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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

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Imagine:

This is a request from @dashhoney25

Erik and his boo, London, make up for lost time. 😈

Warnings: LOTS of Smut, Rough sex, dirty talk. This shit...had me wet AF.

There are four levels of assassins: the novices, dilettantes, journeymen, and lastly masters. The masters, men with military or paramilitary backgrounds who travel to their contracts have few local ties that law enforcement can use. They excel at their craft, and operate quietly and without incident. In theory, the whispered meetings will be held in secret, the job will be executed with precision and grace, and no one will witness the escape. As a class one type assassin, Erik Killmonger was genetically enhanced in order to perform physical tasks much more efficiently than an average peak-human. To keep his skills in balance, Erik Killmonger practices his combat, shooting, assassination, and stealth skills whenever he is not on an assignment. He has over his life become a myth in the underworld due to his skills. Many doubt Erik Killmonger’s existence because of his skills in completing impossible assignments to the point that the FBI and CIA denies his existence…

Erik Killmonger spawned on a beach in Miami from his F470 Combat Rubber Raiding Craft at approximately 9:30 PM. He’s wearing a Roka wetsuit that provides luxurious comfort and no restrictions. The ocean waters emit a bright blue glow as the waves crashed and the tide came in because of tiny organisms called Lingulodinium polyedrum. With him, Erik Killmonger has on a pair of thermal imaging goggles resting on top of his tapered locs. Frontwards, Erik Killmonger spots two armed guards pacing in front of the architect-designed luxury beach home. Erik Killmonger tugged on the goggles, bringing them down over his onyx eyes. Both of them are carrying a GLOCK 19 and wearing crisp black suits and polished black dress shoes. One beefy man and the other looking about his weight and height. Good.

Erik Killmonger has mastered the art of stealth, being able to terminate multiple enemies in the same area one at a time and sneak up on almost anybody and quietly neutralize them. Erik Killmonger also has an expert level understanding of the use of disguises in order to access unauthorized areas of a location. He needed the disguise of one of the guards to get inside of the home so he could grab what he needed for his Nightcall mission. Keeping low, his body hidden by the Lyme grass that sprouted from the beach, Erik Killmonger spots a pool on the left side. Moving quickly, He walks inside the pool room and finds a tool box sitting on a surfboard table. Walking back out, he went around to the left side of the house until he saw the garage. Erik Killmonger uses the screwdriver that he picked out of the tool box to short-circuit the signal box, which will allow him to open up the garage door for access. He rounded a corner and parkour rolled, finding a good hiding spot.

“Man, this is a bust...what exactly are we guarding?” The beefy guard with a Glasgow smile and a clean shaven head says before taking a quick puff from his cigarette. He spoke with an Australian accent from what Erik Killmonger could pick up while hiding behind a cherry-red sports car.

“All I know is I’m getting paid,” The other guard that sounded like a Florida native says before turning to grab the cigarette from his partner's hand. He runs a hand through his jet black hair that reminded Erik of how greasers used to wear it back in the 50s. Blowing smoke towards the sky, he chokes up a bit.

“Are these M-Marlboro golds?” He says between coughs and slight wheezes.

“Yep, the only kind I smoke...looks like you can’t handle it though,” The beefy guard laughs tumultuously.

“I’m more of a codeine guy,” The greaser says before handing the cigarette back to the other guard, “I prefer my prescription drugs.”

“That shit will have you on the floor, man.”

Erik checked the time on his G-Shock Casio Camouflage watch. He didn’t bring a lot of tech with him since this job is supposed to be silent, quick, and precise. He couldn’t leave any traces of himself behind. For Erik, these types of jobs were always the hardest for him, that’s why he took another week to survey the area with his Dragon X12 U11 Drone late at night before accepting the Nightcall mission. The two guards kept talking nonsense, wasting a breath with every word when Erik Killmonger could be in the luxury beach home. He only had thirty minutes left. Since taking out both of them will bring too much attention, he decided to take them down one by one.

“Hey...what was that?” The greaser says mid laugh. He shared a look with his partner before they both went stony-faced. He pulls out his GLOCK 19, checking the magazine for rounds before turning towards the garage, “I’ll be back, you know we aren’t really supposed to leave this post. If Alma asks, tell her I’m checking for a noise.”

“Gotcha, just hurry back, you know that bitch will have something to say,” the beefy guard reminds him.

With his gun pointed straight ahead with a two-handed grip and unwavering eyes, the greaser walks slowly past the cherry-red sports car, Erik Killmonger’s body no longer there. Making a left turn, heading towards the pool room, the greaser aims his gun left, right, behind, and in front of him. It was dark and anyone could be hiding behind the many shelves filled with storage bins and other miscellaneous items. Erik watched the greaser walk far enough into the pool room before stepping out from behind a cluttered storage cabinet.

Erik Killmonger got really close behind the greaser without being detected, grabbing him around his throat by putting him in a choke hold, the crease of his arm between his bulging bicep, tricep, and flexor, squeezing with ease before he went limp in his arms. He dropped him, getting down on his knees to remove his suit and get dressed. Once he was fully clothed and looking like the other armed guards, Erik Killmonger places the GLOCK 19 in the suit jacket pocket before taking a calm yet treacherous stroll out to the other guard.

_____________________

London’s eyelids fluttered open with a hassle around 3:18 AM, just five hours before she had to be to work. London is a Cyber Security Analyst for CSOC, a five-star rated computer security company in New York City, New York. The high and wide windows within the bedroom of her Penthouse gave her a nighttime view of the Midtown Manhattan skyline and at its feet is the whole geometry of Central Park. The high end silk bedding duvet cover set in black has perfect temperature-regulating properties that would usually help her sleep but with the absence of her man there was little to no chance for her to drift off again. London scoots over towards the edge of the left side of the upholstered platform bed in black to effectively turn on the side lamp. After rubbing her tired eyes, London grabs her phone to see if she had any missed calls or texts from him. Sure enough, the busy man himself sent her a text almost two hours ago.

Erik: I just boarded my private jet, I’ll see you when you wake up baby girl. I’ll be right next to you.

London and Erik have been exclusive for a little over a year. They met because Erik was a longtime client of CSOC and London would personally work for him whenever he needed it. She picked up on his flirtatious cues and the way his eyes blazed every time he looked at her. It was her round, sparkling topaz eyes with sweeping lashes; glowing honey skin; high cheekbones every time she smiled; glossy full lips; bouncy blunt cut copper hair; and trim frame with a plump backside. London didn’t expect anything to happen between them since Erik could be a bit emotionally closed off but he had a deep, and in the beginning, unexpressed admiration for London. He very rarely showed a liking towards anyone around him but for some reason, London changed that. Beneath his bad boy persona is a charming, mysterious, and intellectual man. London fell in love with him before she found out what he did for a living. Erik is an Assassin. Killing people as an occupation of course terror struck her in the beginning but she couldn’t leave him alone no matter how much her conscience tried to sway her.

The beginning of their relationship...let’s just say it was nothing short of wild. Erik used to take London on big trips to places like Dubai, Japan, Colombia, and Saudi Arabia whenever he had work. That changed when Erik almost had a near death experience when trying to escape from a mission. He ended up hospitalized in a secret facility for trained killers like himself somewhere in Arizona. London made up for his lack of being there by working more hours which led her to a position as a Lead Cyber Security Analyst. Her pockets swelled even though she didn’t necessarily need the money since Erik could afford to take care of both of them. London grew tired from working long and hard hours and whenever she would come home to find Erik there she wouldn’t feel up to doing anything sexually. He was always on the move and she was always at work back in NYC. A strain between them both began to form.

Erik didn’t fuss much about it, knowing how demanding his job is but whenever London felt a certain way about their situation he would let her vent to him, rubbing his baby girl’s back, kissing her gently, whispering reassurance to her; that things are going to get better; that she should leave her job and stay home. As easy as all of that sounded, London couldn’t bring herself to leave all that she worked so hard for behind her. To top it all off, London is a strong, independent woman who has done almost everything herself before Erik walked into her life. Yeah, he’s her daddy, but sitting at home waiting on his FaceTime call, his text, or to even simply hear his voice wasn’t enough. Also, she had to keep in mind that the future isn’t promised for the both of them. If things didn’t work out, London would be on her own again. The lack of sexual attention was indeed driving London crazy. Taking baths alone turned into London using her waterproof rabbit vibe or the faucet to make her cum. Other times she would mount her suction cup dildo that is an exact mold of Erik’s dick on the edge of the tub to ride. If she couldn’t have daddy’s long, thick, veiny black dick, then the toy would just have to make up for that when he’s not around.

London snatched the silk duvet from her body before walking to the master bathroom. With the lights on, London turned to stare at her reflection through the backlit vanity mirror. London gently touched one of the taps twice, the warm water flowing out and into the single copper basin of the bathroom sink. Cupping her hands, the white iced out diamond Cuban link 10k yellow gold bracelet on her right wrist twinkling beneath the lights, London watches with drowsy eyes as the water fills in her hands. A few times, London rinses her face with the warm water to calm herself down so she can go back to sleep peacefully without tossing and turning. Lifting her face from the sink basin, eyes closed because of the water dripping from her face, London blindly grabs a folded black cotton facial towel with gold trimming. She dabs her face, taking in the clean and soft fresh linen smell.

“Why are you up so late?”

London blanched, when Erik startled her with his large hands grabbing at her waist from the back. To this day, London still wasn’t used to Erik’s stealth. His feet are like feathers hitting the floor. London is wearing a black Sheer Marabou Romper that has a cinched waist, fluffy feathery trim, and thin straps. One thing Erik loves to see her in any chance he got was lingerie or nothing at all. Looking up into the vanity, London took in Erik’s appearance. He’s wearing his usual all black from head to toe; black cable knit long sleeve top that clung to his hulking frame and black drop crotch destroyed jeans. The layered diamond tennis chains around his neck matched the bracelet on London’s wrist and the Rolex on his left wrist with its diamond bezel didn’t go unnoticed either.

“I couldn’t sleep, it’s been that way for the past few weeks,” London rubs his strong hands with thick fingers around her waist, “How was this job?”

“Unnecessary, but I have another two million in my bank account so I can’t complain,” Erik’s thick lips circled London’s exposed neck, “You can’t sleep because of me, huh?”

“I’m used to you being next to me, yes, but I know you’re so busy,” London turns to face Erik. His hair from the dim lights of the bathroom looked almost raven, dreads messily resting against his forehead. London’s hands reach out to stroke his tapered waistline. She could feel all of the tiny raised scars beneath her manicured nails the more she lightly scratched him.

“I’ve been getting calls for jobs left and right. Nothing else matters when I’m with you...I miss my baby,” Erik’s hand makes its way to London’s copper hair, slicking back the pressed out strands from her face before placing some behind her ears, “Haven’t been giving you the attention you need, and then you’re wearing my favorite too, probably waiting for me to come home and properly take it off of you.”

“Properly taking my clothes off for you is ripping them to pieces,” London giggles before lifting to her tiptoes to kiss Erik’s thick, moist lips, “Why don’t you take a shower so we can lay in bed, I want you to wrap your arms around me,” London rubs Erik’s biceps.

“Aight, ma, let me take a quick shower and I’ll meet you in bed,” Erik traced the pout of London’s bottom lip before giving her another kiss with a little bit of tongue.

London walked back to the bedroom, pulling the silk duvet back and climbing back into bed. She propped herself up on her side to watch Erik undress. The standing shower system they have was London’s favorite. It has a square shower head with LED, remote-controlled LED, a detachable hand shower if you wanted to use it, and a thermostatic touch panel mixer with a digital display. The Rainfall mode made London experience the pleasure of a warm summer rain in her own bathroom. Her body was so tired but she couldn’t stop staring at him as he stripped out of each piece of clothing. Erik’s sinewy physique is so defined and well-built, so much so that you can even tell through his clothing. The raised marks on his torso, arms, and back caused her pierced nipples to grow taut as if she could feel his body rubbing against hers.

Stepping into the shower, Erik puts it on Rainfall mode before standing directly under the square shower head. As the water sprouted from the shower head it trickled over Erik’s body making lazy patterns. He grabs for his favorite peppermint and eucalyptus body wash with a soap sponge to clean himself. He must have known that London was watching him because his ridiculously big dick was swaying back and forth with each movement of his body. London hasn’t had that big black dick in her for at least a few weeks now. When she first saw that fat dick in person she was sure she wouldn’t be able to take it. All that dick you’ll end up with no walls, tangled intestines, and half a stomach. She paid close attention to the way Erik grabbed his dick at the base, bringing it up against his lower abdomen to wash his balls. That heavy nut sack on him had her drooling. It had to have been almost 5 AM now. She was going to be extremely tired at work.

________________

London arrived to work thirty minutes late with her daily homemade green smoothie in hand. She’s wearing a charcoal grey pencil skirt with a silk black top and black So Kate pumps on her feet. Her copper hair is swept to the side and bouncing with each step she took. When London woke up Erik wasn’t on his side of the bed. After freshening up and getting dressed, London went looking for him and found him in his weapons room unloading a few rounds to test out the new artillery. She didn’t want to disturb him too much so she gave him a quick kiss before leaving him alone until she made it back home. London walks past the rounded glass top receptionist desk before pushing open the commercial double glass doors to her work area.

Having her own office means peace and quiet now. London gave some of her coworkers tight lipped smiles before entering her work space, allowing the frosted glass door to close behind her. 888 Seventh Avenue provided magnificent views of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline. London takes a seat at her modern black wood executive desk with a Mac desktop computer and other office supplies. She has two meetings to attend and one will be starting within the next hour. London checks her work email for any important information from clients while sipping her green smoothie. Time trickled by slowly and London hadn’t noticed that Erik had called her a few times. After receiving a reminder about the meeting via company email, London checks her phone. Erik sent her a voice message which was rather unlike him. London listens despite her confusion.

“Hey what’s up, baby, how are you doing? I didn’t get a chance to really talk to you this morning since the new artillery came in, but...I’m sitting here just thinking about you and baby... I just want to see your face. Can you send me a picture or a video of yourself? I miss that pretty face….” he paused for a second, “I’m not gonna lie, ma...I’m feeling some type of way because I’m sitting here just thinking about you...thinking about tasting you...thinking about the other night when you watched me take a shower before you fell asleep…” Erik exhaled, “I miss that wet pussy, baby...I know that shit was wet last night...like goddamn...I know you’re panties had to be soaked, shit.”

London was seated on the edge of her seat while her free hand gripped the handle of her seat. She couldn’t believe he was saying this to her in her voicemail. She instantly needed her man.

“I’m saying...I’m not complaining at all because I love that wet ass pussy on my face and in my fucking mouth...grinding that pussy across my lips and my beard...Still tasting your pussy juices on my mustache...I wanna suck on that clit...that shit make you so goddamn wet, girl...spread them fat pussy lips and slowly guide my tongue up and down...up and down...fuck,” Erik hisses, “I miss that pussy gripping my fingers...you like that shit don’t you? Daddy’s fingers in your tight little pussy? Goddamn...fuck that I want you to take a picture of how wet your pussy is right now...yeah, I know that’s a little naughty but I know you’re my nasty little girl so you’ll do that shit anyway, right? I’ll spank that ass if you don’t send me a fucking pic, girl...I’ll spank that ass just how I do when I’m busting that pussy open from the back…”

London closed her eyes, praying to god that she would go through the rest of her day after this voicemail. She’s definitely wet alright; fucking soaked. If London pulled her panties to the side right now it would probably reveal a sticky, slimy mess. He had to be beating that fat ass dick right now.

“Man...now you got me wanting to fuck the shit out of you, London...put my hands on your hips and start off nice and slow in that pussy...shit, we both know that pussy good...puss will have me busting a fat nut so fast...hell nah, girl…” Erik’s voice lowered over the phone to a whisper that ran down London’s spine and straight to her clit, “I just want you to know how good that pussy tastes and feels baby...pussy so fucking good...I love when you say don’t stop daddy, you know daddy ain’t stopping for nothing. Daddy got something long and thick for your ass…and I want that fat pussy in my mouth…”

The voicemail had ended two minutes ago but London was so frozen with shock that she couldn’t move enough to close her mouth. She finally removed the phone from her ear before checking to see that no one was watching. They couldn’t anyway because of the frosted glass doors but London wanted to be absolutely certain. Scooting back in her black Sterling Leather Executive Chair, London gathers the bottom of her skirt, bringing it up and around her waist. London brings her left hand down between her legs to pull the crotch of her panties to the side. She scoots to the edge of the chair so her pussy is sitting nice a plump for a perfect picture. Grabbing her cell phone, London activates her camera from her lock screen, turning it to selfie mode before aiming it as best as she could to achieve a good angle so he can see everything. London takes a few pictures, one with her lips sitting nice and fat and the other with her lips spread so that he can see how hard and poked out her clit is and how much of her creamy wetness spilled from her pussy.

“There you go daddy,” London says before sending it off to Erik. She wasn’t happy at all that she had to leave for her meeting. London brings all the necessary material for the meeting before exiting her office for the conference room. When she entered the conference room, everyone was already in their usual spots so London quickly found hers near the front right across from the manager of CSOC, Linda Yeager.

“Goodmorning, London, do you have the contingency plans packet for the meeting today?”

London’s eyes swept over Linda’s appearance. Linda has her long strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail and a navy blue women’s suit on with a white blouse underneath. Her veneer smile is wide and similar to that of a horse and her thin lips are painted red to bring out the heavy makeup look she went for today.

“Yes,” London opens her portfolio, handing Linda the packet that she created yesterday, “I made sure that everyone received a new one before today.”

“Excellent,” Linda stands from her seat before making her way to a podium situated in front of the conference room, “Okay...Good Morning everyone! I know today is going to be yet another stress-filled one but we all know this is a necessity,” Linda pulls out a laser pointer, aiming it at the presentation behind her, “Today we will be discussing contingency plans that the company will implement in case of a successful attack. Since cyber attackers are constantly using new tools and strategies, cyber security analysts, such as yourself, need to stay informed about the weapons out there to mount a strong defense.”

Linda went on and on for about an hour before everyone was dismissed to assist with clients to keep intruders, attackers or hackers out of networks in order to protect digital files and information systems against unauthorized access. London made it back to her office with a bottle of Fiji water, taking her seat again. Before she started any type of work, London grabs her phone from her desk drawer because she knew Erik had a response for what she sent him. Sure enough, he left her yet another voicemail. London prepared herself for a lustful ear full.

“Baby...fuck...I just wanna eat that pussy up...I might have to come see you for lunch today...Goddamn...mmmhhh...you know eating pussy is my shit, right? Ima tear that creamy pussy up, girl...make love to that pussy with my fucking tongue...put that whole pussy in my mouth...mmmh…damn, I wish I could eat that...Look at the lips on this pretty motherfucker.. gawd dayum! I’d slurp the hell out of them lips...call me back...call me the fuck back, London.”

London calls Erik back with no hesitation. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat almost with the amount of anticipation running through her veins.

“London...can daddy come eat that suckable pussy for lunch?” That was his greeting as soon as he picked up.

“In my car? baby, you know it’s an open lot...people will see,” London says with a sultry voice.

“London... I’m tryna eat that pussy… you gon’ make me wait?”

“I can try to get home sooner...that way, you can eat my pussy all day if you want to.” London’s tongue dragged across her upper lip, “it’s been a while, I know you miss this pretty pussy.”

“Yeah?” Erik says, “All day baby?”

“Uh-huh, all day...any way you like…”

“That’s a mouth full of pussy ima need a lot of time to eat that shit up,” Erik chuckles, “I guess that will be dinner then, swallow all that pussy juice and slurp up that clit, yeah?”

London ran her pink and white ombré acrylics through her copper hair. She could feel her clit poking against the crotch of her panties and her pierced nipples stiffen behind her silk top. She wanted Erik to suck on her nipples so damn bad that she thrust her chest forward like his wet mouth was wide open and waiting. London is a B cup so she could easily go without a bra. She wished she would have now because her nipples are rubbing against the silk of her shirt. They are so damn hard.

“Ima be face first in that ass as soon as you walk through the door, London.”

“I know, baby,” London spoke softly while using a single finger to circle her taut left pierced nipple.

“Yes, sit that fat pussy on my face.”

“Daddy, I gotta go,” London’s voice didn’t match her words.

“Aight...just Gon’ leave me drooling all over myself until you get home, huh?”

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

London knew Erik had to be fiending since they haven’t had sex in over two weeks. He would have another job lined up soon and from his words and the harsh, uneven sound of his voice, that told London everything she needed to know. Erik needed her. Part of it made London feel guilty because there were times when he would simply watch her masturbate in the tub. He would sit on the toilet after coming home from a job, his body just as tired. London would be in the jacuzzi whirlpool tub, her waterproof rabbit vibe going to town on her clit beneath the water. She didn’t mind him watching her, he didn’t even complain about her pleasuring herself instead of letting him do it. No, Erik would simply sit there with this sexy, devilish grin on his face, his eyes all low and seductive while they peered through the soapy water to take a look at how she worked that vibrator over her clit.

That’s it baby..make that pussy cum

Mhm, good girl...you making that fat kitty cum, baby?

Then, there were the times he walked in on her riding her dildo in the shower with it mounted to the wall. These times she hadn’t expected him to be home so soon. His sudden appearance would make her feel timid to finish but Erik would insist that she continue because he really wanted to watch her. He would stand outside of the shower, his eyes focused on the way the dildo that’s an exact mold of his dick would slide in and out of her creamy pussy. The look on her face is so beautiful while she fucked herself. She just looks so helpless and useless with each stroke. Water mixed with her creamy mess would drizzle down her inner thighs with each stroke and it made his dick chub up real fast but he didn’t intervene. He knew he wasn’t around often to take care of his baby girl, she deserved to play in her pussy.

You’re opening that pussy up beautifully, baby

Definitely A Greedy Pussy Indeed. I Love It.

His words made her cum in an instant.

________________________

[ Greetings Killmonger…..]

Erik heard the alert from his personal work computer all the way from the bathroom. He walked into his master bedroom with water still trickling from his body and a towel wrapped around his hips. His office was just in the other room where his laptop was located. He walked up to the laptop, tapped a series of keys and his Oracle message popped up in green letters with a black background that reminded him of the Matrix.

“Oracle,” Erik spoke lazily before taking a seat at his desk, “another mission?”

[Yes...do you accept the mission? ]

“...yes,” He says while stroking his goatee, “Lay out the details.”

[ Russia’s ambassador to Turkey named Andrey G. Karlov is supposed to be attending an art exhibit two weeks from now on Monday in Ankara, the capital of Turkey. Your assignment is to get to him and kill him before he reaches the art exhibit. We can’t have any witnesses. This job will require special gear and technology. We will provide a black Ducati sports bike and you have a suite booked at the JW Marriott Hotel Ankara. If the mission is successful, 3.5 million will be wired to your offshore bank account in Belize. ]

“Sounds legit...send me all the information I need on Karlov along with my hotel and I’ll be ready.”

[ Excellent. Happy killing Mr. Killmonger….]

His laptop screen blacked out which meant that whatever information that was previously mentioned would be deleted without a trace. Erik has two weeks to prepare for his next job. He trained all day to keep up with his skills. It’s never a good look to take too much relaxation time. Standing from his desk chair, Erik makes his way into his master bedroom to rub his body down with cocoa butter body oil and slip on a pair of lounge pants. The body oil softened and conditioned his body perfectly. He slipped on a pair of black joggers and walked to the bathroom to finish his facial routine. Erik believes in taking care of himself, in a balanced diet, and in a rigorous exercise routine. Erik applies an herb mint facial masque which he leaves on for ten minutes while he prepares the rest of his facial routine. After rinsing the mask, Erik applies a moisturizer, some under-eye balm to help alleviate the dark circles forming, then finally, he sets it with a protective lotion.

Back within his bedroom, staring out at Midtown through one of his wide, ceiling to floor windows, Erik realizes that London couldn’t make it home earlier like she promised. After their call ended, Erik decided to train so he could clear his head. He did his usual routine that involves jackknife crunches, crucifix push-ups, single leg burpees, jumping lunges, and other workouts. Then, Erik trained a little in combat; your fighting skills can always be improved. To end it, Erik let off a few rounds from his new Smith & Wesson pistol with a crimson trace sight. Erik walks down the modern stairs that ended within a corridor. He made his way towards the kitchen, turning on the lights and opening the fridge. Grabbing a box of leftover egg foo young, he places it within the microwave for 2 minutes. The front entrance to the penthouse opened and from the surveillance cameras in the kitchen Erik can see London removing her pumps before walking barefoot further into the penthouse.

“Hey, baby,” her silvery voice soothed his ears, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it home earlier, today was yet another busy day...what are you heating in the microwave?”

“It’s okay, I figured you were tied up,” Erik opens the microwave, grabbing the hot takeout container filled with shrimp egg foo young smothered in extra gravy, “Some Chinese I never ate yesterday, you wanna share?”

“Yes,” London places her black Louis Vuitton tote bag on the galaxy storm granite countertop of their kitchen island before taking a seat on one of the stools. She finger combed her blunt cut bouncy copper hair away from her face while Erik grabbed two forks for them and after that two water bottles. He sat across from her before passing her a fork. London hissed from how hot the food was against her tongue before blowing it rapidly.

“Mmm...I haven’t had egg foo young in so long,” she licked her fork before going for more.

“How was work?” Erik asks between chewing his food.

“It was alright, I’m exhausted,” London rubs her neck with her free hand, “How was your day?”

“Productive, did some training most of the time. I got an alert from my Oracle for a new job.”

“...oh, yeah?” London swallows her food, hoping that her eyes didn’t read disappointment, “I figured it would be happening soon. When is it?”

“Within the next two weeks. It’s a big job so I gotta do some research over the next few days…” Erik reaches across the counter to rub London’s chin, “Hey...it’s two weeks from now. You got me for two weeks before I go away.”

London played with a piece of egg with her fork, “I know...I just get really lonely when you’re not with me, daddy.”

“You sure about that? Still using the dildo I bought you?” Erik gave London a lopsided grin.

“I am...but there’s nothing like daddy’s dick,” London laughs, before yawning, “I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“If you weren’t watching me take a shower and rub down with my body oil you would have,” Erik teased.

“It’s your damn fault, you’re so sexy,” London strokes a single vein on Erik’s left hand with her pink and white ombré acrylic nail.

“You know what I want, right?” Erik drags his tongue across the corner of the inside of his mouth to catch some food, causing a single dimple to form in his other cheek.

“Yes, let me shower first and I’m all yours,” London takes one final piece of egg foo young before grabbing her tote bag, walking around the kitchen counter to kiss Erik’s lips before walking away. Erik finished off the food before trashing it. He drank his water before tossing the bottle in recycling. Upstairs now, London is already out of the shower, her naked body seen walking into her walk-in closet to find something to sleep in. Erik brushes his teeth before joining her in the walk-in closet. London is wearing a sheer babydoll with berry-red trimming.

“I got you something,” Erik says while walking up behind her. He picked it up in Miami for her. Reaching inside one of London’s many drawers, he pulls out a Cartier box. Erik presses his crotch against London’s curvy backside while leaning over her shoulder. London watches him open the box to reveal a stunning 18k white gold necklace with 264 brilliant cut diamonds. London’s topaz eyes locked with Erik’s onyx ones. They twinkled and it made him smile. He grabs the necklace, opening the clasp before placing it around her neck. London touches it with her delicate fingers. Erik’s thick lips lightly kiss the baby-soft skin of her cheek.

“You look good in diamonds, girl,” He whispers to her before kissing along her neck, “icy just like your daddy.”

“Thank you, daddy,” London fought for oxygen when Erik’s hands began to lift the bottom of her baby doll up.

“Come sit on daddy’s face,” His nose was in her hair smelling the strands. Erik strolled back to the bedroom, laying back on the bed. London follows him, crawling onto the bed between his wide legs before climbing onto his lap to straddle him reverse cowgirl. Erik lifts the bottom of the baby doll completely up and around her waist to reveal her dangling fat pussy from behind. He takes his thumb to rub her protruding clit and labia that sat stunningly between her fat pussy lips. Lifting his thumb away, a slimy string of her fluids connected with it. Erik sucks it off before grabbing London by her thighs, roughly scooting her back towards him so that her pussy hovered over his lips.

“Mmm, I miss this fat pussy,” Erik brings his lips to her pussy. He starts off by placing soft, lingering kisses that caused her to let out little gasps. Erik continues kissing her outer lips until her hips start oscillating back and forth.

“Calm down, girl, daddy got you,” Erik spreads her pussy lips to reveal her cotton candy pink center, “had me wishing I could eat this pussy all day and I finally got it in my face,” Erik’s tongue poked out and he delivered stiff licks around her protruding clit. Erik could see her pussy contract with each lick and a single stream of slippery lubrication drip down to her labia. Erik dragged his thick bottom lip up to catch the fluid before sucking her labia into his mouth. His eyes closed one at a time after he got a taste of what he hadn’t tasted in two weeks. That sweet puss.

“Yes, daddy,” London’s toes curled, “Fuck, baybeee.”

Her drippy pussy was evidence that it missed his tongue among other things.

“Sweet, tasty, pussy...sit on my face, London...THAT'S it…yeah, baby,” he groans, “Yummy pussy,” He sounded out longingly with a deep, alluring voice.

Erik loved spreading London’s lips with his tongue and tasting the warm sweet juices from her pussy. He loves when she puts her pussy on his face and rides his tongue. The loud smacking sounds from his slurping and licking mixed with London’s quickening breaths were sounds unheard of in two weeks. The way she was dripping in his mouth she was ready for his big black dick but all Erik wanted to do was eat. Both holes honestly. Erik wets a finger with his spit before sticking it in London’s tight, virgin booty hole. He was gonna get in that tight ass one day but for now he simply pushed his thick finger inside. It was so tight that it sucked his finger in.

“Oooh, shit,” Erik says while watching his finger stroke London’s booty hole, “That ass is tighter than a motherfucker...you gon’ let me get in that ass?”

“I don’t know, daddy...fuck,” London looks back at Erik while he finger fucked her booty hole, “Damn, daddy, oh, my God…”

“I said, you gon’ let me get in that ass with this fat fucking dick?”

“Daddy it’s too big-

“If you’re used to this you’ll be used to my dick in no time, baby...taking that shit beautifully,” He wraps his lips around her clit and starts sucking.

“Oh my God, daddy, that’s my spot,” London started speaking in tongues, “Yes, baby, suck on my pussy…”

Erik brings a finger from his other hand to slip inside of London’s pussy. The soft, fleshy ridges of her walls massaged his finger. He found her G spot and started massaging it with the pad of his finger. Erik started loudly sucking on London’s pussy and licking it sloppy with a lot of spit in between. Each time he licked London could feel his tongue print still lingering.

“I’m gonna cum,” London says when she could feel her entire body spasm, “Daddy I’m cumming.”

Erik continued sucking her clit, fingering her creamy pussy, and fingering her tight ass. He was working the hell out of her pussy that London almost collapsed.

“You’re making my pussy cum,” Her voice grew louder, “Oh my God!!!!!” London started throwing her ass back, fucking Erik’s fingers before she started leaking all over his face. Her milky white orgasm covered his facial hair and lips.

“Yes, daddy,” London became overstimulated and lifted her body from Erik’s. She fell back on the bed beside him, stroking her hair from her sweaty face.

“I’m not finished...you said I could have it all I want, right?” Erik spreads London’s thighs before leaning over her body with a hankering desire. His tongue wiggles all over her pussy with exhilarating speed that strokes her clit in the right spot. London’s hips began to lift off of the bed but Erik held her in place. After licking it a few more times he went right back to slurping her up but this time he did it with fervor. Each suck came with a deep grunt. He was enjoying the hell out of her pussy on his mouth. He had London screaming his name. Erik was telling her through every suck and lick that this was his pussy and that she better cum in his fucking mouth.

“Unnffttt!!!!!” London moaned out repeatedly. She yanked Erik’s tapered dreads, “eat this fucking pussy,” London rolled her hips, driving her pussy in Erik’s mouth, “yesssss ima cum in your mouth so fucking hard keep doing that.”

Erik started sucking on London’s clit while swiveling his head back and forth. He was loving that pussy.

“Suck on my pussy...suck on my pussy...sucking on my pussy…” London’s mouth unhinges, “Oh, yes, right there, ooooohh, DON'T stop...Yep...right there, daddy, uh-huh...uh-huh...uh-huh...FUCK YES...you’re making your pussy cum...FUCK!”

London fisted Erik’s hair as she climaxed in his mouth.

___________________

The next day, London awoke to the sound of her alarm at 7:00 AM. She turned it off, sitting up in bed. Blinking her tired eyes, London rubbed her inner thighs together, feeling her pussy juices gathering in a puddle. She’s still wet from the repeated head she received from Erik last night. He ate her pussy three times before she fell asleep next to him then he woke her up at 2:00 AM with her clit in his mouth again. Spreading her thighs, London could see that her clit is still stiff and her inner folds are still engorged with arousal. The bed shifted behind her and London turned to find Erik stretching his built arms above his head. He blinked at her with low eyes before giving her a lazy smile.

“Good morning, baby,” Erik spoke before yawning, “You’re leaving me again, Princess?”

“Duty calls,” London stood from the bed giving Erik a tantalizing view of her slim-thick frame. She leaned over the bed to kiss Erik nice and gentle, “I’ll miss you.”

“Stay home,” Erik looked up at her through his long lashes, “We got some making up to do, girl...I ain’t have that puss in two weeks...we got some making up to do.”

“I know, I know,” London was pulled down into the bed with Erik, “Daddy-

“Hush, Princess,” Erik’s hand made its way between her thighs, “That fat puss is still wet.”

“Umph,” London shielded her face in Erik’s neck.

“Nah, look at what I’m doing...London,” Erik yanked her hair, forcing her to focus on him, “LOOK.”

Her eyes widened at his barbaric tone. The rough edge made her shiver. London’s eyes watched as Erik used two fingers to rub her clit side to side.

“Mhm, I got that puss,” He bites her jaw, causing her to squeal, “Damn, that clit stiff...you going to work and leaving daddy home to take care of this fat ass dick by himself? Hmm?”

“Erik,” She could feel herself leaking all over his hand, “Daddy stop...I gotta go to work...fuck,” Erik pushed three fingers inside of her, “Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.”

“Princess, I plan on hitting this pussy from every angle imaginable,” Erik whispered to her before giving her sloppy kisses on her neck, “cum on my fingers, girl, you know you want to.”

“Umph, Yes-

“I see you girl…FUCK,” Erik aggressively bites his bottom lip while he watched London cream his fingers, “Thats a good pussy, baby...such a good girl,” Erik’s fingers slip out to smack her pussy. London jumps from his lap while squeezing her thighs tight.

“I’m gonna go take a sh-shower,” London lets out an unsteady breath while watching Erik suck her juices from his fingers.

“Go ahead, Princess, I’ll see you in there.”

London grabs her silk bonnet and shower cap before walking into the master bathroom. With her out of the room now, Erik grabs his cell to call London’s job. On the third ring, the receptionist picks up.

“Thanks for calling, CSOC, this is Taylor Bianchi, how can I direct you?”

“Hi, can I speak to Linda Yeager, please? This is Erik Stevens, a long time client of CSOC.” His eyes fall on London lathering up her soap sponge with her body wash.

“Okay, I’ll transfer your call.”

The line clicks over and there is a brief pause before Erik could hear the phone being picked up and Linda clearing her throat.

“Erik! How are you? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything is fine...I’m calling about London...listen, I’m requesting that she has a few days off. She’s exhausted and London needs to rest her mind and her body. With her being Lead Analyst now it’s taken a heavy load on her.”

“I understand,” Linda sighs, “I wish she would have told me she needs time off, it’s never a problem. Of course, London can take however long she needs.”

“Thank you, Linda, I’ll let her know her vacation starts today.” Erik hangs up his cell before tossing the silk duvet back. He takes off his black joggers before walking naked to the bathroom. London has just finished washing herself a second time and now she is rinsing off. Erik opens the glass shower door, stepping inside the steamy shower, “Finished without me?”

“Sorry, baby, I have to go to work, I’m already gonna be late.”

“Nah,” Erik closes the shower door, “I called your job, you won’t be going to work for the rest of the week.”

“Huh?” London says with a perplexed expression.

“I requested for you to be off. Linda said it was okay.”

“Babe…” London blushes, “You did that for me?”

“You know I got you, Princess. We can use all this time to fuck as much as we want...and I’m gonna fuck you good,” Erik approaches her with a gait that had her week in the knees.

“Okay...it’s been a minute…” London was backed into a corner, “All I’ve known is my vibe and dildo…”

“Aww, I know,” Erik takes his thumbs to twirl her pierced nipples, “That’s why I gotta remind you how daddy does it...dig that pussy out.”

Erik snatches London’s bonnet and shower cap from her head before picking her up, walking with her until their bodies are beneath the squared shower head. Erik’s long dick began to thicken up beneath her pussy. He stuck his tongue down her throat, kissing her roughly while gripping her ass. London braced herself by wrapping her arms around Erik’s shoulders. From her lips, Erik’s kisses were on her neck now right along with his teeth leaving marks. He was so hungry for her, not even a grizzly bear could stop him from getting all of London.

“You want daddy to fuck you in this shower?” Erik sucked on her bottom lip.

“Please, daddy, can you fuck me in the shower?”

“You know how to ask daddy for what you want...good girl,” Erik used a little force to push London’s back against the shower wall. She sucked in a sharp breath, before raising a single brow at him. He was being rough with her.

“Being rough with me, daddy?” She questioned sweetly because she knew that drove him crazy, “It’s okay…I know you need this pussy.”

“You’re fucking right,” Erik growled before his mouth made its way to her erect pierced nipples, “This pussy hasn’t stained my dick in two fucking weeks...that’s way too long for me, girl...you know daddy gotta have this pussy any fucking chance I get,” With one hand, Erik places it around London’s neck, “those eyes are so sexy, baby...you better look at me just like that when I fuck this pussy,” Erik grinds his dick up against London’s pussy, “and when I cum on that pretty face.”

“Anything, daddy, just fuck me,” London tried grabbing his dick but Erik’s hand around her neck grew tighter.

“Is that how you ask for this fucking dick? Try again,” Erik spoke through clenched teeth.

“Can daddy fuck my little pussy, please?” London asked with a pout of her lips.

Erik smiles devilishly, “Yeah...daddy can fuck that little Princess pussy.”

With short, heated gasps, London watched Erik grab hold of his dick with the hand that was around her neck, rubbing it back and forth over her clit. It didn’t matter how much water covered their bodies from head to toe, London’s pussy is still drenched with her slickness. Erik strokes his dick against London’s entrance before pushing in just the tip, purposely stopping so he could watch the helpless expression on her face.

“Yeah,” he spoke smugly, “And that’s just the tip, baby,” Erik pushes in some more with just his hips, “Damn...clenching up already? You know how this dick can be,” Erik continues without stopping this time before licking away a single tear from her face, “you know daddy gets in there, ma...this shit ain’t new.”

“Damn,” London hisses, “You got my pussy opened up, daddy.”

“And you got my dick tickling your cervix,” Erik pulls all the way to his wide tip before pushing back inside deeply, “Like how I pull it all the way out? Huh?”

London could only nod her head.

“I asked you a fucking question, Princess,” Erik does it again. His thick, long, curved dick pushed back inside. London’s pussy is so warm and wet that it made his ass cheeks clench.

“What the fuck did I say?” He barked out.

“If I like the way you pull it all the way out,” London’s lower lip trembled between moans.

“Pull what out?” He asked her with narrow eyes.

“This big ass dick,” London’s head extended back, “This shit is hitting the bottom of my pussy.”

“Mhm,” Erik angles London’s hips with both of his strong hands, “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” He picks up speed, London’s hips loudly smacking against his, “This what you kept from me?”

“Yes!!” London’s eyes never left his, “God...you’re stretching me.”

Their tongues flicked wildly before Erik pressed his forehead against hers. He was still watching her, his hands moving her hips in a circle while he stroked her pussy long dick style.

“Unfff, if you keep doing that- daddy, shit,” London pouts, “Daddy it’s deep.”

Erik wasn’t listening, he was too busy moving her hips in a multitude of angels just so his dick could reach every single part of her pussy from her walls, to her cervix, to her G spot, and then her A spot. Warm, liquid leaked from her pussy and it made Erik smile handsomely at her.

“I got this fat pussy squirting,” Erik starts banging London’s pussy out harder, “Ima make you do that shit again...UH-HUH…nut on this fucking dick.”

With a silent scream and her feet nudging against Erik’s back from his forceful thrusts, London gave him exactly what he wanted. Erik’s dick left her pussy and he put her down. London has to brace the wall because her knees are wobbling.

“Get down on your knees and clean this daddy dick off.”

London was on her knees, grabbing Erik’s balls with one hand while wrapping her plump lips around the tip of his dick with just the power of her jaw muscles.

“You better suck it good too or I’ma tear that throat up,” Erik bites his bottom lip down at London. He runs his fingers through her loose curly strands, “feeding my pretty baby some dick...see? You needed that, right?”

“Mhm,” London hums whole slurping on Erik’s dick. She had to work extra hard since his dick hadn’t been in her mouth for two weeks. She worked her jaws overtime and her head moved in a circular motion.

“You’re such a good girl,” Erik licks his lips before leaning over, spitting on his dick. He watched London lick and suck his saliva into her mouth.

“You sucking this dick, girl, mm,” Erik shakes his head, “You want me to unload down your throat?”

London responded with puppy dog eyes and a harder suck. Erik thrusts his hips forward suddenly, causing London to gag. She removed her mouth from his dick to take a breath but Erik grabs a fist full of her wet hair, making her look at him, “Did I tell you to stop?! You know this dick is long, girl,” Erik slapped his dick against her cheek, “Open your fucking mouth, Princess.”

London opens wide and Erik didn’t waste anytime getting back inside. His head went back while he uses London’s mouth like a pussy and started fucking her throat. London’s nails clawed his thighs.

“Told you I had something for little ass girls like you who keep running from dick...don’t stop eating that dick up, Princess.”

“Mmm...mmmhmm,” London blinked away her growing tears, striving to finish until his cum was down her throat.

“I need it nice and sloppy like this. Make a mess like the good girl you are. You look so sexy when you get nasty,” Erik says between London’s sucking, “Yes baby...mmmh...fuuuckkk...make it nasty, baby, that’s it,” Erik’s face fixed into a mug, “Ughhhhhh fuuuckkkkkk, don’t ever stop sucking baby girl, make daddy bust a nut...ughhhhhhh…yes, empty me...mmmm...here it comes baby... getting the job done just drain your daddy and you never have to worry about anything...FUCK YES,” Erik’s entire body spasmed out of control. He gripped the back of London’s head before erupting deep down her throat. London welcomes her gift graciously with a flickering tongue. It was a lot of cum, definitely overdue.

“Good girl,” Erik says between ragged gasps.

___________________

After their shower, London and Erik had a nice breakfast that Erik prepared. Veggie omelette, turkey sausage, and a side of shrimp with cheesy grits. London did a bit of yoga, something she hadn’t done in a long while. Erik cleaned up before joining London in their personal gym for a morning workout. Erik couldn’t keep his eyes off of London stretching her body. After taking yet another long shower, London and Erik lounged around well into the early afternoon in complete nudity. Erik was supposed to start his research for his new mission but that wasn’t going to happen with the way London’s nude body was calling him. They were sitting in the living room, laid back on their luxury leather sectional sofa, music playing from the installed surround sound system.

London couldn’t keep her eyes off of Erik’s dick sitting heavy between his toned thighs. Unable to control the urge to slurp his thick pipe into her mouth, London leans over Erik’s lap, grabbing his dick in her hand, slapping it against her tongue, and then all in one motion, his dick was back in her mouth. London arched her back, her ass sitting high in the air now for Erik to reach over and slap whenever he felt like it. She massaged his nut sack while swallowing her man’s fat dick. He loved to see her with a mouth full of his meat. All he could do was simply shake his head at her. Before he needed to remind her, London’s topaz eyes connected with his and that’s when his dick swelled to cum inspiring proportions in her throat and unloaded a fat nut that she worked for.

“There you go,” Erik studied the way his balls tightened, “Got my nuts tight, girl, get up here.”

London climbed into Erik’s lap, squatting over him while bracing herself on the back of the couch.

“Nah, fuck that, grab daddy’s dick and put it in that sweet little pussy so I can fuck the shit out of you.”

London reaches between her legs, grabs Erik’s dick, and lines it up with her snug entrance. She gyrated her hips over him before lowering herself onto his third leg.

“Mmmm,” She locked eyes with him, “Big-ass-dick.” She tells him, even though he already knew that.

“Tight-ass-pussy,” Erik’s thick lips practically swallowed London's, the more he devoured her with his kisses. His saliva laden tongue battled for dominance in her mouth the more he kissed. London was like putty in his arms. London didn’t see it coming when Erik’s hips elevated from the couch to fuck her. His balls slapped her on the ass with each heavy, gut-filling stroke. Her thighs shook and her toes were beginning to sweat from the hot leather.

“Oh, shit,” Her lower abdomen clenched, “It’s deep…”

“Move your hands,” Erik ordered when London’s hands came down to press against his thighs to try and slow him up, “Move your fucking hands, London.”

“Daddy, nooooo,” She whimpered.

“Shut that shit up,” He wrenched her hands away from his thighs, “grip my shoulders...that’s it, girl,” Erik went back to fucking the shit out of her wet pussy, “I got this pussy gushing all over me and you want me to stop? You better take this big black dick...all I wanna hear is you moaning and saying how much you love daddy’s big dick, nothing else,” Erik tore his eyes away for a second so he could watch her cream his dick, “I’m beating this pussy up...shut that crying up, London.”

“Yessssss,” London chokes up, “Daddy, pleaseeee-

“Please? Please what?” Erik wrapped his arms around London’s body, holding her in place so he could work her pussy some more, “Please what? Huh?!”

“YES!!” London buried her face in the crook of Erik’s neck. She could feel a warm sensation overpower her body and then she froze. Erik’s dick was covered in her cream all the way down to his balls.

“Just making a mess on me, huh?” Erik sucks on London’s neck, “Daddy likes that shit...come here,” Erik lifts her from his lap. He stood up with his dick dripping cum, turning London over and arching her back.

“Mm-mm, keep that arch,” Erik strokes his messy pipe, “Push them shoulders down...good girl,” Erik slaps London’s clit a few times before he enters her with a long exhale, “Good fucking pussy...pass me my phone.” Erik barked out. London grabs Erik’s phone from her left before passing it to Erik, “You remember how we used to do it?” Erik opens up his camera, aiming it at London’s ass, “Bring that ass up, London, I’m not gonna tell you again.”

London was holding off on purpose because she knew how deep he can get in this position.

“How is daddy supposed to beat this pussy the fuck up if you don’t listen?” Erik pumped London’s pussy full of his fat dick with just his hips while holding the phone steady so he can capture it perfectly, “Wait until you see this shit, ummmmm, baby...widen your legs London,” Erik pushes himself in all the way, causing London to cry out, “It’s okay, Princess, here,” He did it again, “beat this pussy up…look at me.”

London looks back at Erik through her messy hair. She wished she hadn’t. Just one look at him had her squirting on his dick.

“You make that shit look so damn good...I’m spreading that pussy, baby?”

“Uh-huh-

“What else is daddy doing?” Erik smiles.

“Making my pussy feel good,” London smiles back before her face frowned with ecstasy.

“That’s the face I like to see...you got my dick pulsating in this pussy...got this good dick up in you all you can do is cum...I like that...too big, baby?”

She couldn’t respond but HELL YEAH. His dick damn near pushed her stomach out of her mouth in this position.

“Daddy…” London said so low.

“What?!” Erik asked while hammering London’s pussy. He angled the phone so that the length of his defined body could be in view while he stroked her. London’s cheeks clapped loudly and her moans damn near blew out the speakers of his phone, “this is mine and ima remind you any and everywhere,” London gripped his dick with her walls, “yeahhhhh, make daddy bust a nut!!!”

“Fuck me!!” London grabbed the back of the couch, “beat it up, daddy!!”

“Fuck,” Erik had to drop the phone. He was about to cream all in London’s sweet, tight pussy, “Look at this arch, girl, damn...you want me to really get in this puss.”

Erik’s mouth unhinges and his eyelids flutter. He gave London two deep, long, and filling thrusts before cumming deep inside of her. Erik slapped her ass hard a few times before pulling his dick from her pussy.

“Come suck this big dick up,” Erik said between heavy breathing. London was on her knees in a flash, grabbing Erik’s dick up in her hand before licking their mess off. Erik twirled London’s pierced nipple with one hand. He was thickening up again and all he wanted to do was bury himself back inside her tight, creamy pussy some more.

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#killmonger smut #killmonger x oc #Erik Killmonger #killmonger imagine #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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cosplayinamerica · 3 years

Photo

Jyn Erso from Rogue One : vaultfox // photo : @deltastic

Cosplay is not only my creative outlet, it’s sort of morphed into my own personal therapy over the years. I started cosplaying back in 2016 when I bought a few thrifted pieces for a Piper Wright cosplay from Fallout 4. I went to PAX EAST that same year and cosplayed with my husband and some friends when we were told about a “Fallout Cosplay Gathering” and we decided to head up. It was then that my whole outlook on the hobby changed! There was a community? Of people? And they all shared a common interest of this video game they loved so much they wanted to become those characters??? Sign me up!!!

Later that year, I fell in love with Jyn Erso from Rogue One and decided I had to have every costume she wore in my life. While researching, I found a Facebook group called “Stardust Sisters” whose main goal was to help everyone in the group make their own Jyn costume. I was particularly drawn to her Imperial disguise and decided I wanted to work on making that costume to the best of my abilities. In the midst of searching out references and furiously teaching myself how to sew a flat-felled seam, I started to feel a bit ... off.

I finished her costume in early April but soon after I was experiencing debilitating migraines, extreme joint and neck pain, as well as the worst fatigue I’d ever ever felt in my life. I could barely stay awake for the eight hours of work I did each day and soon had to start working from home and napping when I could just to get through the day. I saw several doctors who ran lots of tests until it was finally determined I had Lyme Disease, but a case where I’d had it untreated for over two years or so. No one could tell me for sure, but we think all of my symptoms were triggered by stress.

I had to take months of cosplay work while I went through courses of antibiotics (and believe me I didn’t really think much about it, I was too tired) and at the same time, my father was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. It was an incredibly stressful time and I missed having my creative outlet to cope.

In October of that same year, Felicity Jones was going to NYCC for signings and photo-ops and I just knew no matter how sick I was, I had to get out there to meet her and tell her how much her character meant to me. In early October I boarded a bus to New York and slept the entire eight hours until I was finally at a fellow cosplayers apartment for the weekend ahead.

Meeting her was a dream, I wrote her a note that I passed onto her at her signing and when I met her at the photo op she told me she had actually read it??? And that she was thinking of my father too. It was just ... I don’t cry, but I’m my photo with her I was on the verge of tears. It’s an incredible memory.

I let her know just how important Jyn's character was to me in that note, and it's for two reasons: 1) how she handles her father's death, and 2) her absolute resolve and dedication, choosing to "make things right" after all she had been through, and that they are just regular people, no "force" or special powers involved.

She told me she hopes things get better, and just ... hearing that from her, I don’t know why it gave me the emotions it did, but it meant so much to me. I'm forever thankful I got the chance to come meet her and tell her how much her performance and Jyn mean to me.

It was worth it, even if so many people hate Jyn, think she's boring or a bitch or unnecessary. She's none of those things to me, she has helped me through so much and I'm proud to cosplay Jyn, it was worth all the headaches and lines and logistics to get here.

Three weeks after NYCC, my dad passed away. He never really “got” the cosplay thing but was always supportive and loved seeing me express my creativity. I was lost and while I was finally feeling better from Lyme, I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to do anything at all ... and one day I woke up to a package from several of my Stardust Sisters chock full of Rogue One merch, snacks and even some treats (named portions) for my dog, Ares.

I’ve never experienced such generosity and at that time, I couldn’t believe that people who I’d only just met that year because we had a common goal of wanting to make costumes, could end up being such treasured and amazing friends. And it all happened because I wanted to make a costume.

https://www.vaultfox.org/

#Jyn Erso #Jyn Erso cosplay #rogue one #rogue one cosplay #star wars #star wars cosplay #cosplay #cosplay interview

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

Text

All the World's a Stage

Prompt 31: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you having sex.” Submitted by Buttercupbadass

Rated E (Explicit): Mainly for language because Johanna is a potty mouth and so are other certain characters whilst mid coitus okay I don’t make the rules here so there’s more than one f-bomb therefore we rate it E. Also sexual content.

Written by: @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Beta reading by: @stjohn27

************************

Act 1

Johanna Mason loves her neighbors. That is to say, she loves the entertainment they provide her with. It’s a rotating show of fabulous, ridiculous, and delicious drama, and she has a window to each and every one of their lives. Literally.

Victor’s Square is not exactly a square. It’s more of an elongated rectangle shaped building consisting of thirteen apartments, a workout room, a community center, and an office, with a hollowed out central area for a pool. Honestly, the pool is the reason she picked this place instead of The Arbor, which is pretty damn swanky but somehow they forgot to include a pool, of all things, when they added their five thousand luxury amenities. Since Johanna likes sunbathing and not golfing (ugh boring!), Victor’s Square won out.

The three story design of the building, and her luck in snagging the single apartment on top of the office, means that at some point in the day, barring sun glare on glass or inconvenient curtains, she can see directly into every other apartment on the rectangle. Hence the entertainment.

She’s been privy to all sorts of great shit, and none of them seem to know exactly what they’ve given her. The best part is, they’re clueless. As soon as she realized they were basically living their lives on a stage for her, Johanna started parading around her own place with the curtains wide open…while naked. Stark fucking naked. Just to see what would happen.

And nothing changed. No one complained. Which granted, she’s got a banging body. Axe wielding will do that, but she can think of at least half a dozen residents who’d be put off by her exhibitionism. And yet… nothing. No one started suspiciously keeping their curtains or blinds closed when they hadn’t before. Since they’re all too dumb to figure out that their lives are her parade, she just popped the popcorn and settled in for the show.

Tonight, however, Johanna is in no mood for the show. After a late night shift ending a bitch of a week, all she’s in the mood to do is swim a few laps to get the grime off of her skin then lay back in one of the lounge chairs around the pool, listening to the hum of the air conditioners in the sweltering Carolina night, swatting at the mosquitos because she’s too damn lazy to light the citronella torches, and stare up at the rectangle of starry sky she can see.

It’s quiet tonight. She swims her laps, and it works wonders to relax her tired bones and even more tired soul. After, she lays out on one of the squeaky lounge chairs. The hum and the warm air make her drowsy. Inevitably, she begins to doze, with only a vague awareness of the passage of time and the sounds around her.

It’s the loud click and the whoosh that wakes her. Just for a moment. Not long enough to place it at all before she fades back out into half slumber.

Her psyche is a bitch tonight, dropping long breathy moans into her dreams. The sex so good you can’t quite keep it in kind of moans, even though you’re trying. Completely aware that she messed up a truly great thing just days ago, she tells her subconcious to fuck off and stop reminding her of the one she let get away. Because she was stubborn. Unfortunately, her subconscious is not listening to her. Stupid fucker.

Scrunching up her nose, she refuses to move. She’s sticky with sweat and pretty sure that she’ll lose two layers of skin off her back and thighs when she goes to stand up from the lounge. Besides, there’s a low moaning noise that makes her wonder if maybe she wasn’t actually dreaming those sex sounds.

The moans in her mind grow louder and slightly more frantic until she can place the heavy feeling in her limbs. She’s awake after too little sleep.

Damn it. She’s not actually dreaming this shit. Which means one of her neighbors is on the brink of a seriously great orgasm. She’s not sure if she’s annoyed by the fact that she herself hasn’t had decent sex in far too long, or if she’s amused at yet another dramatic chapter in life at Victor’s Square.

The real question is… who’s doing the nasty tonight?

Act 2

A slight shiver and a thrill goes through Johanna as she finally opens her eyes and stares up at the canvas of stars above her.

Another moan ends in a slight squeal and fuck it, Johanna is hooked on the mystery. Shame she doesn’t have any popcorn down here, because given the sheer volume, and the way the sounds are magnified by the shape of the rectangle around the pool, she’s pretty sure whoever it is, they’re fucking with the windows open.

Kinky.

And a lot more interesting than her job. She does a happy little shimmy and settles in to guess who it possibly could be. First things first… she glances around the pool and discovers to her dismay that every apartment has at least one window open, but they’re all dark. Not surprising given that it’s well past midnight. But it’s unfortunately unhelpful. The air conditioner must be out again. That’s probably what that loud noise was earlier.

She closes her eyes again, hoping to pinpoint the direction of the sounds to figure out which of her neighbors is getting lucky tonight. But the shape of the building makes it impossible. Sounds just carry weird in this rectangular bullhorn. They could be coming from anywhere.

“Ung, yeah, right there… oh-oooooh!” The last sound is hitched and breathy. That’s a woman’s voice, Johanna thinks.

“Yes. Don’t — don’t stop! – I –” The word is pinched off in a desperate sort of ecstasy and Johanna smiles. This could be fun.

It can’t be Caesar and Claudius, the two radio talk show hosts who live in apartment 6. They’re gay. And men. And a couple. But truthfully, she’s not at all disappointed that she can rule them out. She already knows more than she’d like to admit about their sexual habits. Usually she’s not one to kink shame, but electrodes on nipples is a little too close to the realm of torture for her tastes.

“Yes! Please!” the woman begs and Johanna feels her body flush with the erotic sounds, she’s half aroused but fully invested in figuring out who this is. She could of course, get up and walk around to triangulate the sound, but what’s the fun in that?

She quickly rules out Mags in apartment 5. She’s the sweetest old lady, surprisingly spritely. From what Johanna has seen from old pictures of her, Mags was a fucking dish in her youth, but now she’s gotta be pushing ninety. Besides the wrinkles (shudder), Johanna would be worried about heart failure if Mags were the one getting her boots knocked around with this much vigor.

The long moans shift to the choppy, catch breath ones that mean she’s close, whoever the lucky bitch is.

Cinna in apartment 3 is out. He’s ace. Asexual and aromantic. Claims that he’s in a love affair with his work. Well if she could design clothes like the ones Cinna does, Johanna would be willing to give up sex too. She snorts a little and turns her ear, hoping for a better angle on the sound. She’s pretty sure it’s coming from one of the upstairs apartments, but can’t be sure.

Whoever it is, she lets fly a single high pitched note. And then a long stuttering moan that just sounds exactly how it feels to come back down from a really good orgasm. Satisfied, relieved, a little sleepy and a whole lotta euphoric.

Lucky bitch, Johanna thinks again. Her legs feel heavy and her toes tingle in empathy.

Now if only she could catch something of the partner’s noises…unless the woman is masturbating. Possible, but the directions to not stop earlier make it less likely.

A low pitched murmur and a deep masculine laugh helpfully nix that thought almost as soon as Johanna has it.

Not flying solo, but also Johanna can now rule out Enobaria and Lyme from apartment 2. She’s never understood them exactly. On the surface, you’d think they’d be perfect for one another. Their personalities mesh in a weird kinda way. Enobaria is louder while Lyme is more dignified, but they’re so often bickering about politics… and the truth is, they have an open relationship.

Or at least Johanna assumes they do based on the number of not-Lyme women Enobaria has entertained shoved up against the glass door leading to their balcony…but if not, Johanna is perfectly willing to offer up herself as a rebound to Lyme when the inevitable shit hits the fan. That woman is built like a house and fucking sexy in a domineering sort of way. Like Brienne of Tarth hotness.

She can order me to submit anytime she wants, Johanna thinks with a smirk.

As if confirming her thoughts, a long deep moan drifts down to her ears, slow and almost silky. Delighted and yet a little astonished, like he can’t quite believe his luck. Definitely a dude. Blowjob or penetration? Either way, this guy’s pent up, she thinks. She’s also guessing that the girl’s orgasm was from fingering or cunnilingus, which means the show is not anywhere near to being done.

There’s only so many people left who it could be…

Her phone vibrates on her chest and she finally opens her eyes again, lifting it above her face and squinting at the overly bright screen.

Finnick: I can’t believe you’re sleeping on this. Do you hear this?!

Johanna frowns. The time stamp is right now. Which rules out Finnick and Annie in apartment 4. Damn it. They were the most obvious choice for a man-woman pairing going at it with this much abandon, and while Johanna is pretty sure they have mind numbingly, porn worthy good sex, they’re unfortunately discreet about it.

It’s maddening.

Whenever she talks about Finnick and Annie, Johanna’s therapist always hums that way therapists sometimes do when they know you’re engaging in something destructive or unhealthy — such as a minor obsession with your best friend’s love and sex life — but the therapist wants you to figure it out on your own. Johanna can’t help it. Finnick’s a walking sexual fantasy for almost every woman out there. Even her lesbian friends find him hot. And Annie’s gorgeous. Johanna can’t help it if she not so secretly wants them to sandwich her. She’s got a good strap on that Annie could borrow to get it done.

But alas, or maybe fortunately, Finnick’s text eliminates them as the current lucky couple. Pity. She was hoping for something new to add to her spank bank.

Johanna: Where are you?

Finnick: Well we were asleep.

Johanna: Boring. You could be giving them competition.

As if to punctuate her point, a steady cadence of low, slow moans begins filling the air. They weave through the humidity and now Johanna is just angry.

Johanna: Do you know who it is?

Finnick: Nope. I have my theories…

Johanna: Ugh spare me.

There’s three potential couples left, and of those three, Johanna’s got a good guess who Finnick thinks it is, or at least wants it to be.

Johanna: I’ll gouge out my eyes if it’s them.

Finnick: Say it. Call them the name.

Johanna: I’m not using that stupid nickname, you absolute child

Finnick: Like you’re any better.

“Fuck fuck fuck, stop. You’re gonna make me come,” the lucky man gasps. The woman must say something because he chuckles and whispers back to her, the tone traveling if not the words. Johanna sets her phone down then, perked up by shuffling noises that sound maybe like a position change.

So who is left…

There’s Haymitch and Effie. Those two… residents of apartments 9 and 11 respectively…they pretend like they hate one another, and maybe they really do. While Johanna enjoys their epic fights, she’s not overly fond of their making up sessions. She’s pretty sure Effie was some kind of tantric goddess or pretzel in another life with the way that woman can bend.

It’s…unnatural.

Her phone vibrates again and Johanna lifts it in front of her face, this time it’s a notification from Facebook, sent out to all the residents in the group.

Effie: I have already filed a complaint with Mr. Heavensbee in regards to the broken a/c. He says there will be a repairman here first thing in the morning. In the meantime, we should all attempt to be cordial in our behaviors and not disturb the other residents since all will likely have the windows open for the night.

A text almost immediately after let’s Johanna know what her friend thinks of that.

Finnick: Where’s your sense of fun, Effie?

Johanna bites back a snort. Although the notice does rule out the exuberant woman as a candidate for Porn Queen tonight, so Johanna texts Finnick again.

Johanna: My money is on Cashmere and Gloss

Johanna sends the text and waits for the response. She’s not disappointed. She cackles internally at the flood of barf emojis and angry exclamations she gets back. Cashmere and Gloss of apartment 1, or as Johanna likes to call them, The Lannisters. Because they may be brother and sister, but they’re totally doing the nasty. Really nasty.

No one believes Johanna about this, though, and she’s not about to tell the other residents how she knows it’s a fact, not just some cockamamy theory of hers. People get pushed off walls for things like that.

Not to mention then they’d all figure out that she can see into their apartments as well and there goes that bit of fun.

“Fuck,” the lucky dude draws the word out into almost a croak, and there’s a soft sigh from her.

Finnick: Something is wrong with you

Johanna: Do you think he’s well hung? Whoever he is?

Finnick: Who cares as long as he knows how to use it?

Johanna shakes her head at this, easily able to picture her friend wiggling his eyebrows.

Johanna: He sounds well hung. It could still be Haymitch, sans Effie

After all, Haymitch isn’t officially tied down, and at the last residence brunch, Peeta’s good friend Delly was visiting and wasn’t at all subtle about her attraction to Haymitch. The girl was deceptively sweet, bubbly and innocent, but with those knockers on her chest and the way she kept laughing at Haymitch’s worst jokes, Johanna is pretty sure Delly has a thing for the much older man.

Finnick: I’m going to ignore your obsession with Haymitch’s junk for now. And also nope. Annie says she can see Haymitch through our window, sitting on his balcony, drinking.

Finnick: Alone.

Well damn. There goes that theory. Just to be sure, Johanna turns her head and cranes her neck. Sure enough, Haymitch sits on his balcony, lounged back in his chair with a glass in hand. After a second or two, he must feel eyes on him because he looks down towards Johanna and lifts the glass in toast.

Which is when the wall pounding begins and the lucky man’s moans start to grow out of control. Damn. They’re really into it now.

Finnick: You know I’m right

Johanna: You’re ridiculous.

Finnick: It’s Peeniss. How much you wanna bet?

Johanna rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Finnick has some crazy theory that Peeta Mellark, baker and all around way too nice guy of apartment 8 is somehow secretly dating Katniss-I-Will-Shoot-You-If-You-Touch-Me-Everdeen of apartment 12. Not that the girl doesn’t need a good fuck. If anyone is desperately in need of a body shaking, mind blowing, toe curling orgasm, like the one currently building in the summer night, it’s that perpetually scowling and uptight bitch.

Johanna just seriously doubts that the woman now moaning in cadence with the steady headboard thumps and the increasing volume is Katniss. She sounds way too into it, relaxed. Whoever she is, she’s getting nailed five ways to Sunday and is ecstatic about it.

It could be one of Katniss’ lovely roommates. Katniss lives with her younger sister and one of her best friends, Madge Undersee, in apartment 12. They’re crammed into it somehow… but before Johanna can suggest it to Finnick, she dismisses the idea.

Prim’s at college, left three days ago…so it won’t be her. Shame. She’s been living under her big sister’s overprotective arch so long that the poor girl has got some catching up to do in the sex arena. College will be good for that, but it means she’s not the woman–

“Fuck yeah.” A resounding slap and the accompanying whimper make Johanna’s eyes go wide. “Lift that ass for me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Love it when you do that.”

Whoa. Okay.

It could be Madge. Or Gale who lives right next door in apartment 13, but they’re almost as unlikely candidates as Katniss. Johanna is pretty sure Madge is a lesbian. Closeted still, unfortunately, because Johanna wouldn’t mind burying her face between those creamy thighs. And Gale… well it could be Gale, Johanna supposes, with some lucky girl who doesn’t live in Victor’s Square.

Maybe Delly.

Shame it’s not me, Johanna thinks and risks stretching a little. It has been her before, in her own apartment, because while Gale is usually down to fuck, he’s never down to doing it in his apartment.

That’s because he’s got a massive boner for Katniss and isn’t willing to risk her knowing that he fucks around with at least half a dozen girls that are not Katniss. Masochist. That’s what Gale is. But it’s also why Johanna doubts that Gale is the guy currently balls deep in ecstasy. He’s too loud for someone who wants to keep his sex life secret from his neighbor.

As for Peeta…well it could be Peeta with a girl who isn’t Katniss. He’s handsome and sweet enough to get plenty of pussy, if he tried—

“No! Don’t stop!”

“You don’t get to come again just yet,” the man growls and Johanna automatically clenches her thighs at the commanding tone.

More shuffling and grunting. One yelp from her, then the pounding resumes. And doesn’t let up.

“Harder!”

Faster and faster, his moans keeping pace. The resounding slapping of skin.

“Gonna – gonna!”

A chorus of “yes’s” and desperate pleas.

“Fucking yes! Peeta!”

Her phone goes off with a stupid amount of speed.

Finnick: I TOLD YOU!!!!

Johanna types madly at this.

Johanna: So it’s not the Lannisters, but that doesn’t mean it’s Katniss up there with Peeta.

Finnick: Oh come on! Who else could it be? You know he’s got it bad for her!

Okay yeah, there is that. There’s also the fact that Johanna shouldn’t be so bitter about this. Just like Katniss is in dire need of a good fuck, so is Peeta. But based on the sounds and the things they said…

Whoever she is, she’s still squealing and the thumping hasn’t let up yet. Damn that’s a long orgasm, Johanna thinks with more than a little jealousy.

“Come for me. Fucking come inside me. Now. Peeta!”

Those aren’t the words of a sexually frustrated prude talking, Johanna wants to say. Nor are they words of a couple going at it for the first time. Nope. This couple is way too comfortable with each other for it to be a first time. This couple has fucked before. Maybe often.

Go baker boy, Johanna wants to say, but she can’t imagine who he’s with. He hasn’t so much as brought a date home in a year.

A series of texts from Finnick crop up on her phone. Flame emojis and winking faces. An eggplant or two and the three drops of water people use to represent cum. Johanna slouches in her chair, a little miffed that she can’t shut Finnick up yet until…

There’s a deep growling, animalistic sound. A long string of curse words mixed with moans and then—

“Katniss. Fuuuuuuuuck.”

The curse word takes him about a minute to get out all the way. Damn it, Johanna thinks. Now Finnick will be impossible to live with. She can’t even look at her phone as it blows up again, knowing that he’ll be gloating. Instead she turns it off.

As carefully as she can, Johanna peels herself off the lounge chair and tiptoes towards the stairs, intent on reaching her own balcony. Not because it sits caddy corner to Peeta’s apartment and if they’re in his room, it’ll be easier for her to hear any pillow talk. Not at all.

She hurries and nearly gives herself away with the door, but manages it. She stands in the shadows of her balcony and nearly chokes on her tongue at the first thing she hears, besides the unmistakable sounds of coming down thrusts or sucks, maybe kissing, quiet aftermath moans.

“Hold still. I’m not done.”

“Feels too good,” he pants. “Can’t take much more, Katniss.”

“Mmm, you’ll take it and you’ll like it.”

“Yeah, I will,” he says and she giggles.

“Are you braiding my hair?”

“Can’t help it. You look so gorgeous sucking yourself off my dick… I can stop…”

“No… go ahead.”

Another few seconds of suction noises and then Peeta sighs in relief.

There’s the fwump and creak of a bed under weight. Johanna can practically see them all cuddled up like a cute little couple in his bed. Sighing and kissing and caressing in their afterglow.

Disgusting.

“Such a cute ass, and all mine,” Katniss says and there’s a slap then a gasp.

Fucking hell, Johanna thinks, eyes bulging out of her head.

Who would’ve thought the two of them would be so wild in bed? Who would’ve thought they were actually fucking each other?

Johanna wrinkles her nose then, finally forcing herself to go inside her own place. Just out of curiosity, though, she chances one last peek at Peeta’s place. The curtains are drawn, but a helpful gust sucks them out the window just long enough for Johanna to catch a glimpse of two naked bodies on his bed, illuminated in the soft glow of a lamp. Katniss with her head tipped over the edge in the direction of the window and a smile on her face as Peeta kisses a lazy path over her body. Her fingers plucking absently at the tangled sheets.

Well damn and fuck.

Johanna heads to bed after that and prepares a salvo of taunting for tomorrow morning. There’s no way she’s letting something this juicy go unremarked upon, especially since literally everyone who was home would’ve heard it.

Act 3

In the morning, Johanna is up early and down at the community center well before the once a month residents’ brunch that Effie insists on hosting. Poor thing is pinch faced and pale this morning, flummoxed when Johanna offers to help set up.

“I suppose. Since no one else appears to be out and about yet. Nothing funny with the vegetables this time,” Effie chastises and Johanna salutes. She’s got better things planned than erotic displays with the produce.

Honestly, she couldn’t care less about the flower arrangements or the energy inherent in the order of food laid out on the table. Helping Effie this morning affords her a prime view through the community center windows of each stairwell and of everyone arriving this morning.

And not just for brunch, she thinks with a smirk as she spots Gale, still wearing his work shirt, sneaking up a stairwell towards apartment 13.

Where have you been all night? Johanna wonders. Not with Katniss, the girl he’s so obviously got the hots for. Even better for the impending drama. She wonders if he’ll find his neighbors present or if Katniss is still cozied up with Peeta in post coital bliss. They’re probably totally morning sex people, Johanna decides.

Slow, sweet morning sex with loving words. Ugh, gag me, Johanna rolls her eyes at her own thoughts.

Preparations move swiftly after that, even with Effie on her case every few minutes. The pending drama is just too great to dampen her mood.

Peeta’s one of the first to arrive, conspicuously alone. He chats with Johanna for a few minutes, friendly as always, and then moves off as more of the residents arrive.

It takes everything in Johanna’s energy reserve to not throw something at the back of his head. He acts like he didn’t have the fuck of his life last night. It befuddles her and also infuriates her because it means Finnick could be right.

Oh my god, Finnick could be right about them! They might actually be dating. Who’s to say they aren’t if they can keep their sex life together such a secret. If the air conditioner hadn’t failed…

Peeta’s nonchalance this morning throws all her arguments against Finnick’s stupid Peeniss theories out the window. How is that even possible? She had Peeta pegged as a total softie. Hand holding, nose rubbing, and obnoxiously cute, borderline clingy PDA type of guy, not a rail you into the bed then pretend I don’t even know you the next morning type of guy.

Huh. Pegging. Wonder if he’s into that, Johanna thinks then has to forcibly shake the image out of her head. Because not only does it make sense in a way, but the image is also…sexy as fuck. And she doesn’t need yet another happy dappy ass couple to fantasize about and maker her therapist hum at her in that knowing way.

Fuck Finnick and his stupid theories.

When the tenants of apartments 12 and 13 finally arrive together, Madge splits off to talk to Mags. Gale and Katniss are both suspiciously wet haired. If Johanna didn’t know any better, she’d guess that they were the culprits last night, especially when Katniss doesn’t even so much as look in Peeta’s direction.

Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s avoiding her fuck buddy, talking to literally everyone else, twisting the damp ends of her braid around her finger.

“What do you make of it?” Johanna asks Finnick, bumping her hip into his. He shrugs, with that insufferable smirk on his face that he always gets whenever he’s right.

For two people who were so clearly intimate last night, Katniss and Peeta are doing a pretty good job of acting like the other one doesn’t even exist.

“They’re just… both very private people. But the signs are all there for anyone paying attention.”

“But that’s the thing… the signs aren’t there!” Johanna protests. What game are they playing, she wonders.

“I just don’t get it,” Johanna says and Finnick glances down at her.

“What?”

She waves her hands at Peeta, who looks for all the world like he’s fascinated by whatever Caesar is talking about. But why would he be when Katniss is literally right there.

“They act like nothing happened.”

“Well we know something happened,” Finnick says conspiratorially. Then his smile slips. “Actually, everyone here knows about it.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Apparently everyone was home last night…”

“Not Gale,” Johanna adds and lifts one eyebrow. Finnick’s eyes go wide and his mouth turns round.

“Oh my. Delicious.”

“Isn’t it?”Johanna says. “But still… you wouldn’t guess it from the way they act.”

“They can’t stop looking at each other.”

Johanna turns her head and motions at them. Absolutely not looking at one another.

“Are not.”

“You missed it. Gotta be quick with these two.”

Johanna shakes her head as she watches Katniss, and Gale who is placing some kind of food on her plate. She’s nodding and listening to him but subtly shifting the food off to the side of her plate while picking up something else and nibbling on it straight away.

And finally, Johanna can’t take it anymore. She stomps over to the tables and loads up her own plate, absolutely not eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Thought you were gonna text me when you got off work?” Gale says.

“Oh. Something came up… Prim. Prim needed to talk.”

“Everything alright?” Gale asks.

And this time, Johanna just catches the quick dart of gray eyes towards blue. Peeta’s shy smile. Katniss’ swift flutter of lashes and nibble on her bottom lip before returning her attention to Gale.

“It is now.”

“Usually is after a seriously good orgasm or two. And by the way, that’s low, using your baby sister as an excuse,” Johanna snorts. She doesn’t mean to, but it just sort of slips out.

Katniss whips around to face her. Dark rouge staining her high cheekbones and her lips pinched together.

“My sister isn’t an excuse.”

“Oh please. Cut the crap.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katniss hisses.

“I’m talking about the fact that we never see the two of you so much as kiss or even hold hands in public, but last night, I heard you having sex. Loud sex. Phenomenal, shake the rafters loud, sex.” Johanna smirks at the pair of stunned faces looking at her. And the dozen curious faces plus Peeta’s mortified one. All of them focused on her. Center stage, she thinks with a grin and waves a half eaten croissant around at the gathered crowd. “We all heard you. Except for Gale here who was probably out getting consolation tail since you didn’t text him. Really, Brainless, what do you expect if you and baker boy are gonna bang with the windows open?”

There’s ten seconds of stunned silence before Finnick shouts, “I figured it out first, by the way!” Then he grunts as Annie elbows him in the gut.

“Baker boy?” Gale practically growls and Johanna sashays away as Peeta steps over to stand behind a now scowling Katniss. Her hand clenches into a fist as she faces Gale. She leans back against Peeta’s chest, as if she knows he’s there before she even sees him. Good for her. At least she’s not going to shy away from it. But now they’re going to be every bit as insufferably disgusting as Finnick and Annie are.

Love’s a bitch, oh well. Time for that popcorn, Johanna thinks.

#Springtime Edition 2020 #katnissdoesnotfollowback #buttercupbadass #Prompt 31 #early submission #submission

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livebloggingmydescentintomadness · 4 years

Text

hey so i should probably put up a personal post apologizing to both those who’ve sent messages that have gone unanswered and friends i haven’t responded to in too long.

basically, i have chronic lyme disease, and it’s a fucking bitch of an illness. the part of it that’s known as neuroborreliosis has gotten really bad lately, and it forced me to finally get my shit together and read a book i bought a while ago (Healing Lyme by Stephen Buhner) and work on implementing this protocol for eradicating lyme.

lyme is caused by spirochetes, the same type of bacteria that causes syphilis, and when the disease is not caught immediately or when it incubates for a period of time, it becomes incurable by antibiotics. for disgustingly political reasons, chronic lyme is unrecognized by the CDC, therefore there is no formal funding or research on its treatment, much less a cure.

i was given antibiotics for nearly a year straight, which was an incredibly unpleasant experience, and every single time i went off them the lyme came back, because spirochetes are terrifyingly clever. reading about how these things work freaks me out in ways i can’t describe. they deploy methods of survival that make them almost impossible to kill, and they can permeate every single organ and system in your entire body, from your brain to your heart to your joints to your muscles to your skin. they can cause every symptom you could possibly imagine. they can kill you.

i’ve been treading water since i went off antibiotics, taking herbs and getting non-traditional treatments like acupuncture, but i recently had the realization that what i’ve been taking can’t cross the blood-brain barrier and therefore can’t do anything about the spirochetes colonizing my nervous system. i’ve been slowly but steadily getting worse, until now where i can barely get out of bed at all and i’m in constant pain.

long story short, i’m working on starting this protocol that lots of people say has massively improved their condition, so i’m hopeful about that. but the process of eradicating spirochetes is extremely difficult in of itself, because when they die they release poison into your system and make you feel awful. to be completely honest, it’s likely that i have some permanent brain damage that can never be totally reversed, and i’ll probably never be healthy again no matter what.

but i do have some hope that i can get better with this, and frankly, i’d be over the moon happy if i could just get back to where i was 5 years ago. i used to grind my own flour and bake my own bread, i used to play the piano and go to the opera sometimes, i used to actually read books. right now it takes all my strength to shower twice a week and feed myself every day. it’s just going to be a rough process, as this protocol has to go on for a solid year and i don’t know if i’ll start to feel better or if i’ll start to feel even worse.

anyway, i haven’t had the mental energy to post about this much so i thought i’d just explain the whole thing here. if anyone has questions about lyme please feel free to ask, just keep in mind that it might take me a while to answer lol. if you’ve sent me messages that i haven’t answered, please know that i’ve seen them and i care about you, i’m just in really bad shape at the moment and i’ve been reblogging a lot as a distraction but not able to do much typing. thanks for understanding and thanks for being great in general. <3

#personal #lyme disease #i don't know if this needs to be tagged for any trigger warnings....#like spirochetes give me huge heebie jeebies but i don't know how i'd tag that lol #i'll probably be reblogging this a few times so everyone sees it

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seghs24 · 5 years

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Honestly fuck 99% of doctors

A lot of them are absolute fucking sweethearts that will do anything to help their patients. My mom is a doctor and she’s one of the most caring, amazing people in the world.

But then you have the doctors who have no sympathy for their patients. If they can’t immediately figure out what’s wrong they just say “Well, it’s anxiety, try to stop stressing :)” or even accuse them of lying when in reality the patient is gravely fucking ill and fighting to stay alive and functioning.

Patients come to them for help, and they end up being dismissed, sent away or even abused because doctors don’t know how to fucking listen or do their jobs, they just want an easy fix so their patient can pay them and fuck off.

Some doctors don’t even know what they’re doing and routinely ignore or misdiagnose common issues like PCOS, Endometriosis, Lyme Disease, etc because they think the patient is just being a whiny bitch who needs to suck it up because oh, your pain isn’t that bad, it’s just stress and anxiety, go see a psychologist. Oh dear, that symptom was actually caused by a cancerous tumor and now you’re dead? Whoopsies!

They think that because they went to school and got a degree that they’re somehow above their patients and know everything in the world, and we’re just dumb bumbling animals to be poked and prodded and laughed at and ignored.

I used to be totally fine with needles! I mean yeah, they sucked and I didn’t like getting shots, but besides being annoyed at needing a shot that was it. Until I had to get blood drawn for the first time. My doctor said the lab techs were the BEST, and they would draw the blood in a jiffy and I would be on my way.

The lab tech couldn’t find the vein in my arm, and instead of pulling the needle out, began MOVING IT AROUND UNDER MY SKIN. I could literally feel my skin stretching and moving from the needle under it. After doing this for a bit they moved to the other arm and immediately just stuck the needle in and repeated the process of wiggling it around under my skin.

I ended up blacking out and having to be quickly laid down onto a mat on the floor so that I didn’t fall out of the chair and hurt myself. All the lab tech did was lean over me with wide eyes and say “Oh, you turned a different color!”

The next time I needed blood drawn my mother warned the lab tech how I reacted before and she laughed and said “That’s okay, lots of people are scared of needles, it’s normal.” Once again she couldn’t find the vein, and LAUGHED and said “Haha your veins are trying to hide, they’re pretty small.” Surprise surprise, this time instead of just blacking out I began to have an anxiety attack. I threw up and then had to be laid down on the floor.

My anxiety was so horrible that I refused to get blood drawn or get shots any more. I needed blood drawn again but this time my therapist called down to the lab and lo and behold, they told her I could use numbing cream where they would draw blood! They could use a pediatric needle that wasn’t as big! They could draw blood from somewhere besides the crook of my elbow! But I guess they never thought to tell me that or try something different after finding out that I would immediately be sent into an anxiety attack, vomit and black out when getting blood drawn.

When we went in to get my blood drawn my nurse was a fucking ANGEL. She used a pediatric needle, let me lay down flat on my back, and drew the blood from the back of my hand, you know, where you can actually SEE the fucking veins. She drew my blood quickly and not once did I ever feel like I was going to have an anxiety attack, black out, or vomit.

But it’s not just the doctors that treat physical issues, no, it’s the therapists and psychologists too. I had a therapist once that was nice and made me laugh, but she didn’t listen for shit. I told her multiple times that I had no desire to get a drivers license, I was uncomfortable with driving, I would just rather not.

One day she said, word for word, that “Next we can start working on your goal of getting your drivers license.” I could only sit there in confusion and stare at her because, uhhhh, MY goal of getting a drivers license? You mean the thing I said over five times that I didn’t want? That was the last time I went and saw her.

A lot of doctors can’t even do the bare minimum. My mom’s aunt nearly died after being bucked off her horse after it spooked, and was in the hospital. She had a punctured lung, broken wrist, broken ribs, concussion, the whole works. She was extremely cold and requested a blanket three times while we were there with her. She wasn’t even rude about it or demanding, she just said “Can I please have a blanket?” The nurses never brought her one, my mom eventually got fed up and went and got a blanket herself.

So yeah, fuck 99% of doctors.

#Long post #Shaddup Seghs

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queenofbaws · 4 years

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going absolutely emo on main, puh-lEASE feel free to ignore if youre not down to clown with more chronic illness talk but im going 2007 with this shit and screaming into the void of the internet until i feel better

something i dont see people talking a whole lot about when it comes to bullshit medical mysteries is how good news is almost always still bad news when you get right down to it, like

ive been waiting WEEKS for these test results to come in and everythings negative! which on the face of it is good news, right? i dont have to go spend like a month in the hospital getting detoxed for a rare, weirdass infection, sweet! but the flipside of that is uhhhhhhh

well yet again ive stumped another fucking specialist who just looks at all my blood results, sees my non-functioning body, sees my absolute lack of improvement on ANY medication or supplement or treatment plan, and is just left to scratch their head going ‘well thats pretty weird huh?’

and like BEFORE this i had to wait weeks to get back blood results that also, at first glance, were full of good news! not anemic! no sign of blood infection! no lyme, no epstein-barr, no meningitis, no nothin baybeeeeeeeeee

except all the weird readings thatre like 6x the levels theyre supposed to be, telling everyone in big, bold, flashing lights ‘yo this bitch is ILL’ but no one can figure out with WHAT or HOW or WHY and i am

pretty fuckin mad today ell oh ell i should be super stoked and relieved but im just NOT because at this point its been five l i t e r a l years of being unbearably sick every single day of my life and youd think someone SOMEWHERE would have. some kind of idea. but nah nah nah son

ughhhhHHHHHHHHH

#personal #im a medical mess #plz dont reblog i am 900% positive im deleting this once this mood passes #but rn im going full livejournal myspace screamo #plus today a delivery person recognized me from my old job and i look lik ean absolute garbage gremlin in a billie eilish getup #whos been crying all day and hasnt showered yet so like #theres a lot of emotion going on rn my dudes #16 yo queenie is coming out to say hi

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fuck-customers · 6 years

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Gonna be a long-ass spring and summer with people in here every day bitching about how "expensive" flea and tick treatments are. Dumbass, it's a fuck of a lot less expensive than treating your poor dog for Lyme disease or having an exterminator bug bomb your whole house because it's infested with fleas. I can't do anything about the price anyway so shut the fuck up.

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lorata · 2 years

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Do Claudius and Alec still become close without Selene as a link in the injured-Creed AU? And would Petra be jealous that Alec "only" lost an arm and not his mobility?

the short answer to question 2 is no! they are kin in that regard. as for question 1 -- HERE HAVE FIC (under the readmore)

District 2 gets its first back-to-back Victors in 30 years, and that’s … fine.

Claudius is twenty-five years old, he’s not a baby or a jealous teenager who needs to sabotage what other people have just because it isn’t his. Petra and Alec won hard Games and came out scarred, he’s not going to deny they deserve to have someone their age who understands them. Be nice to know what that felt like, but whatever, the deaths didn’t fall in his favour, it’s fine. Petra hates him, but now she’s got a buddy, and he’s even missing a limb so she doesn’t even have to resent his privileged existence. Now they can go have tea parties and bitch about all the privileged able-bodied assholes who just don’t get what it’s like.

Lyme asks if Claudius wants to meet Alec, once he’s cleared for visitors, but Claudius begs off. He sends cookies along with everyone else, but he’s not going to put the poor kid in an awkward position of sitting through an afternoon playing nice with the weird dude from that year nobody talks about, and the thought of Alec going over to Petra’s and laughing about it afterward is excruciating. That really is the hallmark of getting old, caring what the kids think of him, but you know what, he’s allowed to have his feelings.

Sometimes Claudius wonders if this is how Enobaria felt when he won, but then he remembers bleeding out onto her hardwood while she stepped over him and went to bed and he thinks, ah, actually, probably not.

So the kids have a friend for life and Claudius is a loner and it’s fine. It’s fine. He’s got his mentor, and he has Misha, who must have some kind of weird emotional radar because she ramps up the harassment and stealth gifts of profane embroidery until Claudius snaps at her to fuck off and leave him alone. Except that later that night she climbs in his window with a loaf of soft, pull-apart bread and containers of Snow only knows to dip it in and turns on a terrible spy movie and paints his nails glittery black while they eat like he didn’t just bite her head off that afternoon, and okay, maybe he doesn’t need to be quite so tragic about it.

Around October, he runs into Alec in the apple orchard. Or rather, Alec runs into him.

There’s no way around it; Claudius is coming back from the mountain and there’s Alec on the path, feet planted, one arm wrapped around his chest. He’s got his head tilted, chin raised, and a stubborn look on his face.

Oh, Claudius thinks in a crackle of clarity. Thisis how Enobaria felt when he showed up at her house at three in the morning spoiling for a fight.

“Hi,” he says, because he’s the elder now and that means he has to be mature, but at the same time he probably should have checked with Callista about whether she’s okay with her twitchy baby Victor getting in knife-fights with the Village recluse.

Alec studies him for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “You’re avoiding me.”

He says it calm and matter of fact, and Claudius’ first impulse is to sputter out a denial. Instead he bites his tongue and rolls back on his heels. “Oh?”

“Everybody else has come by to say hi.”

“Bullshit.” By the Victory Tour, sure, but mid-fall is still way too early for the whole Village to make a personal appearance. At that point Claudius was still looking for knives when he rounded a corner. “What is this about?”

For the first time a bit of the challenge slips, revealing the tired kid around the mouth and the circles below the eyes. But it’s not just the long exhaustion of recovery, there’s something else in the curve of his eyebrows, the play of fingertips along his hem. “It’s not like I don’t know. I’m the same age. As — those kids. In your Arena.”

He — what?

Time for math. Claudius always sucked at reading but he can do Games calculations just fine, thanks, and yeah, Alec winning the 73rd would put him at twelve the same year as all the outlier tributes Claudius’ year. Suddenly Claudius feels very old and very tired and very much like he has not had enough therapy to identify what the fuck is wrong with this picture. “Uh,” Claudius says, intelligently. “Okay, I don’t know what you think is happening here, but — that is not it. You think I’m avoiding you because you remind me of the kids I killed?”

Alec flushes dark, but to his credit, he doesn’t back down. And yeah, okay, Claudius has his own issues, but the last thing a new Victor needs in his recovery is thinking his very existence is someone else’s trauma-bomb. This seems like the kind of thing Callista should have brought to his attention, but maybe Alec never mentioned it. Keeping it a secret from his mentor and confronting the possibly volatile, hostile, triggered Victor in the apple orchard seems like exactly the kind of dumbass strategy a young Victor would come up with, so … yeah, why not.

He also can’t leave it like that, and not only because Callista will gut him and feet him to her cats for breakfast. Claudius sighs and heroically resists the urge to pinch his nose. “We’re not going to solve this on the path. Come back with me and we’ll — something.”

Alec gives him the side-eye as Claudius brushes past him, but even Claudius can’t ignore the way he’s no longer holding himself like there’s a sword jammed up his spine.

‘Something’ turns out to be cookies, because Alec isn’t cleared for fighting and Claudius can’t stand the thought of sitting on the couch and staring at each other while the awkwardness fills the room like poison gas. Baking is … good, right, who doesn’t love baking, except he didn’t think about how many simple tasks use both hands and has to keep switching out what he’s about to ask Alec to do. Normally he’d give him stirring, that’s the baby task, but it’s a bitch and a half when you can’t hold the bowl still, and Alec can sit and trap the bowl between his thighs — or Claudius can trust him to measure ingredients without fucking up.

They’re Careers. Careers are good at following instructions with precision. Not everyone has a pathological need to reinvent the wheel like Misha. It’ll be fine.

“For what it’s worth, I never thought about you being twelve,” Claudius says over the bowl of butter and sugar. “It’s not even about the math, it’s — all of that is before. We are who we are when we walk through those gates, nothing else matters. Talking about a Victor’s life before Residential is super weird. It feels … not illegal, that’s a big dramatic, but … I don’t know the word for it. What’s the opposite of classy?”

“Gauche?” Alec suggests, and huh, okay, Claudius has heard Brutus use five-dollar words with military precision and ridiculous satisfaction precisely because he knows no one expects him to, but it didn’t sound like that. He’ll blame Alec for this given their conversation, but Claudius can’t help the tiny checkbox that appears in his head saying educated.

“I was gonna say rude as shit, but sure, let’s go with that. It’s gauche.” He doesn’t say it with a Capitol accent, which should earn him a reward, but instead he reaches out for the bowl of eggs. Alec had cracked them both one-handed with the kind of satisfaction that spoke to a hell of a lot of practice. Claudius imagines Callista rolling up with a bucketload of eggs — oddly charming. “Your life is your business, you know? I never even did the math before.”

“Okay.” Alec says it slowly, but he doesn’t argue. Which is good, because honestly, the thought of anyone imagining Claudius as a twelve-year-old is absolutely mortifying. “So then … why?”

Oh, boy. Here��s where Claudius will give it up for the new kid, he’s way braver than Claudius ever was. He might have knocked on Enobaria’s door in the middle of the night and demanded she fight him, but he never would have had the guts to ask her why she didn’t want to be his friend. In training they used to bark at candidates for leaving openings in their guard; Claudius has no words for whatever this is.

“I guess I just thought it would be weird.” The sun’s at the right angle to shine through the kitchen window, catching the light of the little prism hung from the frame and scattering rainbows across the ceiling. “I’ve been out a while, you and Petra are back to back. You didn’t need any third-wheeling.”

Alec wrinkles his nose. “We’re not dating. That wouldn’t even work.”

Claudius does not mention that only one generation is Misha, a woman who likes women, and Devon, a man who’s into men, who are in fact dating. He didn’t learn that little fact until at least a year in, and Alec isn’t anywhere near either Brutus or Lyme’s mentoring lines, so he won’t likely hear of that for a while unless Petra’s into gossip. He nearly hands Alec a knife, pauses, weighs asking a fresh Victor if he’s cleared for knives versus the likelihood that they’ll lie to get their hands on one, then passes over the chocolate block and snags a paper bag from the cupboard instead. “Here,” he says. “Smash this.”

“Smash —“ Alec blinks.

“Buying broken chocolate is stupid,” Claudius says, and Alec lets out a startled snort. “Hit it with a hammer, or throw it on the ground and stomp on it. It’s cathartic.” See, he knows some educated words, when it counts.

They get the dough in the fridge to chill and retire to the couch. Alec doesn’t react with surprise or disbelief like Claudius did the first time he learned that step, which puts him in a rare fucking box indeed, the ‘we made cookies when I was small’ box, where Claudius normally puts abnormally wholesome people like Emory or Devon. Even Petra, for all her issues, has the requisite fucked-up childhood. Alec tucks his feet under him and massages his shoulder absently; for his part Claudius isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do now. Misha needs constant entertainment, like a bored puppy, or she’ll decide to rearrange his furniture or plait his hair into dozens of tiny braids with ribbons on the ends, but Alec seems content to sit.

“Okay, so.” Alec stares intently at his feet. His socks have cats on them, holding hands in a circle around his ankle and singing at the moon, which Claudius didn’t notice before and now cannot stop looking at. “I don’t want to be rude or whatever, but you know you can have more than one friend? This isn’t the Arena, we’re not claiming Allies.”

“Have you told Petra that?” Claudius shoots back, because it’s better than pointing out that actually, in the Village, it has historically been exactly like that. Friendships are made or broken along hierarchy lines, he and Petra never gelled and now that she has Alec that should be it. He’d be an asshole to poach her new best friend. He’d even call precedent to defend his concerns, except that the decade above them has Emory, Misha and Devon defying expectations, and, shit.

Alec shoots him a look so dry and exasperated he may as well have peeled it right out of the Brutus photo album. Claudius is impressed. “See, this is starting to sound like a you problem.”

Claudius stares at him for a second, then can’t help a short laugh. “Did anyone tell you you’re a little bitchy?”

“Long history of swallowing bullshit, I don’t have to do it anymore.” Alec grins at him, sharp with an undercurrent of — something he’s not saying. Interesting. Maybe it wasn’t all cookies and five-dollar words after all. “Seriously though. I won the Games, I get to ask for what I want now. Callista says so.”

Okay, see, now, that sounds — Claudius slants a sharp look at him, but Alec seems happy enough to examine the fireplace, chin resting on his knee. He probably imagined it. “Okay, well.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We can bring the cookies over and see if she throws them in my face, how’s that.”

“She won’t,” Alec says, brightening, and yeah all right, fine, it’s not the worst to find that gnarled knot of resentment in his chest and let it go. “Not if you have nutmeg.”

“Oh, you’re one of those, I see.” Claudius nudges him with his foot. “Secret Emory under all that sass, I see you. Come on, let’s check the dough.”

#lorata answers #anonymous #oc: alec seward #oc: claudius #we must be killers: tales from district 2 #injured creed au #my writing

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