#maybe i can get away with wearing my shirts open if i have my binder on

[icarus-star]

I know requests are closed but I'm afraid I'll forget to send you this once they're open. Would you be willing to write an Ollie fic about him hooking up with a FTM and discovering you still have F bits. (I saw you mention something about this earlier and it hits my heart dead on!)

iris. | ollie sway

a/n: the color blue is rotting my brain rn hi guys. i decided to make this blue. and, the title has nothing to do with it except irises r blue. contains: reader on t, "dick" & "cock" are used to describe bottom growth, reader wears a binder, ollie is uneducated he has no clue what to do (but mainly bcuz he's a virginnn), blowjob (reader receiving), no penetration this time sorry folks.

you met him at a bar. you noticed him before anyone else, maybe due to his thick long hair or lonesome demeanour. there was just something about him that drew you in, and he thought the same about you.

he had never been with another man, but you had entranced him. maybe it was your eye's or the way you dressed, or maybe it was just simply how you smiled at him when he sat by you on one of the bar stools.

and somehow, it all ended up here. on his bed, making out while you clumsily kicked your shoes off of your feet. his hand's held onto each side of your head as yours were unbuttoning his pants. ollie was a little surprised, so he pulled away for a moment. "are we reall--?" before he finished his sentence, you cut him off with a rough kiss and a little "mhm" as you did so.

you pushed his pants down for him and he kicked them off to the side. he quickly became needy, his hand's tugging at your shirt to get it off. you moved away from the kiss, allowing him to take your shirt off for you. once he did, he discovered the black binder that you wore under your clothes. "huh, what's that?" he asked, his head tilted in confusion. was it something that you had to wear for medical reasons? was it something like that?

you looked at him for a moment. "uh, it's a uh, binder. you know, i told you earlier that i'm trans..?" you replied in an awkward manner. maybe he just wasn't paying attention to what you were saying earlier.

"yeah, i remember that but, what's that for? is it uh.. a scoliosis thing?" he questioned, nowhere near correct with his guesses.

you shook your head. "mm-mm, it's to like, suppress the boobs.. because they're still there and i don't want them to be." you tried to explain in a way that he would understand.

ollie nodded, understand what you said to the best of his abilities. "so, do you wanna keep it on while we, uh.. ya know." he asked.

you thought for a moment. "i mean, i'm not really supposed to wear it for super long so uh, if you're not super like, weird about them, i'd like to take it off." you answered back.

ollie nodded again. "yeah, no touching the boobs, got it." he smiled, watching as you fumbled to take off the binder that had felt oh so restricting to you ever since the first kiss you got from ollie.

once it was off, ollie moved to kiss you again. he took off his shirt as well, moving right back into the kiss as he tossed it somewhere else in the room. his lips were so soft. in the kiss, he tried to unbutton your pants, though he had to pull away to look down and get them off for you. you giggled softly, taking over and kicking your pants off of your ankles.

ollie went down to kiss your neck, sucking at the skin close to your throat. you let out a little whine, moving your hand to jerk ollie off through his boxers. ollie let out a breathy noise, than decided to do the same. but, "uh.."

"oh yeah, cool, time for another quick explanation." you say, pulling away from ollie. "so, 'cause i take testosterone, it causes -in scientific terms- "growth of the clitoris", so, i don't have a dick but uhhh, i still call it that..?" you say, praying that you explained it properly.

ollie nodded, seemingly processing the information you had just given him. he got down in front of you, between your legs. "so, can i uh.." he trails off, his finger tugging at the waistband of your underwear. you nod, allowing him to take them off. once he does, he's face to face with your dick. he looks at it for a moment, slowly bringing his mouth to it.

ollie began to slowly give your cock little kitten licks, looking up at you with big eyes. he then took it in his mouth completely, swirling his tongue around it. the warmth and wetness was just enough to make you moan, your hand now on the back of his head. "f--fuck, ollie! that's good..~!" you groaned.

ollie took this as an opportunity to try something else, sucking lightly around your cock. this got a good reaction. you cocked your head back, crying out curses as you gripped the hair on the back of his head, a feeling that he didn't mind.

he kept sucking, and you looked down. he was looking up at you with big, blue doe-y eye's. he looked so beautiful with his lips around your cock. so beautiful as he slowly moved his head in a back and forth type of way.

he then pulled away, kissing your cock softly and beginning to lick. much bigger licks than before, wet and messy. he got spit everywhere, but he didn't care. he took you back into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around again.

ollie kept on with the same movements for a little while, turning you into an absolute mess. you couldn't keep quiet even if you wished to. with every motion of his tongue, you whined, unable to contain how good he made you feel. you felt deep waves of pleasure within your body, a knot tying in your belly.

soon enough, your body felt like it was erupting. you came, your cock convulsing in ollie's mouth. you could barely breath as you moaned from how good it felt. "ohhh, god!! it's so fuckin' good ollie, pleaaasseeee!!~" you whined, sweat rolling down your neck from the pleasure that ollie brought you, he simply smiled, looking up at you.

#this is AWFUL #not enough smut me thinks #i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #rory culkin smut #ollie sway #the song of sway lake #ftm #ftm nsft #transmasc #mlm

[k4g3hika]

Hi! I really liked your writting style and since your requests are open, I wanted to send an ask! 💕

Please, feel totally free to ignore this, but if you like the idea, how would you feel about writing about a reader who dresses totally girly and cute, in pink or whatever, but is like, suuper into rock? Like Eddie thinks that she is cute but when he actually gets to meet her, he is just smitten? Maybe they meet because they have a project they need to work on together for some class?

Idk it just seems really cute in my head but maybe I'm just projecting about being mutually in love with a metal head lmao sorry

YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME ━ imagine!

eddie munson x fem! reader

summary: eddie felt like a freak in his history class and when the teacher brings up a group project, he just wanted to bury himself deep into the ground. however, a surprise awaits him when he's partnered up with the preppiest prep in the class and he couldn't be more happier.

genre: fluff

wc: 803

note: thank you sm for this request! this is my first request and i'm so happy that you sent me this. this idea is so cute. also don't be sorry about liking eddie, literally i write and read for him everyday. it's a problem.

‘Fuck me.’ Eddie drags his hands over his face after Mr. Fraser’s announcement of a group project. Literally anything, could’ve been better than this. He knew that nobody in the class was willing to work with him, and it was even worse when the partners were chosen by the teacher. To see the look of anguish on his announced partner’s face hurt him a tiny bit. Eddie’s only human, what else is there to expect?

“Mr. Munson, you’ll be working with Y/N. I hope that with this partner, you’ll finally get above a C.” The class snickers, causing Eddie to roll his eyes. But at the realization of his chosen partner…he almost shit his pants. 

‘Y/N? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’ The only girl he’s ever looked at this entire class and the universe just decides to pair them up for a History class project?! Seriously? 

Eddie didn’t know whether or not the higher power up there favoured him, or simply detested him. 

“Okay class! Partner up!” The screeches of chairs and tables rang throughout the classroom, but Eddie seemed too captured in his thoughts to even think about getting up. Eddie was seriously going to either throw up or shit himself, because he was just so nervous about not being farther than six feet away from you. What was worse however, was that he was scared of your reaction at Mr. Fraser’s announcement. 

‘Were you annoyed? You probably don’t like him, you’re a part of that crowd that basically shit on me for the entirety of my six-year high school career.’ In time to disrupt his over-thinking, he heard the pull of a chair in front of him, prompting him to quickly raise his head and drop it back down. 

“Hi…um, I’m Y/N! I don’t have much ideas yet for this project but I hope we can come up with some together.” Eddie simply didn’t respond, only looking down at your crisp, white Reeboks. Your style was drastically different from his, making him feeling more insecure at the contrast of your outfits. While he was sporting his regular denim jacket, black jeans and combat boots, you were wearing the preppiest outfit a prep can wear. 

‘Reeboks, pink skirt and a white shirt. Jesus.’

“Hey, Eddie. I’m sorry to interrupt anything but we really need to work on this project.” His attention went back to your concerned eyes and he shrugs his shoulders. 

“O-Okay.” Fuck, why did he stutter. Recognizing his discomfort, you attempt to give him a comforting smile while pulling out your binder and notebooks out of your bag.

‘Shit, you’re so cute.’ Anyone would’ve thought that you were a try hard with all your prissy pens and highlighters, but he found it so unbearably cute that he wanted to just collapse in his seat. 

“Oh no, I forgot my textbook. Hey I’m just gonna walk over to my desk to get it-” As you were getting up however, you tripped from your bag that laid astray beside you. Eddie quickly got up to hold onto your arms and you thankfully didn’t fall down onto the ground. However, the same couldn’t be said about the stuff in your bag. 

Absolutely everything in your bag was all over the ground, and by everything, it was everything from your flashcards to your Black Sabbath cassette tapes. 

‘Pause.’ 

Getting a better look at the cassette, Eddie bent down to pick it up. His eyes widened. 

“Please give it back-”

“You listen to Black Sabbath?” Your eyes flash to his, attempting to grab the cassette tape from his grip, but failed to do so. A smile slowly grows on his face. But it wasn’t condescending, not at all, it was more soft. 

“Listen Eddie, please just give it back.” At your plead, Eddie gives you back the tape, seeing you push it back into your bag with the rest of your Metallica, Black Sabbath and AC/DC ones. As you walk away however, he couldn’t stop looking at your retreating figure and your cute pink bag. 

Finally finding your textbook, you walk back to him and sit with a huff in front of him. 

“Please don’t tell anyone Eddie.” You lean in, giving him a view he possibly will never forget. Your eyes look so cute pleading for him, and your lips were pursed from your begging. He just wanted to squish your cheeks together. “Please…”

‘Jesus H Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.’

He leans in with his arms crossed, giving you a smile that you possibly will never forget. With his eyes continuously flashing to your lips, if the both of you push forward anymore, there wouldn’t be any space between you both. We all knew what that meant. 

“You’re secret is safe with me sweetheart.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn #stranger things 4 #netflix #dustin henderson #stranger things s4 #eddie the freak munson

[mactavishwritings]

would you be comfy writing soap x trans masculine reader?

maybe cough cough house husband reader, touchy/cuddly soap coming home on leave and hugging reader up close when he surprises them by coming home early.

I can try my best!

It was a quiet afternoon. You had just gotten home from a long day at work and wanted nothing more than to sit on the couch and relax. The drive home was terrible, traffic backed at lease 3 miles long and it took an extra 30 minutes for you to get home. You unlocked the door to your shared home with your husband, Johnny. You set your keys down and groaned stretching until your ribs popped against the tight contrast of your binder.

You heard the sounds of your 3-year old German Sheppard, Bunny, scurrying down the hallway in your direction. You smiled as you knelt down to pet the dog, already starting to feel the stress of the day melt away. You hummed softly as you stood back up. All you wanted to change into sweatpants when you heard a noise in the kitchen. Your husband wasn't expected home for another week so your heart started racing. You immediately grabbed your phone and rang Johnny.

You stopped in your tracks when a phone in the kitchen started ringing and a smile broke out on your face. "Johnny?" you called out and started speed walking to the source of the noise. Rounding the corner, you saw your husband standing in the middle of a mess of what looked to be a failed dinner. "Hi bug." his arms opened and you raced forward.

"When did you get in?!" your arms wrapped tightly around the man and his hands ran up and down your back, kiss the top of your hair. "Only this morning. You had only been gone for an hour, I think. I wanted to surprise you so I cleaned the house, got groceries, and was gonna make a nice dinner but you see how that turned out." he chuckled to himself and you shook your head. "I don't care about the dinner. Just want you." you mumbled and Johnny smiled. "How about I order some food and run us a bath? Want you out of your binder. How long have you been wearing it today?" Johnny pulled at the bottom edge of your binder and you shook your head.

Johnny nodded before pulling to towards the upstairs bathroom and started the bath for the two of you. He gently lifted your shirt up and rubbed your sore ribs. "My baby... " he kissed your cheeks and got you settled in the bath, stripping you of your clothes before ordering the two of you dinner. He stripped himself and slipped in behind you. You rested your back his against his chest, feeling yourself finally relax.

Finally you were at peace, your husband home and safe.

#ask #winter speaks #soap x reader #soap #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap fluff #cod soap #soap mw2 #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john 'soap' mactavish

[firstdivisiongirl]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day. I'm supposed to be doing homework, but I got distracted by the booping thing and now I'm here.

If you have the time, I'd like to request a romantic matchup with a Tokyo Revengers character. I'm nonbinary - they/them pronouns - and pansexual (I apologize if this creates too big of a pool for characters). I can't say that I have a type either. Whether it be someone who's soft and kind or confident and strong headed, I'm weak for them. What can I say, I love a little bit of everyone. I'm an INFP-T who is often drowning in overdue homework only to pull a few all-nighters back to back to catch up, and cry even though I put myself in that position (my sleep schedule is in shambles). My parents are protective of me because I'm the youngest of the children by a decade and not very strong. I'm an even 5'. Paired with shitty eyesight and small frame, I'm not menacing at all. It also doesn't help that I greet everyone with a smile, even when faced with snarky comments or someone I'm greatly upset with. Of course, this doesn't mean I won't get angry later and rant for a good hour or so through tears. For some reason, no matter how calm I am on the inside, I start crying when crying to express myself in serious situations. (if anyone has an idea on how to stop this, please help)

Since I'm nonbinary, I try to lean into a more androgynous look, but my mom still tries to instill a sense of "womanhood" in me (which gives me anxiety and a lot of body dysphoria). It makes me lean away from more feminine colors in clothing, which sucks because I'm a stickler for a cute pastel shirt. That being said, I try not to let that get to me by wearing whatever I want because I also strongly believe that colors and clothes don't relate to gender. I usually wear baggier tops at least because I can't buy a binder yet.

I like listening to people talk about themselves or anything that interests them, as long as they don't mind me rambling about something also. My mom has told me I'd make a really good therapist because I always help her break down her problems and get a different view on things. My sister vents to me frequently because she feels I offer a place of no judgement and she can speak freely.

A lot of my personal joy comes from seeing others happy. In a friend group, I'm often the one trying to include everyone and make people laugh, even if I'm anxious myself. Even though I can get swept up in my emotions, I always stop and think about things in a logical view (which sometimes leads to me taking action before realizing I should've thought it through). I definitely wouldn't do well in the TKR universe in terms of fighting, but I'd probably figure out some way to be helpful because I hate feeling like I'm not contributing anything. I also like to think I have a pretty good pain tolerance, so maybe I could buy time or something.

I've been told I'm very extroverted and outgoing, but I actually have a low social battery and often find myself overwhelmed in social outings with lots of people or loud noises. I almost started crying in downtown Seattle and New York City when I was on vacation (even though I was having fun). This can lead me to shutting down at times and going relatively non-verbal. Overall, I'd describe my personality as laid-back, open-minded, and not confrontational. I try to push my way through my insecurities and short-comings, but things hardly work out the way I want them to.

I like video games and sleeping in, but I'll push my own hobbies aside for people I enjoy hanging out with. I'm not too picky about food, as long as it isn't spicy (i'm a bit of a wimp). I also really enjoy sweets - cakes, pastries, cookies, candies, chocolates. I love them all. I often end up not eating because I either get distracted or I simply don't feel like it. Technically, I'm allergic to dairy and tomatoes and I can get really nauseous or itchy, but my favorite foods often have those ingredients so I act like I'm immune.

Anyways, I apologize for the long description. I hope I followed all your rules and gave you everything you need. Please take your time, I am in no rush and I know life is always busy. I hope you have a good day!

Hello. The wait it finally over. Sorry it took so long. Things got crazy. Let's just jump right into it!

You Got...

Souya Kawata!!!!

He is really good with people and very patient. If you got overwhelmed and needed time, he would be there for you anyway he can.

He would make you the best foo. Anything you want, he will make!

He is a good listener. Will listen to you for hours

Would tell you everyday that you are amazing and that he loves for you!

He would protect you. You being safe is the most important thing to him!

He would help you get anything done that you need. He would keep you on track.

He would like that you are laid back. He already has Smiley, so someone in his life who is chill would be nice.

Video game dates. He would play a mean Mario Kart. I think he would pick Yoshi!

I hope you enjoy

#first division girl #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers matchups #tokyo revengers matchup #tr matchups #tr matchup #tokyo rev matchup

[somedayonbroadway]

can you write more for trans race???

Of course I can! And once again, as I am not trans if there’s anything I’m doing to misrepresent an experience like this, please let me know, I would love to learn! Thank you

You can find part 1 here!

Race was standing in front of the mirror. He was wearing a sports bra and ace bandages. His hair was short now. It wasn’t perfect but without the salons open, Jack and Medda did the best they could. Race loved it. But sometimes, all he could do was cry when he looked in the mirror. He wanted his chest to be flatter and his chin to be sharper and his biceps to be bigger. He wanted to look like Jack, he wanted to just wake up everyday and go around being a boy, not a boy trapped in a girl's body.

He’d been staring for a long time. Medda had promised him that it would get better. He was talking to a doctor on Zoom about knowing exactly what would be best for him but everything seemed so far out of reach at the moment with all the hospitals on lockdown and Race didn’t want to be upset, he didn’t want to have another breakdown, not while Jack’s younger sister was quarantined in her room with Covid and they might have to take her for the hospital for a real illness.

Race whimpered when the bandage slipped out of his hand again. He grumbled, grabbing one of Jack’s shirts and throwing it over his head as he tried not to scream.

The door opened at that noise. “I can hear you grumbling from across the hall.” Jack leaned in the doorway. He sighed when he saw Race’s head in his arms. “Hey… Racer, kid—“

“Go away, Jack,” Race whimpered. He groaned when he heard his voice, so high pitched and feminine. He grumbled again.

The older boy hesitated but walked further into the room, laying down beside Race. “Smalls is awake,” Jack sighed. “She’s doin’ okay… askin’ how you are. She misses playin’ Mario Kart with you.” The blond boy just buried his face more. “Race, come on. I ain’t gonna just leave you alone. You’re my brother, it’s my job to annoy and look after you. So I’ll just lay here until you talk or we don’t gotta talk or we can eat dinner, or —“

“I sound like a girl,” Race muttered. He felt Jack turn to him, put a hand on his back reassuringly. “I look like a girl and I sound like a girl and I can’t fix it!” It was so hard. He just didn’t know how to feel better.

Jack sat up. “Okay,” he breathed. “There’s ways around that. It’ll take time though.”

“I j-jus’ wanna be a boy,” Race whimpered.

“You are a boy,” Jack said. “Come on, we can look at getting you… a binder or talk ta Medda and your therapist about putting you on T, maybe?”

The younger boy peaked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… but for now, I can get you a sweatshirt and we can play zombie games while Smalls is resting,” Jack insisted.

Race sniffled. “Why am I like this?” he asked. “Papa says God made me like He wanted to. So why do I wanna change?”

“Because God ain’t for everybody,” Jack shrugged. “I don’t believe in God, but… i-if you do, then maybe we can figure out what God actually said together.”

The younger boy sighed. He looked up at Jack. “I’d rather kill some zombies…” he muttered. And Jack laughed, grabbing his brother and taking him downstairs where they laughed and played on the couch.

And everything was fine for the moment. And that was alright.

#anonymous #anon #anon ask #newsies #newsies live #newsies musical #modern newsies #modern era #modern au #covid19 #covid mention #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #smalls newsies #medda larkin #much love #trans man #trans race #trans #newsies fanfiction #brothers

[prettycottagequeer]

just a little vent because I'm frustrated

so I got my first binder maybe a moth ago and it was perfect I love it so much and I'm very happy with it, but... it's made my dysphoria worse?? I mean in general my dysphoria fluctuates and it'll go through times of being better or worse, but I've been having a lot of trouble with it lately. I don't think it's ever been so bad that I can't look in the mirror, but I was just trying to get ready for bed and i had to stop myself so I wouldn't start spiraling.

with the weather starting to warm up I'm starting to want to wear mesh shirts and open button ups and low cut things but they just don't work with a binder. and there's no way I'd feel good not wearing it, at least most days. I mean button ups kind of work but it's not the same. I know I just have to wait until I can afford top surgery but it feels so far away...

and another side effect is that my back Always hurts now. I knew it wouldn't be comfortable but I also wasn't expecting it to be this bad. I feel like my back and shoulders are never comfortable anymore.

and with all of that I still don't really look the way I want to. it's still wrong. it's so frustrating!! I can't even get on t yet! I can't for at least another 3 months and that's if I can get the money and if I can convince myself it's safe (it's not right now, because of family things). I feel so stuck and helpless. that feeling was supposed to be over a year ago!!! once I was legally an adult!!!!! but no, my state has fucked up laws and I still have to depend on my parents and the economy is fucked. sigh.

but at least the feelings are validation in some weird way

[my-wayward-son]

Trans truths # 7

Reasons why your fan will become your BFF

We’re talking about an electric plug-in tower fan. Not a ceiling fan. Not that slick silky open-and-shut thing you got as Pride swag and now only comes out when you need a dramatic moment of Mulan. I’m talking about the long tall skinny thing that blows air at you because you’re not in charge of the climate control. You know? One of those. If you’re in the US, you can get one at Walmart or Target for under $40.

Ok, sweet, now I’ll tell you why.

It makes the air cooler. The first sign that your T is working its way through your veins is the feeling of being overheated.

It dries moisture. You will probably sweat. Maybe a lot. Definitely more than you’d used to. When you have those moments of ‘I just got dressed why are my pores letting tear tracks down my back’, you can lift your shirt, stand in front of the fan, and feel Moses parting the waters and making a cool, dry pass between your shoulder blades.

It’s portable (kinda). Depending on your living situation, you may disagree with another person on the proper temperature of a shared space. Unplug and take your fan somewhere else. If you’re living by yourself in a place with multiple rooms (I had a one-bedroom apartment that had doors/walls separating bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room.), you don’t need to buy another fan to put in another room. Just take yours with you and plug it in a different outlet. It’s also a great thing to have in your kitchen while cooking with the stove or oven.

It’s really loud. You won’t hear your roommates bickering. You won’t hear your neighbor’s excessive death metal. You have a great excuse for not coming when called (sorry, couldn’t hear you over the fan). It’s great at night. Or, you know whenever. Covers the sound of …smaller excessively loud electronic items. With its excessively excessive fan power.

It has buttons. Sometimes you get a remote, too. (It probably came with a manual that you probably threw away with the box because creating space for new object is more important than more important than ensuring the object actually works and you don’t have to take it back to the store. Right?) You get to be the chief engineer and in control of all the settings all the time because this thing is yours. Your fan. Nobody else’s. And by royal decree, oscillate at power 3, max force, with ions, to perfectly accommodate my spot on the couch, dammit!

It helps you sleep. If you have an app for soothing sounds, unsubscribe and save a dollar (or a spam file). Your fan makes wonderful white noise whilst keeping your room at the perfect sleeping temperature. It’s nice to have chilly air and warm linens, right? Lessen the possibility of sweaty sheets with a nice, blaring beee.

It does your laundry. If you have items of clothing that are hand-wash only, cut the drying time and string them up in front of your fan. Binders that are mesh or stretchy spanx material do not like to go into the big laundry with your jeans and shirts. They will wear out faster and sometimes fall apart when they go through a commercial wash-and-dry cycle. It’s also great if you want privacy from the family laundry load, or if you need your stuff to be your business only. Clotheslines and air drying aren’t just history. They’re good methods today, too.

#laur talks #trans issues #why uou need a fan #ftm #trans tips #trans truths #air conditioning #fan #like the object #not the prefix for fiction #lgbt #queer

[zeawesomebirdie]

I can now understand why binders are a pain in the ass to wear during the summer

#i cant remember the last time i sweat this much?? #but also #hot boy summer y'qll #i mean #kinda #anyway its like 90° and im not vibing but i cant swim cause i havent had top yet #also id rather be writing than anything else rn #i might buy some tank tops tbh bc if i have to go all summer in my button downs im gonna cry #maybe i can get away with wearing my shirts open if i have my binder on??? #my mom might not allow that lol #but also today like the top bit of my binder is showing and no ones said anything #if i wear the stripey one its a fashion choice

[ftmbitch]

okok ok ur writing is really hot, uhhh so if ur up for posting more my prompt is: being slowly forced to detransition by my trans roommate during lockdown

i love me some t4t forced detrans so you’ve asked the right guy haha 

warnings: forced detransition, dubcon 

1.4k words (sorry, my hand slipped) 

you met your roommate through some friends. a lot of them are gay, or trans. you didn’t actually know your roommate was trans at first, he passed so well. actually, you thought he was the one cishet in the group, since you knew he was only into girls, and you figured he was cis. eventually, you were looking for a place, he was looking for a place, and you ended up living together. separate bedrooms, but only one bathroom. you didn’t find out he was trans until you went into the bathroom after he had unpacked his toiletries and you saw his testosterone stuff on the shelf. you hadn’t started hormones yet, but you still recognized that stuff from your other trans friends. you asked him about it, and he was kind of surprised. “oh. yeah, i thought you knew i was trans. i mean, i came out like eight years ago, so i guess i just don’t think about it much anymore.” you were a little surprised, but it didn’t really change anything. it did make you a little more dysphoric, though. you had other trans friends close in their transition to you, and some who’d been out for years, but living in close proximity with a guy who passed so well, and had hormones and top surgery like you dreamed of, it just made you feel a little sad. you were happy for him, but you were jealous. you knew he was just living his life, and that one day you’d be just like him. 

or, so you thought. 

within your first few months of living together, you felt a little put down by him. he’d make these passing comments about your voice, your soft, hairless face, the fact that you didn’t have to shower as much as him because girls- i mean, you know, dudes who aren’t on t, don’t sweat as much. in quarantine, you couldn’t get away from it. you couldn’t go see your other pre-t friends. you just had to stay here, with him. his comments made you a little uncomfortable, but not enough to say anything. he wasn’t trying to be mean, he was just at such a different point than you were and wasn’t quite as sensitive to the pre-t struggle as he once was. that’s all, right? that’s all, you told yourself. 

one day, you walk into the kitchen to grab a snack without your binder on while he’s in there cooking. when you turn around from the cabinet, you catch him staring, mouth slightly open, at your chest. 

“sorry! sorry. i just...sorry. i didn’t mean to.” you brush it off. you sit down to watch tv, and you figure he’ll just keep cooking. then, he comes and sits next to you. “hey,” he says. “i really am sorry.” he’s sitting awfully close. “it’s just...” he takes your snack and moves it to the table. you cower back a little bit, and he gets closer. “it’s hard, you know? being in quarantine. i haven’t fucked a girl in so long. i mean, i know you’re not a girl! and i’m not trying to fuck you, it’s just...” your face drops. he licks his lips, and reaches out, and gropes you. 

“what the fuck?” you shout, pushing him back, and getting up. you walk out, but as you’re walking away, you catch a glimpse of him. he’s staring. 

you avoid him as best you can for the next two days. then, he comes into your room while you’re masturbating. “dude, get out!” 

“i just wanted to talk about...um...wow. you shave down there?” you swallow hard. for some reason, you don’t cover up. “that would make me so dysphoric. why do you do that? don’t you want to look as masculine as you can?” you don’t say anything. “i mean, listen. i know you’re not on t, and i get that, it’s a pain in the ass to get referrals and shit, especially with all the regulations right now. i just- i don’t know. it’s hard for me to respect trans guys like you. i mean, you shave your pussy, you don’t ever wear your binder in the house, and don’t think i haven’t seen your skirts in your hamper. like, why even transition if you’re gonna do girly shit?” you have nothing to say. you want to argue. everything inside you is telling you to argue, to tell him to leave, to cry, to call someone for comfort. but you don’t. 

“you grabbed me the other day,” you say. he doesn’t say anything. “i thought you were straight.” 

“i am straight. and i think you’re really hot, okay? i know i’m supposed to see you as a dude, and i try, but when you’re all...you know, like this...i mean, your tits are so nice! i kinda like it when you don’t wear your binder. it makes me horny. but, it makes it hard to see you as a dude. like, either wear your binder or i’m gonna wanna fuck you.” 

you talk a little more, and he leaves. that sticks with you. either wear your binder, or he’s gonna wanna fuck you. you’re gay. gay, right, when a trans guy likes guys. you’ve been stuck in the apartment for the past two months with this guy, and stuck in your old place for months before that. maybe some sex would do you good. but you have to pretend to be a girl? 

you don’t wear your binder after your talk with your roommate. in fact, you come out wearing a thin t-shirt in place of your normal “dysphoria hoodie” and one of those skirts he mentioned, that you only have because sometimes you need to think about gender, and visuals help. no underwear. your roommate sees you sitting on the couch, and he sits next to you. you don’t move. 

“hey. you look pretty like that.” you don’t say anything, but it feels so good to be called pretty again. all your friends call you handsome. you like that because it makes you feel masculine, but it feels fake. it feels like they’re forcing it out. this...this felt real. he really, truly thinks you’re pretty. 

he kisses you. he gropes you. he puts his hand under your skirt. you let him. you like it. 

“what’s your real name?” he whispers in your ear. 

“please,” you whisper. “please, you can touch me, but please don’t call me by my deadname. i hate it so much, i-” 

“what’s your real name?” he demands. you’re so wet. you tell him. he repeats it. he says it a few times. “yeah,” he says. “yeah, that’s what i’m calling you from now on. that’s who lives here now, okay? she’s my new roommate. and she’s so pretty...” 

things escalate. you end up in his bedroom. after you have sex, you want to call your friends and tell them what just happened. tell them you had sex with your roommate, and he was deadnaming you the whole time, and he was misgendering you. but you don’t call them. 

he keeps doing it. you never hear your boy name out of his mouth again after that. you get used to it. you like it. he makes you feel pretty, and wanted, and he’s so different from you that you feel silly for ever trying to be like him. you know if you were around your other pre-t friends you might feel differently. but you’re not. you can’t be. you’re stuck here, with him, with this masculine, bearded, flat chested, huge t-dicked man, who calls you pretty. 

this goes on for weeks. weeks turn into months. soon enough, he’s helped you buy a whole new wardrobe to wear around the house. in the house turns into online. he has you change all of your social media to your real name, and all your pronouns to she/her. he takes your phone after that, so you don’t have to talk to any concerned relatives or friends who might try to talk some “sense” into you. he likes you when you’re a girl. you fucks you when you’re a girl, and you’ve needed that since quarantine. if being a girl can make somebody make you this happy, then it must be right. 

#my post #my writing #fantasy #detransition #dubcon

[cazimagines]

Let me treat you (ZemoxTransReader) (Ftm)

Request from Anon: Zemo x Reader where they start to fall in love, but the reader gets hurt super badly in the stomach and Zemo has to like examine the wound. The reader keeps pushing them away bc they’re trans (ftm) and wear a blinder and they’re afraid that Zemo won’t like them anymore

Word count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of guns and blood, slight angst, mainly hurt and comfort

Please don't upload this anywhere else

This is being cross posted on my ao3 account under the same name

Authors note: I hope this lives up to your expectations. I’m happy to get requests for one shots as people have such unique ideas like this.

Your back pressed against the wall as you glanced around the corner, waiting for the right moment to shoot. You could see down the road the figure of three men with guns pulled around ready to shoot if you ran past. You had to get them by surprise. Sam, Bucky and Zemo had all split up from you so you were on your own as you tried to work yourself back to them. You clutched the gun in your hands as you counted the moments down.

3...

2...

1...

Your legs moved quickly as you ran across holding the gun and pressing the trigger randomly. Your eyes were focused on the hiding spot ahead. Without stopping to see if you had hit them or not, you disappeared down the next road. Feeling your heart beat heavily against your chest you slowed down, gasping for breath. Your chest hurt from needing to breathe and your binder clung tightly to you, making you gasp for more air. Your hand grasped onto the wall beside you, supporting you as you learnt over to recover.

Footstep sounds rang in your ears, coming from behind you. You quickly spun around, aiming your gun at the person behind you. Your eyes were blurred with tears from your lack of breath but as they focused, you lowered your gun realising it was Bucky who was jogging up to you.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Bucky asked, taking in your worn out appearance.

“Yeah, just” you pant, stopping every few words to breathe, “Catching my breath, that’s all”

Bucky puts his hand on your arm gently pulling you down the road, “Sam and Zemo are ahead of us with the rest of the enemies. They need all the help they can get”

You nod, picking up speed at the thought of Zemo defending off everyone. You weren’t with the Avengers when the civil war had happened, so all you knew about Zemo was from what everyone had told you about. Specifically Bucky, who hated Zemo and with good reason. You pictured him as a man who was psychopathic, with an icy glare and fierce eyes, yet all the time you have spent with him was completely different. Dare you say it he was kind, funny, thoughtful. He gave everyone food, clothes, a place to stay. Yes, it was for his own advantage as well, but you couldn’t help but feel part of it was because he wanted you all to be okay. You enjoyed conversations with him as well, you always had a fondness for learning languages. Zemo indulged your interests. In the spare time you had together, he had taught you Sokovian his mother language. You were picking it up quickly, much to his surprise and Bucky & Sam’s annoyance when you two have your own conversation, which they can’t understand. At the safe home you were staying at, it had a massive library. One night you had asked Zemo to read you a book. Sitting opposite him on an armchair, you closed your eyes as you listened to his sweet Sokovian voice slowly lull you to sleep. The next day you had awoken somehow on the sofa with his coat draped around you. You had been too embarrassed to bring up that evening with him, and it seemed the same way for Zemo who hadn’t mentioned it again after.

You and Bucky jogged around a corner to see Sam and Zemo hiding behind a wall. As you caught up with them, their eyes flicked to you and Bucky. Zemo turns to you and briefly nods. His hair was slightly messy, stands fell over his forehead not in their usual position pulled back by hair gel. His chest heaved slightly as well, and his hand clutched the gun harshly. “Five men, ahead” he mutters

“Nice of you to join us” Sam says sarcastically, his mouth tugging up in a slight smile as he looked at you and Bucky.

Bucky shot him a dirty look while you focused on the five men ahead. They knew Zemo and Sam were there, but they didn’t know about you and Bucky, meaning you could take them by surprise. Bucky counted, making you all ready for the attack. You could feel a sweat bead drip down your forehead in anticipation.

“GO” Bucky shouts as you grab onto the top of the wall, pulling your body over and starting shooting instantaneously.

But then you felt something hit you. On your right side, just under your chest.

A yelp of surprise tore out of your throat, which quickly turned into pain as your body tensed up from the shock. The pain felt immense and spread throughout your body quickly. Your nerves feeling as if they had been lit on fire. Your legs gave out, and you watched as you slowly tumbled down onto the ground, but before you could reach the floor, you felt a body push into the side of you. It pushed you down and covered your exposed side with itself. The smell of cologne overwhelmed you, and you could feel his champaign stained breath on your face. His fur part of his coat tickled your face slightly. Zemo placed his arm beside your face to prop him up just above you as he used his other arm to shoot at the opposition.

With Bucky, Zemo and Sam all shooting at them, all the enemies eventually ran away. Zemo’s head turned to focus on you. His eyes were glazed with worry and his eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the blood that was leaking through your shirt. If it was any other time, you would have been blushing like mad. But you were trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes because of the pain. You bit your bottom lip, slightly drawing blood as you stopped yourself from crying out.

“We need to get him back to the house,” Zemo tells Bucky and Sam urgently. He wraps his arm around your back, pulling you up onto your feet. He and Bucky have you wrap your arms around their shoulders and support you as they quickly rush you home. His hand presses on the wound to hold the blood in. You tried to stop him from staining his glove with your blood, but he refuses to listen.

Thankfully, the house wasn’t too far away from where you had been fighting, so you arrived there in no time. They carried you in and laid you on the sofa just inside the door.

“I need you two to rush to the shop and grab some bandages and antiseptic wipes. We don’t have any here” Zemo orders Sam and Bucky. They eyed each other, shocked at Zemo taking innovative for once but they don’t argue back and head towards the door. Bucky glances back as he reaches the door and you nod to him, letting him know you were okay with being left with Zemo. Zemo notices the exchange but just bites his tongue, choosing not to comment on it.

“I need you to take your shirt off,” Zemo says, refusing to meet your eyes as he tugs his gloves off. Your eyes widen and you shake your head at him.

“No, I- I can’t,”

Zemo glances back to you frowning, “What? I need to check the wound y/n and put a bandage on it”

“I-I can do it, or maybe Bucky can,” you say, looking away from Zemo.

You hadn’t told Zemo you were trans. Bucky and Sam knew. They had known you for a long time, but you never really told Zemo and the thought of telling him scared you silly. You didn’t know how he would react. You liked him; you liked him a lot though you shouldn’t, and you didn’t want to ruin it by telling him and him reacting badly.

Zemo’s face hardened as he heard your words, and his eyes dropped from yours. “You don’t trust me” he states

“No Zemo that’s not-” you try to say but Zemo cuts you off,

“No, it’s okay Y/n, I understand. I’m not a good guy, we all know this. Why would you even give me a sliver of your trust? I don’t deserve it.”

“Zemo…”

“I was a fool to think of you any differently”

You tried to sit up to move towards him but you felt a shock wave of pain as you moved your wound making you cry out and collapse back into the sofa. Zemo was instantly by your side, kneeling down, his eyes full of worry. He grabs a hold of your hand and clenches it tightly to help with the pain.

“Don’t move. At least do that for me y/n”

The doors slam open with Sam and Bucky rushing in, “They’ve followed us here. Me and Bucky will keep them away while you treat his wound” Sam says pushing the medical equipment into Zemo’s hands.

“Wait-” Zemo tried to say, letting go of your hand to grab one of them but they had already left the building again.

He glances down at the stuff in his hands, then back up to you.

“Seems like you have little of a choice”

“I can attend to my wound”

Zemo’s jaw tenses and his eyes flash with anger as he looks at you, “Do you really hate me that much?”

“No, that’s not it, Zemo,” you exclaim

“Then why! Why are you so determined to refuse my help y/n,” Zemo says raising his voice

You look away from him in shame, and he stands up, groaning. He brushes his hands through his hair angrily as he paces around. He split off his coat and chucked it angrily onto the chair beside you, making you flinch slightly. You watched him walk around, though you are upset and in pain you couldn’t help focus on how good Zemo looked in that purple turtleneck.

“I like you y/n” he finally says, turning to look at you. Your throat runs dry and your eyes widen in surprise as those words slip out of his mouth and nestle deep in your heart.

“You are intelligent, funny, handsome. Everything you do I adore. Who you are, I adore. And I never thought that I would love someone after my wife, especially a guy. I’ve never felt this way about a guy before and it scares me, but I love you y/n. And I know you don’t like me back but please let me treat your wound, you are bleeding out and I don’t want to see you in pain”

You were left speechless at Zemo’s confession. Your heart swelled and beat rapidly against your chest, but your throat was dry like the Sahara Desert. With the more time gap between where you say anything, Zemo stares to get palier thinking he has fucked up.

“Zemo...you idiot, of course I like you!” you finally exclaim

He moves his mouth wordlessly, looking intently in your eyes as if trying to see if you were lying, but slowly the realisation breaks over him. His mouth turns up in a smile, but then something crosses his eyes and he frowns at you again.

“But then why don’t you want me to help you?”

You take in a deep breath and finally tell him, “Take my shirt off”

He cautiously walks up to, unsure of what to make of the situation. You feel his fingers gently brush against your skin, making you shudder. He slowly lifts the shirt off, careful to make sure it doesn't stick to the wound. As he lifts it off, your binder becomes plain to see.

His mouth opens slightly as he takes it in, then gazes at you in the eyes.

“Oh y/n, I don’t care about that. I like you for who you are”

“Really?” you question still worried.

His lips turn up into a slight smile as he looks down on you, he reaches forward gently brushing his hand against your face. You lean into it, closing your eyes slightly as you enjoy the contact.

“Really”

You grin happily at him, making him smile back as he sees how happy you are. He gathers the bandages and wipes and attends to your wound as you relax, enjoying the feeling of the man you love and loves you back, treats you.

Taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 @ineffablebean @freyjasamael @avgravy @jayxkelsi (Not sure why it won't let me tag you) @huntheimpossible @checkurwindow @there-goes-thefighter @bunniwritesx @montypythonsholysnail

#zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo #zemo x y/n #zemo imagine #zemo x you #tfatws #daniel brühl #marvel #mcu #helmut zemo #i love zemo

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Two Guys equal Baby?

@phoenixofthevalley here you go!

Paring: Billy(William) Butcher x FtM!Trans!Reader (he/him/they/them)

Warning?: Smut,P in V,Pegging,Breeding(if the title wasn't hint enough),I don't have the best logic on Transition between genders so I wanted to keep it vague. No proof reading

M/n has been taking testosterone and wearing a binder since high school so by the time he graduated he fault comfortable in his skin like never before even if he never wanted to get the surgery done to get the...plumbing corrected. Getting into college he met a batshit crazy man trying to kill supes. Billy fucking Butcher never thought he'd fall from a man,but after a few dates with M/n he was told,he was born a she and did he care? Not one fucking bit.

I mean come on a hot body with a cunt and a silicone cock the best of both worlds. That night was filled with the most mind blowing sex either of them had especially since they both walked away with a limp. Why the fuck are you limping did you get shot again? Shut up you cunt!

It's been five years since they became official and thoughts ran through the h/c mans head was it selfish to want to get pregnant after haven't identified as a women since middle school. It's been eating him alive...he should ask his fiancé today if he would even be okay with that. M/n came out of the bathroom towel around his waist staring at the love of his life in bed who so happened to be naked under the covers thoughts of last night flashed through his mind. Shaking his head he walked off to the kichen and started cooking breakfast.

M/n POV

Flipping the omelet I felt hands grab my hips as a warm breath fanned my neck. The scent of whiskey and the faint metallic smell of blood that never seemed to wash of filled my scenes. "Morning handsome. " He layed his forehead on my shoulder as he let out grown that maybe my heart pick up thanking the bearded fuck in the sky I didn't need to adjust my boxers. "Morning sexy." I turn to his the side of his head,but he turned and captured my lips in a kiss. It would have lasted a lifetime if I didn't pull away to take the omelet of the heat onto a plate. "Sit down you horn dog we don't have time for a round six this early." Billy chuckled sitting at the marble kitchen island not before grabbing a handful of my ass. "What's on the agenda today,love?" He asked as I sat a plate infront of him as I took my play next to him. "Got a couple jobs I need to run around the city." By jobs I meant being a doctor for hire while Butch went around fucking up people I came by to fix up those who didn't or couldn't go to a hospital. I've done it all from open heart surgery in a back alley to bringing a child into the world in someone's living room. That's kind of part of the reason I've been thinking of starting a family that God damn baby fever. "Well I'm going to see about this compound V shit and stop the cunts at the source." It's been a couple of months since I told him about a blue drug that made supes powers dial to a hundred after seeing some on the streets.

I nod my head as I started over thinking. Our lives are too dangerous for a baby right now we can't even get married yet because we can't afford to go a couple states over to get the shit done. Looking at my fiancé I opened my mouth to speak,but the ring from his phone cut me off he answered and the familiar accent of Frenchie was heard saying something about the mission and that shit before Billy hung up. "Gotta go,love. See you afterwards might need to patch the boys up." He kissed my cheek as he went back to the room to get dressed and he quickly left the house. I'm asking him tonight no more stalling,but maybe I need some encouragement. "Hello?" I grin slightly. "Hey can we meet west end on fourth boulevard?" I asked as I went to the room pulling on pants holding the phone on my shoulder. "Y-yeah MM and Butch just left.Be there in thirty." I hum a alright as I hung up slipping a shirt on and my leather jacket. Oh please baby brother have good advice.

The coffee shop was quite as I walked in I saw Hugie in a booth in a corner. "So what's so urgent,M/n?" He asked concern nursing his coffee. Grabbing two napkins off the table I cover my mug with one. "I want to have a baby." Cue the creamed sugered liquid shooting out his nose and going down the wrong pipe taking the other napkins i hand it to him for his leaking nose and patted his back as he hunched over coughing. "A baby with you and Billy?! C-can you even still have kids? I mean you haven't gotten a period in years." He made a good point,but that's what the internet is for. Opening my phone I pull it up. "Yep still can have kids." I scroll through the article before closing it. "So have you asked him?" I looked at him like he's stupid. "No dumbass why do you think I called you?! Should I ask? I mean I'm a guy now maybe he thought he can get off with not having kids,but still having a pussy to fuck." I said to him someone walked by mumbling under their breath as they looked at me with disgust. "The fuck you looking at lazy eye,snaggled tooth,x y chromosome having bitch?" I raised a brow snarling as she quickly walked away from my glare. "Just tell him,n/n. He'll understand better then anyone he is your other half after all." Hugh gave a small smile. "God you're so sappy now go and ask out that Starlight chick,baby brother." He blushed as we got up stumbling over his words about how it wasn't like that.

I was around the city sitting in quite house pulling a bullets out of a teenager. "So what happened kid?" I asked a remove one of the last two. "Dad is a super someone came in our house to rob us and shot at him a dozen times the bullets just went everywhere and into me." She groaned as her dad paced sure the people I considered family hated supes,but not all of them were bad I mean this guy looks like he's about to cry any second. He really loves his daughter his kid. GOD DAMNIT KIDS ON THE BRAIN. "And there all bullet free nothing major was hit so just try not to rip the stitches and here take this put it on after you shower so no bacteria grows." I hand her a cream as I stand up her dad ran up to me handing me a small wad of cash before coddling his daughter. Maybe having a kid ain't that bad someone to come home to,to kill for,to die for a reason to be closer. I need Billy now!

Walking through the front door the scent of fresh blood made me look at the Australian man on the sofa he only had a few cuts,but the rest seemed to come from another outside source. Stepping closer I sit on his lap running my thumb over his cheek. Spit it out already. "I want to have a baby." His eyes snapped up to look into mine. "Fucking what?" He said not sure he heard right. "I want you to fuck a baby into me." I grin as I look down at him it doesn't happen often,but his hair covered cheeks flushed pink. "B-but you're male now it's nope fucking possible...is it?" Was that hope in his tone? "I can get knocked up and I just wanted to bring it up to you wondering if you ever thought about it." I kicked my lips anxiously awaiting his response. "Of course I have I know you still have your original plumbing,but I thought adoption was really our only option. I've always wanted little one's and to know that we can make mini mixes of yiu and me why in the white bearded cunts name would I pass up that opportunity." A flirtatious grin grew on his face as Bill held onto my thighs standing up. "Let's have a few test runs shall we?" I laugh as he walks into the room making me bounce on the bed. "We fucking shall."

==Add a little spice==

Billy crawled on top of me his hands slipping under the hem of my shirt pushing it up as he kisses up my stomach to my chest. I helped pulling my shirt the rest of the way off him following suit. His hands run over my pants the pressure of his hand pushed my strap into my thigh slowly unzipping my fly he goes to pull them down. Lifting my hips allowed them to come off along with my boxers I was in full display Billy stood up putting himself on full display as he got on his knees pulling me to the end of our bed. He smirked looking at me before licking up my folds with a flat firm lick that almost made me crush his head between my thighs. "Jesus christ! Do you want me to suffocate you?!" I gasped as he let a chuckle rumble from his chest shaking me to the core. "Wouldn't be the worse way to go." Before I could response he continued to eat me out as I moaned and groaned.

This fucker has been at it for ten fucking minutes! Lacing my fingers in his dark brown locks I grab at the roots and pull him up. His beard was wet as he liked his lips panting I gave him no time for a snarky remark when I slipped my tounge into his mouth fighting for dominance. It was a battle quickly won when I flipped him over my ass pressed against his stiff cock. Breaking the kiss a string of saliva connected us before breaking. Running my hands down his chest rocking forward his cock sliding in my folds he bucked up which caused me to stop all movement. "Stay still you cunt." I said mocking him as I proceeded to spit in my hand not willing to search the drawer for lube. Clasping my hand around his cock I lubricate it slowly casing him to groan throwing his head back,after a minute I was ready and done fucking waiting. "I suggest breathing now." I said he looked at me for a second about to speak,but having already lined him up I drop down causing him to choke on those forgotten words.

"Holy fucking hell!!! Can a man get a little bit of warning? A should tap?" He gasped, gripping the sheets with white knuckles ,but my smirk was devilish as I moved one hand from his chest for a second while raising my hips up. "Tap tap." Slamming back down i start the brutal fast pace that would get us close I was tired of waiting we always had next round to slow down. I squeezed my silk walls around him his cock twitching with each contraction. The coil tightening in my stomach said I was close,but I needed him to be on the edge with me to be pushed off together. Time to pull out all the stops."Fuck! Billy I'm so fucking close! Please please cum fuck me full I want to be pregnant by the end of the night!!" I moaned my nails clawing at his chest his hands left the sheets and held my hips as he met each bounce with a thrust hitting that sweet spot dead on. "Fuck keep talking,handsome." He groaned leaning forward I got right in Billy's ear. "I want your fucking baby so bad. Fuck my cunt til I'm breed like a proper bitch!"He forced a hard kiss before we both pulled away with a shout cumming togther. "M/N!!!" "WILLIAM!!!"

I laid on him my breath uneven seeming to match his. "That was..." His hand ran up my back. "The most mind blowing sex we had this month." I couldn't help,but chuckle as I looked up at him gazing at him lovingly. "Me pegging you is still top three." His chest shook as he laughed my hands messing with his wild hair. The laughter calmed down he glanced down at me. "So do you think...you know it will happen?" The hope in his eyes made my heart swell. "I don't know. Theres no grante,but maybe a few dozen rounds will help only one way to find out." I said squealing as we flipped me over. "Why of course." Round two in affect.

The night was filled with sex,laughter,sweat,and jokes. It was pretty clear that it didn't take a genius to know that two guys can equal a baby. Just need to test the theory fully and often.

=========

A/n

First time writing FtM, first time doing smut,first request. Alot of first happening today. @phoenixofthevalley here is your lovely request that I probably butchered.

#the boys #billy butcher #hughie campbell #frenchie #mother's milk #starlight #trans!reader #ftm reader #pregnant!reader #pregnant man #male pregnancy #transgender #lgbtq #lgbtq positivity #request #first time #Two guys equal baby? #@phoenixofthevalley #supes #villians #powerful assholes #billy butcher x reader

[divine-mistake]

The Cracks in Our Reality (2)

Summary: Loki hates the Executive Manager of the Avengers Tower because she’s too loud and too sarcastic and too kind and too soft, especially to him, who really doesn’t deserve it.

Characters: Loki/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), language, mentions of sex

A/N: Thanks for reading! You guys have been so incredible with your support on JUST the first chapter! I won't leave you hanging. Updates weekly on Saturday.

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist  | AO3 | Playlist

“You’re incredible. A life saver. A genuine Mother Teresa. God is a woman.”

You wave him off, draining the last of the tea from your to-go cup.

“You know, if you keep talking like that, you’re just going to fuel my god complex.”

Mike from Accounting grins at this, shuffling the paperwork you handed off to him only moments before. It was sloppily done, the forms filled out in a hurry as soon as the accounting department called you. They were always having problems with the books—half of that was Tony’s outrageous spending, the other half was the neverending damages the Avengers kept ringing up on the metaphorical receipt.

You didn’t even work in finance, but someone had to get the job done, and who better to do it than the Executive Manager of the Tower?

“Well, I don’t know about this god complex, but can I buy you another coffee for your trouble?”

Mike’s cute. He’s slim, brunet, has glasses that sit a little crooked on his nose. You bet he’s just a little kinky in the bedroom. Like, doggy style is his flavor, and maybe a slap or two on the ass in the throes of passion. He’s cute, but he’s not that cute, and it’s not like he’s asking you on a date or anything.

You flash him your Signature Smile. “I really shouldn’t have any more caffeine, but thanks for the offer. You don’t owe me anything.”

Then, you slide off his desk, heels clacking on the ugly tiling that covers the accounting department’s floor. With a shimmy, you adjust your pencil skirt from where it’s ridden up your thighs, hands fluttering down your silk dress shirt to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles. Then, you twirl around to look back at him.

He leans his elbow on his desk, chin in his palm, as he looks over you. “Next time then.”

You give him a mock salute. “Have a good rest of your day!” Then you’re strutting off toward the elevator, content to head back up to your office and get the rest of your work down.

From behind you, Mike from Accounting shouts, “Thanks again!”

The elevator shuts, already on its way back up.

It’s nothing new, really. The bouncing around, the extra work, the pulling overtime to get someone else’s work done for them when they’re overwhelmed. The hurried finance forms aren’t anything new—and in a month or two, Mike from Accounting will be calling you again, asking for you to redo the forms that someone else fucked up.

It’s what you’re paid to do. Kinda.

By the time the elevator doors are opening to the main floor, you’re already swiping through the schedules for the week on your tablet. A thread of annoyance is tugging at the back of your neck, a twinge of pain in your muscles from being too tense, too stressed. Your feet are already killing you, toes squished in the stylish heels you decided to wear last minute because you swore you’d be cooped up in your office all day reorganizing the schedules and making room for the press conference.

The press conference for stupid Loki Odinson, whose doing his community service as a probationary Avenger. Stupid fucking Tony Stark, who didn’t tell you that Loki Odinson, the God who tried to take over New York, was coming to stay at the Tower. Stupid fucking Steve Rogers, who tried to tell a little white lie about “forgetting” to mention it. Hah! You’d whipped his ass for that last night, giving him The Look until he finally broke and told you the truth—that Tony made him agree to not tell you.

Oh, and you’d put Tony on blast for that, too. The conversation ended with him promising you a day trip to the spa and a shopping spree for all his bullshit, not that you’d be accepting it. You really just liked to watch him sweat.

And stupid fucking Bucky Barnes for still being away on his solo mission.

Okay, but really you’re pissed at Loki because you’d tried to be nice to him and bring him dinner after you noticed he hadn’t eaten, and you brought him some extra blankets because Thor told you about his whole heritage deal and you don’t really know anything about frost giants, but maybe Loki doesn’t like being cold like a frost giant. And the motherfucker had the audacity to pull a knife on you. You’re sure he hates you because you most certainly hate him.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, finger pressed against the screen of your tablet. Everything around you is quiet. The common room is empty and the sanctuary that is your office is only a few more steps away. The light of day spreads through the Tower, spilling out from the floor-to-ceiling windows and making everything warm. You shiver despite it.

You don’t hate Loki Odinson.

He’s an asshole, sure, but from what you’ve heard from Thor, the dude hasn’t had it easy. And you know, somewhere deep down, you should be a little more gentle with him. He’s not the first person to pull a knife on you when you’ve sneaked up on them. You’re used to that.

You should know better than to bark back at a caged animal.

As soon as you enter your office, you kick your heels off underneath your desk and slouch into the comfort of your leather chair. Despite the temperature, your fingers are cold and stiff—they ache slightly when you pick up a pen to sketch out the new schedules. You lean your head back and groan.

Every time you cross-check someone’s schedule with another, you curse Tony’s name. By the time you have three sticky notes on your free hand reminding you of appointments that need to be moved around, you’re calling him unsavory names that don’t make any sense when spoken aloud, but they sure make you feel better.

Natasha comes knocking just as you’re mumbling about Tony’s lifelike resemblance to the stale ends of sliced bread, and when you look up to greet her, your desk is covered in a sea of brightly-colored notes with varying degrees of importance, noted by the multiple—or lack thereof—exclamation points on each.

“Hey,” you greet with a sigh.

She leans over your desk and reaches for your face. You flinch until she rips something off your cheek, the barest hint of a burn as the sticky note you’d somehow lost a few minutes ago pulls your peach fuzz.

“Hey,” she mimics, reading the note. “Looks like I’m not having that photoshoot on the 8th.”

“Don’t get me started!” you whine, snatching the reminder back. Thanks to the sticky notes still attached to your fingers, you don’t get enough traction to yank it back, but Natasha takes pity on you and smacks it onto a free surface.

But it’s enough to make her laugh, and that fact puts a smile back on your face.

“You scheduled the press conference already?” she asks, grabbing one of the plastic chairs Steve made you keep in your office after he came to have lunch with you once and had to stand while chowing down on his salad.

“Of course.” You huff, peeling your fingers free. “Now I’m just dealing with the damages. Mr. I’m-So-Great-I-Can-Do-No-Wrong-Stark needed it scheduled pronto, something about Fury and a compromise and ‘the trust of the citizens.’”

Natasha nods, eyes scanning over some of the reminders. “I didn’t realize schedules were so damn complicated.”

“It’s why they pay me the big bucks,” you joke, hands threading through your hair to pull it away from your face. The gentle tug on your scalp feels soothing. “It’s overly complicated because there’s so many of you, and I have to cross-reference everything to make sure nothing clashes, plus mission scheduling, and all of you have routines that I take into account.”

She whistles, and it flips a switch in your brain.

“I’m not complaining,” you say quickly. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not even hard. I just have to spend the rest of today making some calls to move everything around and then the schedules will be right again. It’s easy.”

“ Zaika,” she calls gently. Natasha is only ever gentle when the two of you are behind closed doors. “It’s not an easy job. That’s why Tony hired you—you’re the best there is at this stuff.”

You shrug at the red-head. “I’m decent at it.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “You’re the only one who ever goes above and beyond to take care of us, y’know.”

“Well you should be taken care of. You’re always taking care of humanity or doing whatever else you Russian spies do.”

She cracks a grin at that and you can’t help but do the same.

“Damn straight.” As you pull up a list of press contacts to start calling, Natasha looks down at her watch. “It’s past lunchtime and I bet you haven’t eaten yet,” she says with a knowing glance. You have enough decency to pretend like you don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nattie?” You bat your eyes at her.

“No way, we’re going dutch.”

“Dutch is a date.”

“No, it’s not, and if you’re going dutch on your dates you need to tell me who the hell is taking you out because I want to speak to them.”

With a flick of your wrist, you toss a couple of takeout menus across the desk to her. “Chill out. It’s not like I’ve been on a real date in the past—”

The shrill bell tones of your phone interrupt you and your knees clatter painfully into your desk as you jump from the sound. You lunge for where it’s hidden under a thick binder full of finance notes you used earlier, pressing it to your ear immediately.

And once again, you’re lost in the whirlwind of your job.

As the man on the other side rants about some minuscule problem he’s having with an upcoming interview scheduled for Sam Wilson—something about a security issue, and now you’re dreading broaching the topic of changing the date—you vaguely gesture at Natasha to leave. It’s unlikely you’ll be taking a lunch break today.

She gives you the Evil Eye, the look where she purses her lips like an irritated mother and draws her eyebrows together in a way that screams about you being irresponsible. In the end, she stands and starts to head out the door, but not before turning to give you one last disappointed glare.

Natasha points two fingers to her eyes and flicks them in your direction:  I’m watching you.

Then she’s gone, closing your office door behind you, leaving you to put your phone on speaker so you can massage your aching temples where a headache is beginning to bloom.

It’s one in the morning and you’re shoveling the boiling hot ramen you just microwaved down your gullet like a starved man, standing in the darkness of the kitchen to hide your shameful dinner when the lights flicker on overhead and suddenly, you’re frozen. Your eyes must be bugging out of your head when you look at whoever just caught you slurping up the remnants of the first meal you’ve had in hours.

And of course, it’s the blond-haired blue-eyed babe of a God who strides in, looking nothing but chipper until he sees you leaned against the counter, dressed only in a frumpy t-shirt and threadbare pajama shorts, feet bare and cold. To top it off, you know there is soup on your chin. You just know it.

“My lady!” he booms and you wince, hoping he doesn’t wake the whole ass tower up with his projection. “Why did you not join us all for dinner earlier? Stark provided pizza!”

You shrug, hiding your face in your bowl of noodles. “I was busy, and even if I wasn’t, you know I’m not a fan of pizza.”

He frowns and it looks so funny on his normally cheery face, almost like it pains him to say what he’s about to say. He takes a step toward you.

“My lady,” he says lowly, “I do not know anything of the sort. Anyone who claims to not love the grand Midgardian pizza is either lying, or they are my enemy.”

You snort. “I don’t like Pop-Tarts either and you know that, too.”

Thor shakes his head, slaps his big hand upon his big chest, and buckles his knees like a dramatic fool. His other hand reaches out for your forearm as if he’s begging for you to save him from whatever untimely death he’s experiencing at your pickiness.

“Treason!” he shouts. “Lying to your king!”

You pull your arm away from him to shove another forkful of ramen into your awaiting mouth.

“Not my king,” you mumble, snickering under your breath. Thor wouldn’t understand that reference even if you tried to explain American politics to him.

When Thor finally decides enough is enough and whatever brought him into the kitchen is more important than annoying you, he passes by you and heads to the pantry. You can hear the crinkling of a foil package before he turns back to face you, and low and behold, there are three packages of Pop-Tarts in his grip.

Like the true king he is, he offers you a pack, giving you the most exaggerated eye roll in history when you shake your head at him.

It’s a comfortable silence that occupies the kitchen while you both chow down. You don’t speak to each other, don’t look at one another, just enjoy the company and the orchestra of chewing and slurping and the gentle sounds of the tower at night. By the time you’ve finished off your bowl, placing it into the sink quietly, Thor’s demolished his snack and is brushing crumbs from his comfy red sweatshirt.

You waggle your fingers at him in a half-hearted wave, but Thor grabs your hand in his own. His palm engulfs yours. You swallow back whatever words seemed to think they could slither out from between your lips as you look at how gently he cradles you.

When you look up at him, his eyes are soft.

“I am sorry,” he says as if you should know what he means.

“For what?”

His gaze turns to the floor, almost ashamed. “For Loki.”

“Oh, Thor.” You don’t hesitate to pull your hand away from his in order to wrap your arms around his neck, stretching up on your tiptoes. “You don’t have to be sorry for your brother. He has to apologize for himself. It’s not your fault.”

He had felt terrible when you told him what happened the other night, although you definitely left key parts out of the story you recounted to him. Thor had apologized then, too, even with the absence of the dagger in the story, but you told him you understood what Loki must be feeling right now, that you understood he needed time to warm up. Unwillingly, Thor accepted that you were letting the incident slide, but really, what were you going to do? Get Loki chained up again? Cut off his magic?

Yeah, ‘cause that would totally help him mesh with the cool kids.

After a long moment, you feel Thor’s arms tighten around your waist, hands pressing into the small of your back as he bends to accommodate your height. Or maybe it’s to get closer to you, to press further into you. Like the soft puppy he is, you stroke the back of his head, nails scratching over his scalp lightly.

“He’s better than this,” Thor whispers. “I want him to be better than this.”

You think about all the things you could say, but none of them sound right. The soft-hearted side of you says to tell him that everyone deserves second and third and fourth chances, that he and Loki both have their issues they need to work on if they ever want to work on their relationship. The jaded side of you says that no one gets second chances in this world. Second chances only open the door to a second betrayal—a second chance to be hurt. Chances never bring change.

“He needs time,” you finally say, but you don’t know if you believe your own words. “You both need time to heal.”

It’s not the first time someone’s pulled a knife on you before, and you know better, but you aren’t sure if you know for better or for worse.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @poetic-fiasco @suffocatinglypositive @melancholic-metanoia @lucywrites02 @delightfulheartdream @its-bucky-barnes-bitch @mochminnie @httpjazel @sciamachy-after-dusk @girl-obsessed-with-things

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki love #avengers loki #plus size reader #redemption loki #loki fanfic #the cracks in our reality #loki pov #loki series #thanks for supporting me!

[just-another-muddafucka]

unwanted visitor*

pairing: max cady x fem!reader

summary: a good deed turns out to be the worst choice you could possibly make... maybe.

warnings: explicit language, slight dub con, fingering, choking, face slapping, predatory vibes, huuggeee age gap (but reader is of legal age), daddy kink

When the last bell of the day rang, you were more than happy to pack your books into your bag and hurriedly get out from behind your desk. All of your frustrations washed away the minute the final bell rang throughout the school. You walked with a pep in your step down the hall and to the left where your locker was. Quickly putting in your combination, you unlocked the metal barrier and shoved your history textbook inside and huffed as you fixed your lopsided headband that kept your hairs away from your face.

“Y/N!” You heard your friends squeal your name as they ran to you, all laughing and talking at the same time.

“If you’re gonna ask me to go to the mall again, the answer is gonna be no,” you giggled and held your binder to your chest as you shut your locker and made sure to rearrange the numbers. “My parents are coming home tomorrow and I have to clean up and stuff.”

“And stuff? What’re you gonna do? Rub one out the last night you’re alone?” Alana, the loud and dirty one of the group, questioned you and made an obscene gesture with her fist and mouth.

You shoved her and covered your blushing face with your binder as your friends giggled around you. You rolled your eyes at her filthy antics and walked in between them. “I’ll let you guys know though, okay? I have studying to do and food shopping.”

“Oh, let me know when you go food shopping. I need to get more snacks,” Beverly, the insanely smart and talkative one of the group, told you as she fixed her glasses on her nose. “I ate too much of everything again and my parents are gonna freak when they see how empty the cabinets are. Especially my dads secret stash. No wonder he keeps a lock and key.”

You and Alana shared a look and laughed. Alana wrapped an arm around Beverly’s shoulders as you three made your way out of the school. There was still a bustle of students here and there - some waiting for the bus, some waiting for their parents, others just loitering. Alana and Beverly were chatting amongst themselves, and judging from the way Bev was sucking her teeth annoyingly, Alana was probably saying something dirty or poking fun. You were in your own head as your eyes scanned your surroundings.

They suddenly landed on a beautiful red mustang parked across the street. The man in the driver’s seat was significantly older than you. You weren’t sure if he was a parent or a teacher, but his eyes never left yours the minute you spotted him. A nudge to your arm brought you back down to earth and you quickly turned your head to focus on your two friends.

“We’re gonna head to the arcade. Danny’s supposed to meet us there. You sure you don’t wanna come?” Bev asked you, furrowing her eyebrows and biting down on her bottom lip with her brace covered teeth.

“I’m sure,” you smiles and fixed the straps of your bag and held your binder tighter to your chest as you took a few steps back. “I’ll see you guys Monday!”

They both bid you a goodbye and went around the school to where the football field was to cut a shortcut. You trotted down the steps and began to make your way home which was just a 10 minute walk, 6 minutes tops if you ran. But do you really wanna run in a skirt? You shook your head to yourself and giggled softly. The air was so fresh and clean. It rained last night and today was a beautiful morning. The smell of grass and flowers overwhelmed your senses as the birds chirped around you.

“Excuse me, young lady,” you heard a gentle southern voice call at you from beside.

You gasped and looked to the side and saw the man you had seen before. He rests one elbow on the the drivers side window as the other rests on the steering wheel. He was wearing a sailor’s hat and had a Hawaiian shirt on, only the top three buttons undone, showcasing a hairy and well built chest with tattoos. He had some on his arms as well and it gave you butterflies. He lowered his sunglasses just a smidge and gave you a charming smile. Up close, he looked so handsome and rugged.

“I sincerely apologize for startling you,” he told you. “Do you, by any chance, know where Collins Avenue is? I’m afraid I don’t have a map and I have a doctor’s appointment.” He seemed so friendly. It made you feel at ease. You stepped closer to the car and looked down the street, missing the way his eyes roamed you up and down.

“You’re gonna go down that street here. And then when you’re about to pass that yellow house, you’re gonna make a right. And then there’s gonna be a blue house at the corner, then you’re gonna wanna make a left and then keep going straight!” You told the directions and gave him a bashful smile, hugging your binder closer to your chest again. “Do you get it, mister?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, darlin,” he huffed and licked his lips, sucking his teeth and tapping his thump against the steering wheel.

“Well, I can draw it out for you if you’d like? I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand,” you giggled quietly, making the man smirk as he bit his lip.

“Would you like to take a seat inside so you’re more comfortable?” He offered and unlocked the doors of his car.

“I’m not allowed to get into cars with strangers, mister,” you told him softly, nervously biting your lip.

“Well look at how smart you are!” He praised you, causing your cheeks to blush pink. He didn’t miss that and grinned wolfishly. “My name is Max Cady. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him, taking a small step towards the car when he outstretched his hand to shake yours. His hand was so much bigger than yours, fingers long and veins protruding on his hand and arm. You swallowed down a whimper at the touch.

“See, now we ain’t strangers anymore,” he winked at you, laughing quietly as you looked down. “I promise you, I’m a respectful man and you seem like a lovely lil lady.” He fingers tapped against his thigh as his knee started to bob, a sign of impatience. But he needed to get you to trust him. He needed to simply wait it out until it was the right time. When your hand touched the handle, something inside of him jumped for joy. “There we go!”

You opened your binder and turned to a clean sheet of paper, pulling out a pencil from its pocket and beginning to draw an outline of where Max needed to go. You can feel his eyes on you as you neatly scribbled down street signs and little squares as houses. His scent suddenly filled your senses. The cologne he was wearing smelled so intoxicating. You wanted to bury your nose in his neck to keep that scent around you. You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together under your binder, hoping he didn’t realize your squirming. Oh, but he did. His eyes trailed down to look at the exposed skin hidden under your pink checkered skirt, your white thigh highs fitting so snug around you. It looked so soft and supple. He needed to squeeze your flesh and sink his teeth into them to leave his mark. He suddenly wonders if you bruise easily.

“So, you go to this school here?” Max asks you, wanting to make small talk to keep you longer. “I hear it’s the last month before summer.”

“Yes, I do! It’s my last year too, and then I go to college,” you beamed with excitement and he almost found it adorable. “I can’t wait. It’s gonna be so exciting.”

“No kiddin’. What’re you studying?” He licked his lips and looked at your neck and collarbones, suddenly wondering what you’d taste like if he trailed his tounge across. How long would he have to choke you to make you pass out?

“English! I wanna be a writer,” you gave him a shy smile, watching as his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled back at you. Man, was he handsome. “I never asked where you’re from, Max. I recognized your accent.”

“Oh, just a lil town up in Georgia,” he shrugged. “Nothin’ too special, I guess.”

“Georgia? I heard they have great peaches up there. I always wanted to go to a peach farm,” you pouted.

“Can I let you in on a secret?” His voice dropped down to a low baritone hum as he moved closer to you, the heat of just him engulfing you like flames. His breath tickled your ear. “They ain’t that good.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and covered your mouth with your palm. Max chuckles to himself and elbows you lightly. Your skin was soft. His hands twitched as he moved back to his spot. And what perfume were you wearing? It smelled like strawberries and rose water.

“Um, here you go, sir - Max!” You handed him the paper and closed your binder after putting your pencil away. “If you just follow those directions, you’d be out on the main street and then the doctor’s office should be around there. I promise, you won’t get lost.”

“Well, since you’ve been such a lovely samaritan, I do believe you deserve a reward,” he tells you and reaches over to open the glove compartment, the back of his hand briefly touching your knees as he rifles around and pulls out a heart shaped lollipop. “Somethin’ sweet for a sweet peach.”

You blushed and took the lollipop with a soft thank you, sir. You unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, immediately letting out a soft moan, not even realizing it as you suckle and lick. Max never once took his eyes off you. His face changed into one of seriousness. He need to have you. And if he couldn’t right now, he’d find a way. When you went to look at him, he immediately gave you that charming smile of his.

“How about I take you home? You’ve been so good to me and I would just feel so bad letting you walk alone out here,” he told you and laid a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down as he looked into your eyes. Almost hypnotized, you nodded. “Where do you live, peach?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

When Max stopped in front of your house, he took notice of the absence of cars in the driveway. You turned in your seat and gave him a blushing smile. He rests his arm on the seats behind him and spreads his thighs comfortably. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes look down before quickly looking into his again.

“Thank you for the ride, Max. I do hope you get to the doctors office safely,” you told him gently, leaning over the console to give his stubbly cheek a kiss, once more smelling that cologne.

“Pleasure’s all mine, peach,” he grins and tips his hat to you like a gentleman, savoring the little giggles that escape your red tinted lips that was from the lollipop.

He watches as you exit the car, waving back at you as you walk up the long walkway that leads to the steps. When you reach the top, you unlock the door, turning back once more to wave at Max. He gives you a wink as you shut the door. His smile drops from his face at an instant as he puts his car into drive and parks a few houses down. All he has to do is wait now.

When you get inside the house, you drop your bag down with a sigh and envelope the silence that fills up every room. You hated silence with such a passion. It was so quiet, yet so loud at the same damn time. You needed excitement and wonder and boisterous adventures. You trudged up the carpet steps and enter your lonely room. Tugging off your shoes, you neatly put them back in the empty space under your bed, pushing them back just a tad so your bedsheets cover them. You remove your headband and run your fingers through your hair. You sat down on the edge of your bed with a sigh. Coming home to an empty house was the worst feeling you ever felt.

“I need a dog,” you mumbled to yourself and walked over to the radio that sat on your windowsill, sliding in your favorite tape of Queen and smiling happily again when Somebody To Love came on. You hummed along to the lyrics and began to pick up any dirty laundry lying around. You had to make sure the bathroom was in tact as well before your parents came home. You made a mental list in your head of things you needed to do as you left your room and entered the small laundry room just beside yours. You loaded the washer, poured in a small cup of detergent, and turned the novel so that it would start rotating the clothes around.

You walked down the steps and entered the guest bathroom that was adjacent to the back door. You put your handle on the knob and turned it to make sure it was still locked before you left for school and after you came home. Just as you walked down the hallway to check the front door, the familiar Hawaiian shirt caught you off guard in your kitchen. You gasped and pressed your back against the walk beside the steps. Max Cady was standing in your kitchen eating an apple from your bowl of fruits.

“You should learn how to lock your doors, honey,” he tells you, taking another bite out of the apple as he motions with his hand around. “I mean, anybody can just walk in.”

“Wha-What’re you doing here, sir?” You whispered helplessly, feeling as thought you’re about to collapse just from how fast your heart is beating. “My parents will be home a-any minute, you need to go.”

“The calendar says otherwise,” he tells you condescendingly and steps in front of said calendar. He points to a circled date that was tomorrow and reads aloud, “Mom and dad come back.” He turns back to you, seeing the evident fear in your ears and the tremble in your body. “Now, why on earth would you go and lie about somethin’ like that? Your parents taught you about strangers, but I guess they ain’t teachin’ you about lying.”

A small tear rolls down your cheek as you try to muster up a response, but all that comes out is a feeble, “Please.”

Max sets the apple down on the countertop and begins to stalk towards you just as you make a mad dash for the front door. You swing it open just when his strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the ground and throwing you back down behind him, causing you to scream and fall on your hands and knees. He slams the door and chases you up the stairs as you helplessly crawl. You sobbed and fought at his rough hands as they grab your arms to slam you against the wall, making one of the picture frams fall onto the ground. You cried and clawed at his skin, trying to smack his face to catch him off guard.

“Get over here,” he growls and enters your room, throwing you onto the bed and slamming the door shut with his foot. “I do believe you need to learn some manners.”

You cried and hiccuped as you hugged your knees to your chest, desperately holding onto them as grabbed onto your pillows as well. You watched with tear filled eyes as Max turns off your radio. He gets on his knees on your bed. You helplessly shake your head and cried out when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you down onto your back, causing your sheets to come undone and your stuffed animals to become disheveled.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered and closed your eyes tight, feeling his nose against your damp cheek as he chuckles in your ear.

“Kill you? Oh honey, I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he tells you, his southern drawl becoming thicker. He sits up straight, looking down your body and at how your thighs are trembling, your skirt pooled around your hips to show your tight gray panties. “Look at what we got here.”

You hiccuped and fearfully opened your eyes to see him staring down between your thighs with such hunger. You go to close them, but he smacks your thigh with such force that it makes you cry out. You rub at that sensitive and pained flesh, suddenly wishing that you never interacted with the man. He grabs your blouse and rips it apart, your buttons flying everywhere. You hear some clatter onto the ground as you lay helpless under him.

“I don’t want to hurt your pretty lil self, so how about you just cooperate, hm?” Max sternly tells you, pointing a finger down at you as if scolding a child. When you let out a small, “okay,” he nods in approval. “Now, have you ever been touched by a man?” You shake your head no. “You ever been touched by a woman?” You shook your head no. “You ever touch yourself?” You shook your head no once again. He laughs to himself and rubs a hand down his jaw. “You shittin’ me?”

“No sir,” you weakly whisper. “I’ve been saving myself.” You jump from his boisterous laugh. “What?”

“Well, I never thought of you to be such a holy girl.” His fingers gripped your thighs and he groaned as he saw the flesh turn white before pink. “Sweet, little innocent thing, hm?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as his fingers moved further down until they stopped at the rim of your panties. “W-What’re you gonna do to me?”

“Well, I wanna choke the life out of you and destroy every inch of this body of yours, but I’m a gentleman,” he grins and tips his hat before putting it to the side. “I like you, Y/N, and I think we’re gonna get along just nicely.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, sliding the blade under the fabric of your panties and lifting up in quick succession as he rips the fabric out from under you. He whistles and licks his lips as he first sees your bare cunt.

“Freshly shaved, just how I like ‘em,” he grins and rubs his fingers against the lips of your private parts. You jumped from the foreign feeling and gasped, thighs trembling to fall shut as he applies pressure to the swelling button hidden beneath your lips. “Thatta girl. Just let daddy do what’s best for you, hm?” He forces your thighs further apart and notices a small string of arousal sliding out of your tight hole. “What do we have here?”

You’re nervously panting as you play with the locket around your neck. Max slides his fingers to scoop up slme of your slick and shows it off to you with a filthy smile, spreading his fingers lewdly to show you the strings of arousal that look like saliva.

“I-I don’t know what that is,” you softly tell him. “And I don’t want to know. So can you please leave me alone, sir.” More tears filled your eyes as he laughed at your pathetic attempt.

“Darlin’, we’re just getting started,” he tells you and suddenly roughly shoves in his middle and ring fingers inside your tight cunt, laughing maniacally at the way you scream out from the painful intrusion. “That’s what I like to hear!”

You try to shut your thighs, but his large body and his arm between your legs stop you from doing so. He reaches over and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing and forcing you further down ontk the bed. You cough and grab onto his forearm, digging your nails into his tattooed and hairy skin. You kick your feet out as he begins to move his fingers in and out of you in quick succession. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to distract yourself. But every single one of your thoughts are violated by Max. He squeezes your throat much harder than the last, relishing your weak gasps for air and the wet sloshing of his fingers inside your virgin pussy.

“You think I didn’t notice those little fuck me eyes looking at me inside the car?” He crooned. He removed his hand from your throat, watching with a hungry expression when you weakly gasp for air, your eyes dazy and unfocused. He slaps your cheek condescendingly, loving the small whimpers that leave your lips as he does so. “You wanted me from the start, little peach.” He leans over with a hand planted in the side of your head. You look up at him, thighs trembling even more as he speeds up his fingers, the tips prodding at this sensitive part inside of you that forces more slick to pour out.

“Mmhmmm,” you whimpered softly and threw your head back as your toes curled in your thigh highs. This feeling was so foreign, yet it felt so good. Max knew what he was doing, and yet you didn’t want him to stop. “Please... daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” he grins, crooking his fingers and moving his wrist upward as he ferociously begins to finger fuck you. You gasped and reached down to grab his forearm, but he shakes his head and laughs at your weak attempt.

“Oh G-God!” You squealed, eyebrows furrowing and cheeks burning up as the churning in your stomach envelopes into something bigger and stronger. “I-I feel... I feel... uuhhnnggh.”

“Let it happen,” he growls, slapping you in the face just as you squirt all over his hand and forearm, your juices spilling out onto your bedsheets and his pants. “Look at that!” He laughs as you try to catch your breath.

“Wha-What just happened, Max?” You whispered, feeling so dirty from letting an older man - a stranger - touch you so inappropriately, and you liking it.

“Oh honey, that ain’t nothin’,” he draws out and begins to unbuckle his belt. “We’re just getting started.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

TAGS: Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

@robert-de-niro-only-fans @droogiesanddiscourse @robert-deniro-love

#so um yeah 👁👄👁 #this man is making me think unholy things #max cady #max cady x reader #max cady imagine #cape fear #robert de niro

[moronic-validity]

The Vincent Sinclair’s Boot x Reader Fic

okay so a few notes! 

1) Reader is a trans guy (like your’s truly) 

2) This is smut for the sake of smut, plain and simple.

3) I finished this at 2:30am and I have to be at work at 8. 

This Contains: dubcon/coerced consent, drugs, bdsm, dom vincent, a boot kink, typos, almost murder, masturbation, and car problems! Everything under the cut is 18+!!!

As the temperature gauge crept higher and higher, [y/n] had to kick himself. He had been told to check his oil periodically through the road trip, but more than that, he had always been told to keep an extra thing of 5-20 in his car. Both pieces of advice went in one ear and out the other.

Which left him here, in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, 30 miles shy of Baton Rouge.

The immediate reaction was to get out of his car and scream. Sure, it was near midnight, but there wasn’t anyone nearby, so what was the worst thing that could happen.  The flash of headlights on him and his car answered his question.

Great. Fantastic. Cool.

“Hey, sorry about the yelling,” he called out in the general direction of the headlights. “Any chance you have some 5-20, I’ll be right out of here if you do!”

No response. [y/n] sighed and sat on the hood of his car and watched the car. It was the middle of the night and it was still hotter than hell and humid to match. Without giving it much thought, he pulled his t shirt over his head and sat it on the hood next to him. What did it matter, he had a binder on anyway. Not like anything was showing.

The mystery driver flashed his brights at [y/n], then threw it in reverse and went back to where he came from.

Well that’s fantastic. I’m in the middle of nowhere and someone knows I’m stranded here. Perfect.

Without giving any more thought to it, he got back into his car and went to sleep, his t shirt thrown over his eyes.

The sun didn’t wake him up, the tapping on his window did.

[y/n] scrambled into an acceptable position and pulled his still damp t shirt on. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to see the man standing near his window. The man wasn’t intimidating or anything, but the situation was odd and [y/n] was immediately warry.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn mean to startle ya or nothin,” The man with the green hat said with a small laugh, “it just looked like ya might need some help, most people don like sleepin in their car this time a year.”

[y/n] squinted at the guy. It wasn’t due to the accent or the look of him, the sun just happened to be right in his eyes. The perfect start to another fantastic day.

“Uh yeah, I’ve definitely had better days. Any chance you know where to get a quart or two of oil?” He asked, ending it with a still tired yawn.

“I could give ya a lift into town, ‘m sure Bo will help you out at the station,” The green hatted man offered helpfully.

“Actually, that’d be wonderful, thank you…” [y/n] realized that he just accepted a ride from a man who’s name he didn’t even know. His mother would be so proud.

“Lester, Lester Sinclair,” Lester said with an extended hand.

“[y/n], [y/n] [l/n]” He took the other’s hand and gave a firm shake. [y/n] was acutely aware of the tacky reddish-brown smudge that was now on his hand.

The ride into town was quite, aside from the rumble of Lester’s truck and the sound of tires throwing rock.

“So where’re you headed?” Lester asked, glancing over at [y/n].

“Ah, no direction, wanted to go up, down, coast to coast. Want to see a little bit of everything, I guess,” [y/n] picked at the skin around his index finger, “I’ve only broken down once, so I figure I’m doing okay.”

“Welcome to Ambrose, I know it probably isn where ya wanted t’ go, but there are worse places.” Lester said cheerfully.

The ride went back to being quiet.

“Oh shit,” Lester whined, more to himself than anything else, as he threw the car in park and jumped out, “ya wouldn’ mind givin me a hand flipping the hubs, would ya?”

What the hell does that even mean? {y/n] thought to himself as he hopped out of the car to help Lester with the task anyway. Help was a bit of a strong word for what [y/n] did, it was more get in the way and offer moral support. Lester appreciated the gesture and the company. Most people jumped out of the car and fled into town by this point.

The two got back into the truck and drove right on into Ambrose and parked in front of the service station.

“Now, you wait here, Bo ‘ll be ‘round soon,” Lester dropped [y/n] off with a wave then drove off to wherever he worked. It occurred to [y/n] that he never thought to ask.

It also occurred to [y/n] that he’d have to walk back to his car or hope that someone in town would be willing to give him a ride. Just one more thing. He sighed and sat with his back against the wall of the station.

At least there’s shade. It’s already starting to feel like the devil’s armpit, but at least there is shade.

Time passed, could’ve been hours, could’ve been minutes.

No, it was definitely hours.

Around the point [y/n] was sure that this Bo guy would have to pry him off the cement with a spatula, Bo happened to come down the road and up to the door of the station, near where he was sitting. Bo stood within arm’s distance as [y/n] pushed himself up off the sidewalk.

“I take it you’re Bo? [Y/n] [l/n], Lester said you might have some oil?” [y/n] offered the man he assumed to be Bo his hand. Bo flashed [y/n] a smile that seemed to try to hard to be charming.

“Well, I’d introduce myself but you already know who I am,” Bo chuckled. He was in a suit and tie, didn’t seem like he was dressed for his line of work. “ Let’s see if we can’t get you back on the road, hm?” He hummed to himself as he unlocked the door to let the two men into the store.

There was no AC, and that was the first problem [y/n] had with the station. The second problem was that there appeared to be no oil. Anywhere.

What type of station doesn’t carry oil. Oil. OIL. Walmart carries oil, DG carries oil. Why does this man not have oil.

“Uh….Hey Bo, any chance you have some oil in the garage that you’re willing to part with?” [y/n] asked, while squatting and looking at another shelf devoid of oil.

“I’m sure I could check,” Bo said, his voice drifting further away. [y/n] kept looking.

“So I’ve got some bad news, I don’t have any oil down here;” ,” Bo said as he re-entered the store, wiping his hands down on a grease rag, “Good news though, I got my restock shipment in yesterday and just haven’t gotten around to bringing it down from the house. I’m more than willing to let you wait here while I go up to to get what you need, but you look like you need something to drink.”

[y/n] thought it over. This would mark the second time in less than 24 hours that he went somewhere with a random stranger, but at least this time he knew the guy’s name.

Well, the south is known for its hospitality, so I might as well go and get something to drink.

“I’d really appreciate something to drink and thank you so much for the help,” [y/n] said, suddenly aware that his mouth felt like it was full of glue.

The pair were about halfway to the house, when [y/n] finally felt the need to ask about the suit.

“Okay so, I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but why are you wearing a suit? Isn’t it a bit hot for that?” Bo stopped moving at [y/n]’s question and seemed to consider a few possible answers before he nodded to himself and kept walking.

“Well, it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity,” he chuckled to himself, “and uh,” he paused to clear his throat, “My mom passed on, was at her service.”

“Bo, I am so sorry. If you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to pay my respects before I leave town,” [y/n] couldn’t help but feel intense sympathy for Bo.

He left his mom’s funeral to help me get some oil so I can get back on the road. Holy shit.

They walked in silence for the rest of the day, [y/n] was unsure how to comfort this stranger, so he just followed the other man’s lead. Silence.

Bo unlocked the door when they got up on the step and lead [y/n] into the house.

“Washroom is down the hall if you need it, the door should be open,” Bo motioned towards the washroom, “Make yourself at home.”  

With that, Bo was in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of sweet tea. [y/n] decided to take Bo up on his offer of a washroom. Once the door was shut, he fought with his binder for a minute, before finally getting it off his chest, letting it hang loosely around his neck. At this point, it just felt good to take a few deep breaths. After a few minutes passed, [y/n] pulled his binder back into place, swore he’d keep it off until he hit the next rest stop, then went back out into the house and met Bo in the kitchen.

Bo handed [y/n] the glass of sweet tea, condensation already beading on the sides. Nice and cold and incredibly sweet, it even tasted southern. And a bit salty. [y/n] had never had homemade sweet tea before, so he assumed that maybe that just happened sometimes with the tea when it cooled.

The room started to sway.

“Hey, [y/n] maybe you should sit down, looks like the heat is getting to you,” Bo said, worry in his voice, but a smile on his lips, “maybe you ought to lay down for a bit.”

Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.

That was weird, he tried to say it out loud, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Bo helped [y/n] to sit on the couch and as his vision started to darken, [y/n] swore he saw another person enter the room.

When [y/n] came to, he realized a few things in short order. It was much darker, he was not on the couch, and he was restrained to the metal table he way laying on. Ever the optimist, he was thankful for the fact that he still had his clothes on and also for the fact it was much cooler wherever he was.

A tall man with long dark hair entered his line of sight. [y/n] had a few ideas of things to yell at him, but instead, took a different approach.

“So, either I’ve been asleep for a really long time, or you’re not Bo,” [y/n] said, turning his head to get a better look at the man. The man’s shoulders shook, like he was laughing without the noise.

Okay so he can’t talk. Noted.

The man turned around to face the table and made sure his hands were in clear view as he signed, “Vincent.”

The motions were smooth and [y/n] caught it near immediately.

“Vincent is a nice name,” he mused, giving Vincent a charming smile of his own, “I’m [y/n]. Now, I do have a few questions, mainly, why am I tied up?”

Vincent turned his back on [y/n] and went back to preparing the paralytic, deciding to make it a bit stronger so the man on the table wouldn’t have to be awake for the worst of it. When he turned around and [y/n] saw the needle, the reality of the situation began to sink in and things snapped into focus.

“Hey Vincent, I don’t know what’s in that needle, but I promise you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re about to do,” [y/n] tried to keep his voice level as he squirmed and fought against the restraints, “I know we don’t know each other, but I swear you don’t need to do this.”

Vincent watched him writhe on the table and considered his options.

“Please, can we talk this out, please,” [y/n] continued to beg, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and bruises already forming at both his wrists and his ankles from the jerking around. Desperation in one hell of a drug, because in no other situation could [y/n] see himself saying, “I’ll do anything to convince you.”

Vincent set the syringe back down and walked up to the head of the table and gripped [y/n]’s jaw and turned his head to make sure he saw when he signed “Are you sure?” he drew it out to emphasize the importance of the question.

Was [y/n] sure? No. No he wasn’t, but he wasn’t in a place that allowed many options. Behind door one? Death! Behind door two? A questionable fate that could very well still end in death!

Yeah, I’ll go with door number two, please.

[y/n] nodded, Vincent’s hand still not leaving his jaw.

Vincent considered the situation for a moment. He considered the number of girls that Bo had brought to him after he had had his way with them at the station. Girls had never really been Vincent’s speed.  There were plenty of attractive guys who had come through, but mostly they were either already dead or just spit curses at him. [y/n] was different. No threats, no insults, he was shockingly calm, all things considered. Vincent stroked up and down the side of [y/n]’s face, bringing his hand into the smaller man’s hair and pulling, eliciting a soft whimper.

“I want you to show me,” Vincent signed before undoing the restraints at [y/n]’s ankles. As for his hands? His hands were going to stay bound, but a change of position was still needed. Vincent kept eye contact with [y/n] as he undid his wrists.

[y/n] sat up on the table, moving slowly as to not startle Vincent. The last thing he wanted was to scare the guy who probably had a half dozen ways to kill him in arms reach. His wrists ached and were bleeding in some places. He rubbed at his sore joints before Vincent snapped his fingers, pointed directly at him, then down at the floor near his boot clad feet.

[y/n] had the opportunity to make a run for it, but instead knelt at Vincent’s feet. Vincent put his hand out and without thinking, [y/n] rested the side of his face against it. Vincent’s face burned beneath his mask, that was not what he needed the man to do. He pulled his hand away and gently slapped at the kneeling man’s face, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to know that that was not the desired action. The kneeling man was a quick learner and when Vincent put his hand out again, he reluctantly placed his wrists in the larger man’s hands.

[y/n] was not thrilled at this situation, but he was also a simple man, and for all the terror in the situation, Vincent was a large man with shockingly soft hands that were big enough to envelop both of his wrists, who had complete control over the situation. Should he be getting wet due to the situation? Absolutely not, but in the one psychology class he took in high school, it was mentioned that fear and arousal were close together in the brain.

Vincent saw the bruising and blood on the smaller man’s wrists and was careful when he rebound them. Sure, he was planning on killing the guy, but his plans had changed. He threaded a rope and carefully suspended his wrists so that his wrists would remain above his head.

[y/n]’s first thought was that Vincent wanted head. Most guys he had met enjoyed getting head, so it did make sense. He carefully pressed his cheek against the man’s crotch and nuzzled against it, then looked up and into Vincent’s eyes for any sign. Instead, Vincent just lifted his knee and pushed [y/n] off of him like he was a disobedient dog.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as to what he wanted, if not a blow job. He was further confused when Vincent lifted his boot clad foot and pressed it into the smaller man’s pelvic bone, hard.

Oh.

The pressure of it was enough to lift him up just a little bit more and it had him wetter than he thought he could be in a situation like this. He pressed down onto the shoe and began to grind against it, shamelessly chasing the friction it created.

Vincent groaned. His cock twitched as he watched the man’s lewd display. He didn’t want [y/n] to touch him, not yet. There was still the chance that could go horribly wrong, what Vincent wanted was to see exactly how desperate the man was. Vincent began to palm himself, stroking through the fabric of his pants while he watched.

The answer was very. [y/n] was very desperate. [y/n] was desperate not to die and now, now he was also desperate to cum. He pressed himself harder against the toe of Vincent’s boot and rutted against it, groaning loudly when it pressed up against that bundle of nerves. He began to fall into a rhythm that hit every sensitive spot he could reach.

Vincent’s hand was now in his pants as he stroked himself to the same rhythm [y/n] was fucking himself to. God,  Vincent thought to himself, this man was making an absolute whore of himself. It might not be a bad idea to keep him around. Could make work slightly less taxing. Then the bound man made a sound that snapped Vincent out of his thoughts and almost made him cream his pants.

He was getting so close, he had thrown himself so into chasing his high that he almost forgot that the circumstances that brought him to this were less than desirable. He pressed began to rotate his hips so that bundle of nerves caught significantly more pressure and more friction. He let out a loud, needy whine.

“Please Vincent, please tell me I can cum, I’ve been such a good boy, please God, Vincent,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth, he was babbling and begging for a different release now. Vincent bucked into his own hand, listening to the whines and pleas.

Tears were starting to form in [y/n]’s eyes again, he was trying so hard to be good for Vincent, trying so hard to be his good boy. Sure, less than an hour ago, he wanted nothing more than to be as far from him as possible, but God, he was so close to cumming and he just needed Vincent to tell him he had been good. Hadn’t he been good enough to deserve release?

Vincent pressed his crotch against [y/n]’s face and continued to jack himself off. He didn’t want the man’s mouth, but he wanted the proximity. He was so close to his own release. So so close, all he needed was-

“Oh GOD, sir please, I’ve been so good for you, please sir. Tell me I’ve been a good boy for you, tell me I’m your good boy, please sir; oh my God, please, please,” [y/n] continued to babble, now crying for release against Vincent’s aching cock.

Yeah, that just about did it for him. Vincent’s orgasm took him hard and left a sizable stain that leaked into the front of his pants and against the begging man’s face. Vincent closed his eyes, lost in his own release. When things snapped back into focus, he realized the other man was still whining pitifully, still having not came.

Vincent had to admit, he was impressed at the man’s willpower, it was oddly attractive to him that the man refused to grant himself pleasure without permission. This could actually work out wonderfully, Vincent thought to himself.

He took the rope in his free hand and yanked on it hard enough to knock the [y/n] off balance. He looked up at Vincent as he tried to regain balance. Vincent let go of the rope and let him drop onto his knees, but his eyes were still locked on his masked face.

Vincent thought about it for a moment before signing “I want you to cum.”

That was all [y/n] needed to hear before going back to rutting against the shoe, quickly going over the edge and coating the toe of the boot in his fluids. He braced himself against Vincent’s leg, mumbling thank yous as he came back down. Vincent allowed this to go on for a short while, before cutting the rope and pressing [y/n]’s face down to the still wet boot.

Vincent used one hand to yank [y/n]’s hair to make the blissed out man look up at him, with the other hand, he calmly signed “Clean it up.”

#slasher fucker #vincent's boots #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent x reader #house of wax #nsft #I haven't written a fanfic in years #fanfic #theo writes #theo's thoughts #teddy talks #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers