit.
You moaned at the feeling, the waves of pleasure already beginning and he hadn’t even gotten inside of you yet.
“You were really happy to be with me, huh?” Rick teased, spitting into his hand and lubricating himself just to be sure he didn’t hurt you.
Before you could respond, your hips were lifted by his hands and he slammed you down onto his cock to the point where your hip bones touched his. 
A synchronized moan fell from your and Rick’s mouths, both of your head lulling back in ecstasy.
Rick wasn’t even moving yet and he was already stretching and filling you perfectly.
Suddenly, Rick was taking charge, which only added to your arousal.
He gave you a second to adjust to his size, letting you wriggle in his lap until you found an angle that was comfortable.
His hand tapped the side of your leg, prompting you to start moving.
You rotated between bouncing on his lap and rolling your hips, making sure that the satisfaction went both ways.
It was intoxicatingly perfect.
The way he felt stretching you and hitting every bundle of nerves possible.
The hot kisses and the heavy touches were everything you had ever dreamed of with Rick.
Your bounces were met by his thrusts, hitting your g-spot in the most flawless way.
You knew it wasn’t going to take long to get off. 
This had been building up for far too long for your climax to be drawn out.
“Fuck, you’re perfect. Feel so good.” He babbled, cheeks flushed and pupils blown.
His head was reeling, and he wasn’t sure that he was totally comprehending what was happening right now.
All he knew is that he didn’t want this to be the first and only time.
His cock throbbed inside of you, his own release begging to be spilled out into you.
You felt the twitch, and that in and of itself is what caused your orgasm to break out all over you.
You came with a squeaky moan, your entire body tensing up around him as your head fell to his shoulder and your hands gripped the back of the seat.
He thrusted a couple more times before he came as well, his release spurting into you and milking his cock white as he groaned out your name.
Your bodies went limp, chests heaving with heavy breaths and post-coital sighs.
His hand rubbed up and down your back slowly, his cum leaking out of you and onto his bare thighs.
A few minutes of silence passed before you raised your head.
Your dilated eyes met his, and what you saw was pure lust and content.
Most importantly, you could see the anticipation through his eyes, all the way to his soul.
You weren’t sure why, but something in your gut told you that this wouldn’t be the last time that you fucked Rick Grimes.
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admiralrazorbeard · 2 years
Text
Razorbeard's (Anatomically Correct) Mouth
I seem to get this question a lot. I have decided to go into detail in the hopes of providing some answers. Yes, here it is. For the first time recorded in history, I present to you my oh so mysterious mouth.
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Before we begin with the features, I must make a very important distinction.
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With that out of the way...
Robo-Pirates don't have "teeth," we have MASHERS.
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Mashers are small metal blocks that can move up and down, firing like pistons. They can fire at rapid speeds and with crushing force. Some mashers have angular tips that can extend when necessary, raising to create sharper points.
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While we can still eat normal foods, consuming greases or oils and especially metals are necessary for survival.
But because robot diets mainly include consuming various types of metals our mashers would need to equal or surpass the crushing power of a hydraulic press. (Sidenote:  When I say “robot” for the remainder of this post, I am referring specifically to my own species.  Not all robots in the known Universe.)
These examples are ranked in order of strength, the top being the weakest.
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Carbon Fiber
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Aluminum
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Stainless Steel
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Regular Steel (Strongest)
Notice that even the hydraulic press had some trouble completely crushing the strongest material, that being the regular steel.
To give you some perspective on size to strength ratios consider the following...
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My mashers happen to be on the smaller side of things. Comparing them to pocket change here gives you a rough estimate of the size of most of my mashers, but even still I have others that are much smaller than that.
My mashers function just as good as any other robot's, and even for their size I would be able to crush up regular steel much more efficiently than the hydraulic press I showed you earlier.
Warning: Do not stick your hands in the robot's mouth.
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BONE
Mashers have to be able to tear and chew up metals into small bits in order for them to be burnt down in our stomachs and recycled back into our bodies.
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Considering that there are much tougher metals out there in the universe than those you may be familiar with on Earth, I can say with great confidence and ease that even our rudimentary mechanics are far more advanced and powerful than anything known to Earth.
"Salivary" Secretions - Much like humans salivate in order to lubricate food chunks for easy passage down into the digestive system, robot mouths can secrete oils and greases in order to lubricate substances being consumed.
Much of the oils and greases that we consume as a part of our diets are used to keep our internal systems healthy and can also be recycled into different parts of our bodies to help with various processes. The mouth is one such example.
Swallowing Substances - For humans and many other animals the tongue and cheeks work together, moving food between the teeth so it can be chewed. Tongues are then used to help swallow foods.
For robots, once the substances are chewed up and torn apart by our mashers, mashers will then move in a synchronized wave like pattern to move substances to the throat pipe.
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Alright. Let's talk about lips. Robot lips aren't the same as human lips. No surprise there. When we say "lips" we are usually referring to the "edge" of something and not a pair of moving, squishy-face-lines.
Lip style can vary between robots, but for me personally, my lips feature a second set of "teeth."
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The area seen in the picture above has been magnified to show what these "teeth" look like. These are not mashers, but are small raised points creating serrated edges.
HOWEVER...the black coloration you see on my lips is actually a tar-like substance. Think of something soft and malleable, yet firm.
The best example I have? Eh...
Have you ever stepped on those black lines in the parking lot on a hot summer day and found that they aren't fully solid? That they seem almost squishy?
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This stuff. (So scientific. I know.)
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This is very similar to the substance that can be seen covering my head and face behind my beard, and also covering the decorations on the sides of my head. You can also see my mouth bottom and lips are covered in this as well.
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The malleable property of this substance allows me to create a tight seal when I close my mouth, and, to an extent, I can actually stretch them small amounts at will to cover up my secondary set of teeth or even move them to match the shape of objects entering my mouth.
So in a way, MY lips have some similar properties to a human's lips but only because of the tar substance covering it. And yes, if you're curious I can actually make somewhat of a smile or a frown if I really try, but I'm very limited in these motions.
Fun fact: Robot bodies naturally produce tar and crude oils, however seeing a robot who has this visible on the outside of their body is actually very rare. This tar like substance grows from my face in certain areas and requires constant maintenance. Around my face and eyes it can actually start to droop if left growing for too long without scraping the excess off. As for my decorations if I let it grow for too long all that happens is that they thicken up in size as the layers accumulate. In some photos you may notice that my decorations change in shape or thickness slightly and this is because I can style them in different ways depending on how long I let the tar grow. This is also how I'm able to grow "hair." All it really is, is excess tar growing from the top of my head which I can have styled so it looks nice. ★
Might as well. 
And I can even have it dyed and cured so the color will stain through. My favorite color to dye my decorations is blue, or I leave it black. And as for my hair I either leave it black or dye it red. We even have a salon on the ship for these things but I'll have to tell you more about THAT another time...
That's all for now. Until next time.
× ARB
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
References:  
INCORRECT Photo - Rayman: The Animated Series
Correct Photo - Rayman 2: The Great Escape
Pistons GIF - https://youtu.be/DAgWzvx46J0 
Metal GIFs (1-4) - https://youtu.be/BaSXRoD2xaQ
Bone GIF - https://youtu.be/os98s9kBlOI
Asphalt Crack Sealer 1 - https://images.app.goo.gl/gzWgrrw6AfN3CB7g9
Asphalt Crack Sealer 2 - https://images.app.goo.gl/eZL1GbPuRrXvTRBbA
All other diagrams and images belong to me.  
(Art Created 2/22/2020)
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stripper-patrick · 3 years
Text
China Doll 🎎Andy Barber
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Part 1
Part 2
Warnings: smut, language, daddy kink, straight up nastiness, dom!Andy, face sitting, angst, protected, this is a 2 parter
Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl
Relationship: Andy Barber x black plus sized reader
Being an intern for Andy Barber was fun so far. In the year that I’ve worked here I’ve been treated with nothing but respect and to say my boss was eye candy was an understatement. Yet he’s married. Me and Andy have gained an amazing repertoire with each other becoming more so friends that boss and intern. It’s just his coworkers who have yet to respect me and I don’t wanna day anything because they have more seniority than I do and I don’t wanna damage my internship
“Blondie file these for me” Neal drops an entire stack of files on my desk on top of the stack I already have and by the looks of it I’ll be here all night. Neal was the one who hired me but I sort of migrated to working with Andy majority of the time. I cut him a side eye and he smirks staring at me with lingering eyes that don’t reside on my face, more so on my breasts. I wish I could slap that smirk off his face. He’s the only who calls me Blondie because he doesn’t see my intelligence yet if I weren’t smart I wouldn’t be an intern at the most prestigious law incorporation in the world.
“Don’t call me that Neal I’ve told you before” I stand my ground daring him to do it again with my fierce eyes.
“Blondie” he chuckles walking away from me and I groan rubbing my hands over my face.
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I grab my midnight green iPhone 11 Pro Max and tap twice on it revealing the time. 7:32. I’ve been here for almost 10 hours. I stretch my neck rolling it and I stand up stretching allowing my shirt to to rise above my belly button showing my piercing. I let it fall and a door opens. That’s when I see Andy. Face long and tired but nonetheless he still works harder than ever.
“Hey China Doll I didn’t know you were still here” I nod. I’ve been told he calls me China doll because of my big pretty brown eyes. In Andy’s words not my own.
“Yea Neal is making me file all of these”
“Fuck him lets go to a bar” I chuckle at his jokes and vulgarity only to see he’s dead serious
“As much as I wish I could leave he’d fire on and this isn’t even a real job”
“Y/N I wouldn’t let him do that you’re my best girl here and frankly most hard-working” although this was true it’s something about the term ‘my best girl’ that leaves guilty butterflies floating in my stomach. Guilty because he’s married with a child “come on I’ll buy all your rounds” he smiles
“You don’t have to” I set down the files and grab my purse. I save and log out of my computer. Andy leads the way and I follow suit. He pulls the door open letting me go through before turning off the lights and locking up. We head outside to his Audi and my Lexus.
“I’ll follow you”
“Ok I know a bar just down the way” I nod and get in my car watching Andy get in his. I take a deep breath turning the engine. I’m really heading to a bar with my boss’s boss.
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Me and Andy are about 2 shots in and we’re giggling like children “ok take a shot if you’ve ever been blackout drunk” I watch Andy grab his glass as I grab my last and he watches me turn the glass letting the acidic liquid glide down my throat. I grab a lime sucking on it to decrease the taste of the brown liquor.
“You’ve never been blacked out?” He had one more shot that hasn’t been touched meaning I lost the game. Now that I’m really looking at him he looks hot. Maybe that’s the liquor getting to my head but it’s just something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel hot. “No my friends have but I haven’t”
“You wanna know something?” I smile leaning forward unconsciously. He does the same mocking me with a playful smile.
“I didn’t think you were this laid back. I was honestly scared of you” I laugh hiccuping
“I get more laid back than this” he smirks with suggestive eyes that create a pool in my underwear “Can I tell you something?” He asks
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking about you since the day you walked through those doors” and that’s when it began. The room got hot and my cheeks were flushed with sexual blush. That’s when I realized I wanted him right then and there.
“Do you mind if we leave?” I ask
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We bust through the door of my apartment and his hands are kneading my ass all while picking me up to wrap my legs around his hips. His soft lips are clad to mine and his perfect teeth graze at my bottom lip. I open my mouth inviting his tongue. The taste of tequila and mint consume me along with his powerful cologne that makes my knees buckle. Andy tears off my button down revealing the lacy red bra. He holds me up with one hand and the other moves to my hair pulling me back. He picks a broad stripe up my neck ending it with a hard duck making my clit jump.
He gets me to my bedroom laying me down and slithering up to my lips. I flip us around taking control as I kiss his neck. My skirt is hiked up to my waist and I pull it over my head throwing it on the floor. I grab the bottom of his shirt lifting it over his head discarding it with the rest of the clothes.
I feel how hard Andy is under me making me grind on him harder. He slaps the side of my ass. He grabs my throat pulling me down to his lips. He lets go of my lips with a smack and moves his lips to my ear kissing me softly “sit on daddy’s face” I couldn’t be wetter. With confidence I pull off my underwear and place both of my thighs on each side of his head resting my dripping pussy on his lips. Right off the bat Andy sucks my clit like a lollipop and my hands rest on top of his that are on my hips.
My body has a mind of its own as I rock against his hips. I look down at his steel blue eyes glimmering in the dim lamp light looking back at me. He lets out a beautiful moan and I bite my lip exhaling sharply. His tongue moves from my clit to my inside slurping me straight from the source. “Just like that” I moan. My right hand unclasps my bra taking it off and my other hand moves to his head keeping him steady as I ride his face. My moans get louder as he goes back to flicking my clit in a fast motion not hesitating to press his blunt nails into my hips holding me down.
Andy wraps his lips around my clit sucking on me like a leech. My vision becomes hazy, partly because the liquor is still in my system, as he keeps me in the same spot not able to move. My breath becomes more shallow and I try pulling off of his face feeling the pleasure become unbearable “it-it’s too much daddy it’s too much” I moan in a rushed tone He continues his assault until I’m screaming his name and cumming in his mouth. I hear his vulgar smacks and moans from under me making my body rock that much harder. Andy stops moving completely letting me ride out my orgasm on his face holding direct eye contact. This man is the devil.
Andy finally lets me go and he unlatches from me with a smack. I come off of his face watching his beard glisten and a smile on his face. “Fuck me please” I lean down kissing him tasting myself on his lips and tongue. My hand glides over his stomach grabbing his dick but he quickly grabs my hand flipping us around and pinning me to the bed. “Are you ready for it?”
“Yes daddy” Andy pulls down his boxers and he wasn’t lacking in neither width or length (I know y’all saw that Chris Evans leak😏). My jaw drops at his size and he chuckles “I haven’t seen that in a long time” he grabs a condom rolling it on getting prepared.
He starts with the head stretching me out a little. Now here goes the hard part. Andy keeps inching in me as I breathe through the pressure of my walls expanding accepting him gracefully. Once my clit is rubbing against his pelvis he’s fully inside of me, Andy starts off with small strokes along with peppering kisses along my face and jawline. “Faster daddy. Harder” he chuckles at my requests pulling out completely leaving me empty. Before I can demur he plunges back into me leaving my mouth wide open. Andy is rhythmic making sure I feel each and every inch when he reenters me with such passion. “Fuck you’re so tight. I gotta stretch that pretty little pussy out”
“Please stretch it out daddy fuck” my nails glide down his back which I know will leave marks. Andy’s hips ripple into mine with such force that drives my eyes to the back of my head. My jaw drops and Andy comes down kissing me with such passion if I were standing I’d be dizzy by now. He bites my lip still drilling me, my breathing is ragged and my moans are so loud my voice is getting hoarse “such a good little slut for me aren’t you princess”
“Yes yes yes” as he continues thrusting leading us both to the edge that wallowing coup de Grace is close to its mark. Andy wraps his hand around my throat squeezing to make me dizzy but I still have limited air. I bite my lip feeling his necklace hit the bottom of my chin. “Look at me when I make you cum” it’s damn near impossible but I manage to watch him. I grab the sheets and my body rocks as he pounds me through my soul shattering orgasm. Andy’s eyes close and he leans down placing his head in my neck never losing rhythm. “Fuck” he grabs the back of my neck pressing our foreheads together as he fills me with his seed mewling out. He starts slowing down once he’s bottoming himself out and comes to a stop leaving me sore but still very happy. Andy pulls out rubbing my clit making me jolt with how sensitive I am. He throws away the condom and lays next to me while I throw my arm across his chest. He cuddles me closer pushing me into a deep well needed sleep.
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I feel the sun poking through my curtains and a raging headache that’s making me dizzy. I notice I’m extra warm and I feel an arm around my waist and something poking me in my butt. I look back seeing Andy asleep and I smile then my smile fades and turns into a horrible frown. I tap Andy’s shoulder and he stirs in his sleep before opening his eyes. His phone vibrates in his jeans and he gets up grabbing it. His face goes blank and he answers the call “hey Laurie”
My jaw drops and I drop my head in my hands. I feel nauseous. Andy ends the conversation and looks at me “did we have sex last night?”
It’s a silly question I can feel the soreness between my legs. I stand up out of bed nearly falling over again from how weak my legs are.
“We did and that was Lauie” he says running his hands over his face. I start panicking and sit back on the bed. Obviously it’s clear he sees it. Andy comes over towering over me. He gets down on one knee lifting my leg over his shoulder kissing it softly “Andy you’re wife just called and I know she’s worried sick- oh fuck” his plump lips wrap around my clit “Andy we can’t- oh god” my back arches and I grab his head with the intent to move him away but my hands bring him closer as my breathing picks up. My hips roll along his face and I bite my lip as he continues sucking on my clit like he didn’t just assault it last night. “Andy we’re gonna be late for work Jesus”
“Mhmm” he hums going deeper and using 2 fingers to work at my entrance. He curls those 2 fingers sucking on my clit and hitting my g-spot like no tomorrow until I’m left leaking on his tongue and crying out his name. My legs shake trying to close his head in yet I want him away as the overbearing pleasure dizzies me.
“That’s my girl” he moans cleaning me completely. Andy stands up and I lay back just staring at the ceiling “come on now we’re almost late” he winks
“Wait I need to get my car”
“Ok I’ll wait for you to get ready” and that’s just what he does. Occasionally his wife would call and he’d talk to Jacob before school but other than that he was right there.
I’m all ready and dressed in a tight dress and he grabs his jacket that he had on last night. We get in Andy’s car and he drives off to the bar around the corner. Just watching him drive made me want a round 2 but he had a family to go home to and though I’ve already done so I don’t wanna interrupt that. Yet I already have. The guilt feeling consumes me again making me nauseous and overly dizzy.
“Andy pull over” I wretch and he obliges. I open the door vomiting whatever little food I had the night before. I cough letting all of my contents out while feeling Andy’s large hand rubbing my back. Once I’m finished he pulls over to my car and hands me some water. I gargle it walking to the back of the car spitting it out. I go in my purse and grab a piece of gum “I’ll let you know when I make it to the office” I make it to my car and he opens the door for me.
“Ok and Y/N” I look up at his dazzling blue eyes that are softened on me “I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this. I don’t regret it”
I nod and close my door pulling off.
99 notes · View notes
idga-buck · 4 years
Text
use somebody || eight
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pairing: harry x plus-size!reader
word count: 2,000
warnings: swearing
summary: the morning after, wink
challenge: @baezen​‘s the Other Guys Writing Challenge
previous // masterlist  // next
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Harry woke the next morning to the sight of your back turned toward him, sleeping half on your stomach while clutching a pillow. Your hair was a mess, but he didn’t hesitate to brush some of it away, making room for his fingers to slide up the back of your neck. It was just enough movement for you to stir, turning to face him without opening your eyes.
“Good Morning, sunshine,” he whispered, shuffling his body across the mattress until you were close enough to hold. You responded, not with words, but by throwing one of your arms around his back, fingers immediately finding the hem of his t shirt to slip under. Your palm was a welcome warmth against bare skin. He smiled to himself and leaned in to press his lips between your eyebrows, chuckling to himself when they furrowed and tickled his nose. He hadn’t planned to fall back asleep, but with your fingers making tight little circles against his back and your breath warming his chin, the boy was out cold again in a matter of minutes.
Harry failed to savor the feeling of waking up next to someone, without the stink of regret or confusion spoiling the sweetness. So he wasn’t surprised to find himself alone in bed when he woke the second time that morning. When wandered out of your bedroom, he found you sitting cross legged on the couch in front of him, shorts riding up your thighs to reveal light dimples that would look better with his fingers digging into them as he-
“Hey, hey,” you called out, pulling from what was about to become a very saucy daydream. Fuck. He was a man with his fair share of morning wood experiences, but this level of fantasizing this early in the day was new. He tilted his chin up in a silent greeting and ambled over to join you, falling into you and the thick brown cushions like a rag doll. You fought the intrusion momentarily, but soon gave in and Harry sunk deeper into an unexpected comfort as his head landed against your thigh.
“You gonna run away to work again?” He asked casually, taking his time to get comfortable with one of his leg thrown over the back of the couch, the other bent at the knee with his foot on the floor.
“Comfy?” You looked down at him in an easily dissolved annoyance. He shifted once, mm twice more, before giving you a sarcastic thumbs up and folding his hands on his chest, head tilted back at an almost uncomfortable angle to smile up at you. You rolled your eyes, but answered him anyway. “No, not this time. I actually have the weekend off.” Harry’s face must have lit up like a child’s. The next thing he knew, you were laughing and he was launching himself off the sofa. “So now you’re leaving?” You called out after him as he made his way back into your bedroom.
“Yep,” he answered, spinning in his socks to find you up and following him around the corner. “But you’re coming too.”
“Am I?”
Harry was already pulling his jeans back on when you entered the room. Without him answering, you walked right through the bathroom and into the large closet on the other side, presumably to join him in the land of the clothed. When he was dressed, he started toward the bathroom before thinking better of it. He’d made himself quite comfortable in your presence already, but watching you get dressed for the day felt like skipping a few steps. Even if you hadn’t turned down any of his affection yet. At least not yet that day. You had the first time you slept together, but something felt different about last night. Harry didn’t spend too much time thinking about it, solely focused on making sure it happened again. Soon.
“Yeah,” he projected from his seat on the bed. Boy that felt familiar, but also brand new. “I gotta place near here, best burritos you’ve ever had in your life.” His promise echoed through the bathroom and soon you emerged, half dressed and looking at him like a mad man.
“You’re taking me out?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m hungry and I owe you a meal, maybe a couple.”
“You don’t owe me anythi-“
“Fine,” he stood and crossed the room, stopping in front of you with his hands on your arms. “I want to take you out. Is that okay with you?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so bold with a woman, but really is it bold when you’ve been dancing around each other for as long as you had?
You pondered the question for longer than he expected, but the second his grin started to wither in worry, your smile returned and brought his back to life. “Fine, I’d like that-“
“Great!”
“But I have to burst your bubble.” Harry frowned and gave you a hard look. “Wherever you think we’re going, I know a place with better burritos.”
“No way, José,” he said in an accent so awkward he physically cringed. “Besides, you don’t know where we’re going, it might be the same place.”
You looked at the shoes on his feet and shook your head. “We’re definitely not talking about the same place.” Without another word, you slipped by, leaving him alone in your bedroom and so so confused.
Harry found you standing in your kitchen, feet still bare as you stood halfway between the island and the refrigerator, shuffling ingredients from one hand to the other. He looked around the airy space, almost entirely white yet still homey and welcoming. “There is no way you cook in here.”
“Who do you think does it, then?” Your smile is real and it’s taunting him and Harry finds himself fresh out of clever quips, so he slides a wicker top stool to the other side of the island and makes himself comfortable. You work so efficiently, he has no room to argue with you. 
“Okay,” you turn to face him with a serious expression that makes him straighten in his seat. “I have to warn you, it’s so good, that you’ll probably fall in love with me.” His laughter carried across the counter. “I mean it,” you were trying not to smile, but it wasn’t working. “-but try to remember, Harry... it’s just your stomach, not your heart, okay?”
Clearly you are very comfortable in the kitchen, but it goes beyond that. Knife skills he’s only seen on tv, the blade rocking expertly over the thick butcher block as you feed green onions and red peppers under every quick pass with your fingers tucked for safety. When you ask if he wants breakfast or lunch and he says both, he stands to watch up close as you crack eggs into a bright green mixing bowl with one hand. Chopsticks are in the second drawer to his left, or so you tell him, gesturing with your elbow as you pull cheese and butter from the fridge. Harry is your beautiful assistant as you perform culinary magic on the gas burner. It clicks to life with a blue glow and the vegetables smell like heaven and you’re using the chopsticks to beat the eggs into the smallest fluffiest curd he’s ever seen and his hands are meeting yours on a plate to wrap a wide tortilla around everything that’s sliding out of your pan. You won’t let him eat until there’s a handsome pour of salsa over the dish and you’ve grated more cheese directly onto it. He doesn’t even see where you pull fresh parsley from, but he can smell it as your fingers tear leaves from stem in a garnish that shouldn’t look so at home on something as simple as a breakfast burrito. You spin the squared off plate on the counter and it stops in front of him. Again. Magic.
“I can’t eat this with my hands though,” he complains half heartedly and your eyes roll so hard he wonders how many of his jokes he can risk before your eyes are stuck in the back of your head. Without a word, the beautiful plate before him slides away and another appears with a jar of label free salsa on the side. “Much better.”
Harry joins you at the round dining table halfway between your kitchen and living room and dammit it all if you weren’t right. It’s the best burrito he’s ever had in his life, but with eggs and cheese, adding a gooeyness so decadent and delicious he doesn’t even notice the lack of meat. He doesn’t bother trying to mask his moans and feels little shame over palming his breakfast, stretching his neck out over the table so any droppings land on his plate instead of his lap. You don’t seem put off by it and even reach across to wipe something from higher on his cheek than the food should have been able to reach.
You’re a chef, he finally knows what you do for a living and it all comes together. How picky you were over Darius’ kitchen, how comfortable you were in your own. Even the connections you had at Taix, it fits. Harry isn’t pleased that it’s taken him this long to ask, but the big reveal is so delicious he quickly decides he doesn’t care. You laugh when he applauds your performance and you admit that it’s not always like that. In a kitchen, you don’t have time to plate or play, someone else does that and lately, you haven’t had an audience at all. He asks if you were showing off a bit and you don’t have to say anything for him to know it’s true. The suddenly meek way you look away from him is enough. It’s not what he’s come to expect from you, but he likes this part too. He can’t tell if it’s because you like him or because you love what you do. Maybe both. He hopes for both.
It’s probably rude, definitely tacky, but he’s already been naked for you, so he doesn’t think asking about the money is really off limits, but you stiffen slightly before answering. The answer is comfortable, like you’re happy to talk about it, but something is off. Maybe the way he asked?
“I’ve worked in… shit a lot of your big kitchens in town, under a lot of big names, talented guys. I appreciate it,” you said softly and he almost believed you. “But you don’t make anything for yourself when someone else’s name is on your coat, you know? It’ll always be Wolfgang Puck’s food, but they were my hands.” Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding about the big names. “So I left the commercial business a couple years ago.” Harry asked you to go on and learned that you were a personal chef. Obviously making great money and feeding some of LA’s pickiest eaters without all the flash. You took meetings with their fancy nutritionists, spiritualists, whoever, made up their meal plans, prepped dishes for them every week, and ran a whole business out of your own home. Very clearly out of his league.
“Anyone I know?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows and running his hip into yours as you loaded the dishwasher.
“I can’t tell you that,” you checked him back before bending slightly to add detergent. Harry dried his hands on a towel that he tossed lazily onto the counter before stepping up behind you. Your little jump at the surprise only pushed your ass into him and made him groan. Hands on your hips and back, Harry leaned over you, letting you feel all of him on your back. “Harry…”
“What?” He asked innocently, straightening himself out to follow your lead, but without fully removing himself from your body. His lips were on the side of your face, hands rubbing everything he could reach and despite the warning tone you used with him, he felt you leaning back into him, felt your fingers dig into his legs.
“Don’t you have to go soon?” You asked, but it was a breathless question as you guided one of his hands under your shirt to your chest. No bra this time and Harry fell forward, catching himself on your counter with his other hand to trap you between him and the white cupboard, squeezing and playing and letting the sounds of your quiet sigh spur him on. 
“What if I want to stay?” He asked into your shoulder and you turned to face him, his hand still in place up the front of your shirt, mouth now hovering over yours.
“Then stay.”
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9 notes · View notes
blankdblank · 5 years
Text
Anaticula Pt 30
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Goblet of Fire Year!! Finally!! Lot’s of changes, hope you like them!! :D
Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13 - Pt 14 - Pt 15 - Pt 16 - Pt 17 - Pt 18 - Pt 19 - Pt 20 - Pt 21 - Pt 22 - Pt 23 - Pt 24 - Pt 25 - Pt 26 -  Pt 27 - Pt 28 - Pt 29 -
A doorbell tore you from your sleep as it echoed through the Black Family Home. Stretched out across the couch in the sitting room after a late night in helping to mend a gash on Arturo’s leg from accidentally flying too close to a horned bush leading to his place on a pile of cushions inside the house near the fireplace, sound asleep from the medicine you had given him to keep him from picking at his bandages. Brushing your curls from your face you sat up finding Neville grumbling as the pillow on your legs he was using shifted stirring him as well. “Sorry Neville.”
He sat up rubbing his eyes, “Who is it?”
Draco on the couch across from you groaned from under his own pillow, “Beaten and flogged. That’s what dad always shouts when there’s guests before noon.”
You giggled softly eyeing K entering the room with Snape and Barty behind him smirking while holding a magazine to his chest. “Morning Sevy,” that made Draco’s head pop up and him rise to his knees letting his blanket clump up under him when he shifted to sit draping his legs off the couch as they sat beside him after passing you the magazine.
Potions Monthly, on the cover you eyed the new cauldron a shop in Diagon Alley was featuring, “Freezing Cauldrons?”
Snape shook his head pointing at it, “Page 73. I folded it over.” You flipped through the magazine, “Your potion! It got featured in this month’s issue!”
Looking up at the teachers grinning at you wildly you said, “But, I haven’t even gotten my results back on my OWLS yet.”
Barty, “Yes, but! A Fifth year brewing a successful Potion of All Potential! No one has tried that! They’re talking about even extending the deadline for the Wizarding Potions Championships so you can compete in it, it’s every seven years and you didn’t qualify your first year.”
“What if I don’t want to-,”
Snape waved his hand, “Oh it doesn’t mean you have to compete, but just the statement that a student from Hogwarts had brewed that, is something in itself. Plus, Fred and George along with Cedric got a mention for their Draught of Living Death. All for Hufflepuff, great for the house pride. Graduates often fawn over their housemates and a great deal are boasting about Hufflepuff now, and not just Newt.”
Nodding your head you asked, “Do you want breakfast?”
Barty, “Breakfast would be lovely, thank you.” Standing as you did, “The Weasleys aren’t here?”
Neville, “Oh, no, Ginny had the flu, sort of ran rampant. Percy was here though, but I think he left for his Ministry job though with Regulus.”
Snape, “Percy lives here now?”
You nodded in the kitchen levitating the kettle to the sink to fill up as you brought out some eggs you started to crack open to scramble with some cheese, “Ya, he um, got offered a position working near Fudge. Arthur, well, you know how Fudge is, so Percy thought it best he got his own place and we reminded him he’s always welcome here and it’s better than him shacking up in some hole somewhere. Better he be home where we can drag him to bed when he drops.”
Snape chuckled, “Well, I am certain working near Fudge he will have plenty of those nights.”
With the clearing of breakfast plates your head turned at the arrival of the mail falling in a pile in the center of the table you sorted. Leaving those for your father and uncles aside only to pause at the pale blue letter for you along with the one from Hermione atop the thick one from Luna barely half the size of the one for Neville. Barty eyed the letter asking, “Can’t be another funeral.”
You chuckled and turned it over saying, “One way to know.” Breaking the seal to pull out the letter you summarized, “They wish me well. And are traveling to England again, hoping that we might spend some more time together realizing that they hadn’t learned very much about Mum and me, how we grew up.”
Snape lowered his cup, “Hmm. That should be-,”
You sighed lowering the letter, “How exactly am I supposed to butter up the small house in Godric’s Hollow after living with Muggles?”
Barty, “Again, you’re here and magnificent and if they can’t tolerate how you’ve grown up then they can walk.”
Making you giggle again and Snape to say, “No matter their quarrels with the path to get here you are in fact here and not a thing they can do will change any of what you have faced.”
It was a week and with Regulus at your side you met with Vivienne and Ollivier again. For the morning you shared with them you guided them through what you knew of your mother’s childhood. Leading up to your guiding them to Godric’s Hollow where they paused taking in the lovely little sealed up cottage you lived in ending with a stop at her headstone where the pair of them were on the edge of weeping seeing the statue with your name etched into the headstone beside hers.
For lunch however the pair were excited to know that they were invited to your home, of which they both forgot how to breathe in realizing the size of the literal palace sized home hidden through the doorway of Grimmauld Place. At least in your hidden portion of your childhood you had been shown some semblance of comfort they had hoped you would be shown with your Noble bloodlines.
On the tail of a small growth spurt you finally enjoyed the lack of reasoning for the few mildly teasing comments you would get at the vast difference in height to the twins, especially after they had seemed to sprout up a few inches more in their sickbeds. But after they were all mended you got word that you were expected at the Burrow that had been freshly disinfected and as the allotted two weeks had concluded you packed your things and made the trip off to fetch Harry on your father’s bike. On the late morning drive you ensured to choose a weekday so that the street would be mostly empty to keep their reputation in tact.
In a low idling hum you pulled up to the house and shifted the bike into park and killed the engine then stood straddling the bike in Petunia’s curious peek out the window at you catching your quick wave. Stepping off the bike you swung your leg over and strolled around it towards the front door that she opened for you eyeing the bike over your shoulder before noticing that you were her height nearly flat footed now, “Jaqi, your father’s I presume?”
You nodded, “Yes. Don’t worry I made sure the muffling charm was intact and it is the busy hours for your neighbors so not many are home to notice. Ministry’s been busy so I couldn’t catch a ride and Arthur said something about the Muggle bus system being off limits for a month, not sure why.”
She moved aside to welcome you in, “Arthur?” Looking you over inspecting your open flannel over a tank top and worn jeans tucked into your boots.
“Oh, Arthur Weasley, practically a second dad. I told you about Fred and George,” she nodded, “he’s their father.”
She nods, “Ah, and he is highly ranked to ban travel?”
“Oh, not, really, he mainly works with Muggles, protecting them. Like when magical creatures or objects are found by Muggles he’s one of the Aurors sent to fix things. So, I was half distracted at the time with an injured Hippogriff and I caught half of it, just to stay clear of the Muggle busses for a bit. But dad’s bike is good and I do have my license for it. Took some doing but then again Alastor told the committee either they approve my application or I just fly it without one.”
She smirked at you pouring you some tea in the cup she pulled out for you, “16, I can remember Jewel at 16. If you are half a handful as she was this Ministry of yours will have their work cut out for them for you at my age.”
You giggled stirring in the additions to your tea you then raised to sip on before hearing a soft, “Sirius?” outside before the door opened and Harry passed through it.
Petunia called out, “In here Harry.”
Through to the kitchen he walked and you flashed him a wave, “Dad had to work, sorry to let you down.”
Harry smirked, “Who gave you a license?”
With a smirk you fired back, “Who killed your barber?” Teasing at his longer hair.
Making him shake his head and turn to head up to his bedroom, “I’ll pack.”
Looking to Petunia again she asked, “So, these exams of yours, any word yet?”
You shook your head, “Not yet. Few weeks still. But I did hear that my potion I brewed for it got mentioned in Potions Monthly. One of the rarest and most complicated to brew correctly.”
Her grin spread in asking, “Well that can only be good then.”
“I believe so. However I do still have 11 more classes I’m waiting on.” Through the clattering upstairs she asked more questions about your school and the visit from your great grandparents until she had to go shopping for a visit from one of Vernon’s client that night freeing you to head outside and start up the bike once Harry had climbed into the sidecar.
For nearly an hour you chatted with Harry sharing the little he had missed in his two weeks away that ended with your pulling up to the street leading up to the Burrow you landed on and drove the rest of the way to the turn in the drive to park beside where Arthur parks his car. Harry chuckled climbing out saying, “I’m still a bit concerned on how you managed to get that license.”
Smirking at him you said, “Alastor might have reminded the committee that I am capable of driving this magnificent bike with or without one.”
He chuckled saying, “Ah, there it is. Blackmail.”
You giggled replying in the walk to the house as he pulled Hedgewig’s cage from the sidecar and joined you, “Well it does have my name in it. If that’s what they force me to do-,”
At your side he peered up at you saying, “I really do hope Percy can do something about how they talk about you.” At the door you paused to open it looking at him, “I know Ron and them hate his job with Fudge, but if he can do anything there I hope he makes it easier on you.”
You rolled your eyes guiding him inside, “If they aren’t picking on me then who do you suppose they will attack next?” his brow raised and you said, “You, Harry. Closest to me in sass and stubbornness, you better hope they never stop picking on me.”
He rolled his eyes and went up to find Ron in his room as you went to the couch to plop down between the twins who both grabbed one of your legs to measure against theirs making you giggle through their joint hug, “Aww. Knew it had to kick in eventually.”
*
Little Hangleton sat silently on a dark moonless night. Through the assumed empty Riddle Manor atop the hill a secret meeting was taking place. Hooded figures knelt around a wingback chair while a raspy voice stated, “I need another.”
Within the Manor a massive snake slithered up through the halls, up the staircase and into the room passing an old vagabond in search of shelter frozen in fear at the snake. Softly she hissed out his presence to the being in the chair who then said, “Wormtail, show our guest inside. Show him in.”
Through the door Wormtail went and with a wave of his wand he brought the man up into the room where he was promptly killed by a wand extended from over the arm of the chair. The raspy voice spoke again to the hooded figure, “Find the Goblet, lay the hexes. You will not fail me again! You will ensure Potter is brought to me. And that girl, no one touches her, she is mine!”
Through a sharp gasp your eyes shot open only to see Fred covering your mouth muffling your shouts you were making in your sleep inside the muffling charm George was holding that dropped in their saying, “Just us Sis. Just breathe, just breathe.” Panting in the removal of his hand the pair of them nestled around you trying to ease your trembling until the lights through the house were switched on in a ripple and running steps were heard.
Ginny through the door of the twins room you shared with them called out, “Who’s screaming?”
Ron was heard next through his door he opened, “It’s just Harry. He had a nightmare.”
Through the wall beside you Neville and Draco were heard groaning trying to go back to sleep until George hurried to the door calling out, “Harry, What’d you dream? Jaqi had one too.”
That opened all the doors and Molly called out, “I’ll put on the kettle, everyone to the table!” In a groggy shuffle you all made your ways down and huddled between the twins both curling their arms around your back under your jet black braid the severity of the dream was made clear as Harry recited his first and then you confirmed it.
Ron, “So, Riddle’s back then…”
Draco, “Could you tell who the men in hoods were?” his eyes locked on yours intently.
“No. Aside from Riddle and Peter, no.”
Arthur counted on his fingers, “Alright, so, we have another snake, a hexed Goblet-,”
His eyes shifted to you and Sirius finished, “Along with a plot to get Harry and Jaqi.”
Regulus returned from the other room with another box of biscuits he had brought with him from your home, “Just sent a message off to Alastor. He’ll send up the signals for Dumbledore for this year.”
Neville, “Can’t imagine what’ll happen.”
Draco, “Can’t be worse than the door fiasco.”
Ginny chortled, “Oh, you mean like having that Ser guy attacking students?”
Finishing your tea you glanced up at Molly who refilled your cup after having filled Harry’s again giving your back a gentle stroke, “We’ll keep an eye out Deary.”
Remus panted in his walk through the enchanted doorway with his pajama shirt slightly askew pointing inside it, “We really need to clear the ground rules with Arturo. He was sleeping in my bed. Went to fetch my chocolate and he went berserk.”
George, “His defense you did startle him.”
Remus rolled his eyes passing you and Harry a half to the bar of chocolate he had managed to grab, “Right, shame on me. This will help.” His eyes lingering on you as Harry had mostly recovered and was nearing the request to head back to bed.
In finishing your second cup and the chocolate Fred said, “Come on, back to bed with you.”
George helped him get you to your feet and lead you back upstairs, curling you back into their beds they pushed together to snuggle around you again helping to coax you back to sleep with their tight hold on you. Soon joined by Draco and Neville behind them, the snuggling pile helped loads and by morning you were calmed enough to be able to shift your hair again and wonder at what the adults were planning on with their sneaking conversations.
Packed and ready for the camping trip Arthur had mentioned you awoke again in Fred’s bed across his back to the sound of shuffling through the floorboards stirring you off the gangly teen who woke at the loss of his blanket. George seemed to feel the loss as well raising his head with a narrowed gaze asking, “Hmm?”
“I think it’s time to get up.” You said planting your feet on the floor to stand and head to your bag to change from your shorts to your jeans leaving your tank top on you covered with a grey sweater you tugged the sleeves up to your elbows. Your boots were last to be added on the edge of the bed that soon bounced at the twins in their tan pants and brown striped sweaters joined you on other side of you. Shouldering your bags on your feet again you found your ways to join the line for the bathroom to brush your teeth and try to make yourselves presentable in case you ran into other humans.
Around the table through Arthur’s shouts for Ron and Harry you chatted with Hermione on her summer so far through your finishing the meal Molly sat down to herself at Arthur’s insistence. Finally together you made the walk out of the house and out into the long stretch of green in front of you. Nearly two hours you hiked until you caught sight of a figure atop a hill under a tall tree.
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“Is that-?”
The twins chuckled, “Ah, no wonder Ced’s been off the grid.”
Ron glanced over at you three, “What now? Who is that?”
Arthur trotted ahead with his hand extended, “Amos!”
Amos chuckled shaking his hand, “Bout time. Nearly missed it all.”
Arthur chuckled dropping his hand, “Sorry, some of us didn’t want to get out of bed.”
Cedric dropped from the tree branch above them straightening up showing his own growth spurt near to your height now on his way to you to claim hugs saying, “Sorry, dad swore me to secrecy.”
You shook your heads and Amos waved his hand, “Come now, we have to shove on.”
Following the fathers you trudged on ahead sharing with Cedric about your dream he listened carefully to questioning all he could think of hoping it might shake something free for you in his usual way until you reached an old boot. Gathering around it you guided Harry to grip it right before it sent you hurling through the sky.
Keeping hold of the trio you managed to float your way down to land in a slight wobble while the younger teens fell hard to the ground. In a hurry you moved to help Ginny and Hermione up while Draco and Neville steadied one another after their own shaky landing as Ron hopped up and Cedric helped Harry up off their backs.
Over another hill you all stood open mouthed at the sea of people and tents around you, Amos chuckled saying, “Welcome to the Quidditch cup!”
In a straight shot you went to Arthur’s side asking, “You got us tickets to this?!”
He nodded, “I know some people.” A loud laugh came from him at your crashing hug into his chest he returned kissing the top of your head, “Any time Love. Wouldn’t have you all missing this. Reg and Arti should be up in the box and Remus has paid for the recording, still a bit timid around fireworks.”
You stepped back and grinned in his guiding you towards the ticket booths, where you encountered a trio of cheerful muggles chattering about moving pictures and talking creatures they had seen in the time you had with them and in their greetings to the next people in line until their minds were wiped again at the next hour mark. Under Neville’s arm you strolled through the tent ground with Draco keeping hold of your free hand to keep from wandering off in his sharing the dread he felt in that he had to spend the game in the box up with his parents and Fudge.
All together though you helped to pitch up the tent you all entered and chose your spots to wait before the game while Amos and Cedric led Draco to meet up with his parents with the other top Aurors and more regrettably Fudge.
.
“How much further is it?” Ron grumbled at the seemingly endless stretch of stairs to your seats.
To which Lucius teased from below, “If it rains, you’ll be the first to know.”
Draco, “I’ll trade with you.”
Lucius looked to him with a brow raised, “Fudge is expecting us.”
Draco rolled his eyes mocking his voice in a poor gravely tone, “Fudge is expecting us.”
To which Lucius turned him while saying through your soft giggle, “I tried to switch boxes, but he kept changing the numbers of which he wanted. Damn fool, indecisive and superstitious, terrible mixture.” Adjusting the collar on Draco’s shirt he added, “After the match you can head back with them. I will try to keep him from hovering over you.”
Through your giggle you mumbled to Neville, “For all his Muggle hating ways he is quite the mother hen lately.”
Making Neville snort through Ginny’s stating, “Well of course, we stole his puppy and now he’s trying to win him back.”
High atop the stands you grinned eyeing all the faces in the thousands of seats filling the newly crafted stadium. The roars of the people died as Fudge took his place and announced the beginning of the match.
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At that for the introduction of the Kenmare Kestrals a green streak of light shot into the air and exploded revealing a dancing leprechaun stirring up the cheers again, “It’s the Irish!”
On a row of broomsticks you caught a wave of green soaring out of nowhere seemingly beginning a circle around the pitch in a downward spiral raising the cheers in passing those near them. An outcry sounded in the arrival of cloaked women who began to dance out on the pitch, clearly Veela in the attentions they were getting, drawing attention uncontrollably from men in the stands. Through that a spearhead of the Bulgarian National Team broke apart the leprechaun dancing above starting their own circle while the brother’s Krum split the apart, both doing various stunts on their bright red Nimbus’.
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To the flipping of signs in the crowd formed a giant mural the Bulgarian side made showing off images of their team they glanced around the stands only to pause in staring over at your section. A call from their teammates broke their focus and snapped them back into the game.
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Each rough pass and barely managed save from Ireland gave them a vast lead over Bulgaria. Though for all the efforts of the younger bright eyed man bun bearing Krum, Sebastian, tried to win over your attention and favor in the match while Viktor kept making circles stealing glances over at your group until he finally spotted the snitch. In their terrible lull in points the capture managed to bring them back to a respectable losing number so they could still hold their heads up high after the grueling match.
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In Ireland’s circling the pitch for their victory lap your eyes turned to the Krums in their approaching your group, Viktor holding the game snitch and Sebastian holding the game Quaffle. Straight to you and Hermione they came silencing your group, tenderly the pair claimed your hands to kiss your knuckles.
Their eyes remained fixed on yours, through Hermione’s creeping blush and your hair and eyes turning mint green. Watching along with the world when they raised the balls they wordlessly and wandlessly shrunk and added to white gold chains they folded in your palms they cradled in their palms for a moment before releasing them to fly back to their calling team who had to fly down and help get their Veela mascots away from Ireland’s Leprechauns.
Around you the twins lowly started to, “Ooh,” before you and Hermione shushed them only to break into awkward giggles at the pair taking your necklaces to drape around your necks while you stole glances at the distant Krum brothers giving you one final wave each then turned to head to their locker. Leaving the pitch and cheering crowd to the Kenmare Kestrals to soak in the adoration of the fans for their victorious idols.
On the couch beside Hermione in your hushed conversation as to what you had done to earn the attention Ron continued on about Viktor and his various feats in the game, “There’s no one like Krum.”
George, “Krum?”
Fred, “Dumb Krumb?”
Ron, “He’s like a bird, the way he rides the wind.” Twins circling him flapping their arms, “He’s more than an athlete.”
Twins, “Dumb Krum.”
Ron, “He’s an artist.”
Ginny, “I think you’re in love Ron.”
Ron, “Shut up.”
Twins singing, “Viktor, I love you, Viktor, I do.” Harry joins in, “When we’re apart my heart beats only for you.”
Clamoring outside grew, through which you glance at Arthur in his move to inspect the noise.
George, “Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on.”
Arthur rushed back in and you stand along with Hermione, “Stop! Stop it! It’s not the Irish. We’ve got to get out of here now.”  
You gasped in his telling glance your way mentally sharing what he’d seen, “Neville!” racing out of the tent to go fetch him from visiting Luna a few tent blocks over.
“Get back to the port key. Fred, George, Ginny is your responsibility! Go!”
Hermione and Harry run off one way, the twins the other, Harry inevitably being separated and knocked unconscious. In your own frenzy you managed to find Neville and guide him, Luna and her father toward the portkey, shoving Draco with them when you turned shifting into a Phoenix to try and fly overhead finding Harry and the others if they hadn’t escaped yet.
Far under you seas of people raced in frenzies while Death Eaters strolled cloaked through the tents lighting fires and hexing Muggles as they went. Again and again you circled without any sight of Harry but Hermione’s frenzied shouts for him brought you down to the ground beside her asking, “Harry’s gone?”
In the distance a flash of green appeared and you gasped at the giant Dark Mark in the sky then you raced onward as Hermione shouted his name again right beside you hearing Ron calling out his name in relief. Reaching the boys your body refused to stop at a hunch and you tackled them to the ground pulling Hermione with you just in time to hear dozens of Aurors shout, “Stupify!”
Red beams of light soared over your head and collided through Arthur shouting, “That’s my son!”
On your feet again you stood between Barty Crouch Sr and Harry while Arthur shielded the other two behind him, “You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!”
Harry, “What crime?”
Over your shoulder you answered, “Harry, that’s the dark mark, Riddle’s mark.”
His eyes rose to the mark lighting up the sky, then he said, “Those men before, in the masks, his followers?”
Arthur, “Death Eaters.”
Barty’s eyes looked you over, “I do not believe you are so innocent. Not with your family. Show me your wand!”
With a sigh through Harry’s protesting behind you your wand was drawn and presented to the Wizard, who turned and tapped it with his wand sending a stem of flowers to shoot out the end of your wand making him look at you, “Last spell I used was to help a friend in school make a bouquet for a project.” He sighed and passed it back to your dissipating the bouquet freeing you to sheath it again.
Off to your left however an envelope popped up and his wand was aimed at your throat, “Ah! Co-conspirators! The meet up location no doubt!” he said grabbing the envelope he tore open to pull out the folded paper inside that made his face drop before he passed you both, flatly saying, “Congratulations.”
His body turned and you quickly read over the simple note,
“Miss Black,
We hope this letter finds you well! It has been a rough deliberations but with much careful thought into the matter we are proud to welcome you among our ranks at Hippogriff and Hemlock. Further membership details and memorabilia will be arriving in the full package to your home shortly.”
Folding the paper you put into your back pocket you mumbled to yourself, “Your son was right, you are an ass.” To which Arthur chuckled along with the teens under their breath.
In his turn back to you Harry said pointing into the distance, “There was a man before, there.”
Barty sr, “Follow me. All of you, this way.”
Arthur, “Who was he?”
Harry, “I don’t know, I didn’t see his face.”
Moving to your side his hand settled in yours and he joined you on the long walk back through the charred field stealing glances at the miniaturized quaffle bouncing against your chest in the walk trying to remind himself of the match instead of focusing on that horrible dream of his and the masked man he linked to the one in your shared dream.
‘Attacks at World Cup!’ The headlines rushed across the world and through the articles were mingled assumptions that this was either an elaborate crime using Death Eaters as the scapegoats, that one drew the most scoffs from your group, or there were the few willing to risk Fudge’s wrath to say that the Death Eaters were back and that meant Riddle was right behind. But all of the papers followed with a soon whirlwind of a story Fudge no doubt forced ahead much to his ire.
By the following morning from the fifth page a picture of you and Hermione being ‘wooed’ by the Bulgarian brothers Sebastian and Viktor was followed by articles of pure gossip alluding that you had somehow met and held secret relationships across oceans. All with building hope that your relationship would blossom and build bridges between your worlds, all fashioned to be star crossed lovers the world seemed to be rooting for.
With your forehead on your crossed arms you groaned through Draco’s popping up to wave the paper, copying it then saying with said copy in hand, “This is going in the scrap book.”
You raised your head and looked at him only to hear Ron say, “The best article written about you so far. Worst bit of cover up fluff so far, but still, worth adding.”
You looked over at Hermione rereading it herself with brows furrowed in confusion, still lost like you were on why they had been drawn to you both at all.
(And yes, i did use Sebastian Stan as insp for Viktor’s twin brother. I am pitiful with making up names to explain why i didn’t change the name.) Hope you like it! More flirting and awkward teen moments to come in this frenzied year. :D
Pt 31
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