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grey342 · 4 months

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But daddy I love him

Dbf! Phil Wenneck x reader

synopsis - An innocent, family friendly barbecue soon turns dirty at the return of your fathers best friend from college..

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, Age gap (reader is 19, Phil is in his early 30s), (VERY) fast paced, thigh riding (kinda), Phil talking you through it, daddy kink and unprotected sex.

authors note - This post is in celebration of 100 followers 🎉 I can’t thank you all enough, so sorry again for my absence. I will hopefully be posting (semi-) regularly again, let me know what you thought of this in the comments and my requests are always open ❤️

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

Oh. My. God

Your jaw almost drops to the floor with how wide you open it. You don't believe it's him when he first walks through the door, it's been so long since you’ve seen him. Too long in fact.

Phil Wenneck. Your dad’s best friend in college, you haven’t seen him since you were thirteen and he moved away to LA. Even back then you had a childish crush on him.

But now that childish crush was replaced by a salacious need. His eyes raked down your body, his tongue poking through his cheek. It seemed your lust for him was very much reciprocated. You walk over to him, slightly popping your chest out, and as you got closer you noticed his signature smirk plastered on his face.

"Well haven't you grown up?" He says, eyes never leaving your chest.

"I could say the same to you." You retaliate, he chuckles.

"See you still have the same attitude." He takes a swig from his beer. You focus on the way his adam apple bobs, your core clenching.

"And you're still a raging ass." He lets out a real laugh after that, it's quickly become your new favourite sound.

"You kiss your daddy with that mouth." He straightens, towering over you.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you smile up at him, "i'm gonna go inside. Maybe get a snack, wanna come with?" His eyes scan over your face, licking his lips as he nods.

You make sure to sway your hips when walking to the kitchen, knowing he would be tracing your every move. He scans your surroundings as you open the fridge door and say:

"What do you want fruit? Chips and di-" He grips your waist and presses his lips against yours. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck and lace your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull.

He groans into your mouth and places his thigh between your legs, you moan at the contact.

"You like that huh?" He says against your lips, sharing breaths. You nod your head, face scrunched in pleasure.

"Yeah I thought so," he slowly starts to guide your hips over his thigh, "you want me to take you right here? Bend you over the counter and pound my cock into you with everybody outside? Huh?"

"Please Phil.." You breath.

He claims your mouth again and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He takes you into the bathroom places you down on the counter.

"Take off your shirt." He says whilst turning to lock the door. You follow his instructions and strip out of your tank top.

He turns back around and you swear he moans at the sight.

"Look at you baby," he grabs them, "but how about we get this off too hm?" He reaches behind and unclasps your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He groans grabbing your boobs and pinching your nipples.

"Phil, stop teasing," you gasp as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, "please...daddy."

He froze, you instantly panic worried you've scared him off until-

"Say it again." He rasps, eyes consumed with lust.

"Daddy-" He rips your shorts off, along with your panties and his pants. He pumps his dick a few times before rubbing the tip on your clit. You groan at the same time until he pulls back.

"Shit, are there any cond-"

"I'm on the pill, I was tested last week and it came back negative." You cut him off, he smirks back at you and rests his forehead on yours before slowly sliding into you. You gasp, he was big.

"Holy shit.." You moan, as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly.

"Yeah," he groans, "bet you've never had a dick this big before huh?" You rapidly shake your head, moving your hands underneath his shirt and rake your nails down his back.

His hand reaches down to rub and pinch your clit, you squirm underneath him.

"Come on baby give it to me," he rasps, "y'gonna cum for daddy hm.." He trails off getting lost in the way your pussy is clenching, pulling him in deeper.

"Fuck, daddy please." You feel the knot in your lower stomach begin to tighten. You claim his lips with yours once more as his other hand reaches up to pinch your nipple.

You throw your head back, mouth wide open with lewd noises spilling from it. Phil takes the opportunity to kiss and suck on your neck. You're certain there will be hickies left there for you to cherish this moment later.

He pounds into you relentlessly, knowing how close you are. You wouldn't be surprised if you were drawing blood with how deep your digging into his back. Your moans are getting louder and louder. His hand rubs faster on your clit and his head leans down, mouth clasping around your nipple.

"Fuck, Phil!" You cry out, legs shaking as the pleasure ripples through.

"That's it honey, that's it, good girl." He encourages, his hands gently rubbing your thighs. He allows you to come down from your high before picking you up and flipping you over. Your front pressing against the counter.

"Now," he slowly starts to thrust again, "two more."

You look at him through the mirror and give him a dopey smile, knowing you have a long night ahead of you.

#bradley cooper #bradley cooper x reader #phil wenneck #phil wenneck x reader #the hangover #x reader #smut #send asks #love

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chiefdirector · 5 months

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Discovering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tim could feel the blood pounding through his veins, the sound reverberated through him. Each pump seemed to get louder and louder. Each thud was felt in his chest. He looked down only to find his hands were shaking beyond his control. If he hadn't drawn his attention away from his heartbeat, he wouldn't have noticed the tremors, or the people rushing around him as he stayed frozen to his spot.

Harper and West were getting equipment. Nolan and Chen were to one side, discussing something that Tim couldn't hear. Grey and the Captain whose name Bradford hadn't bothered to learn were to the other side of the room, silently watching the rest of the station prepare to go into the unknown.

The files that had been given out in the briefing yesterday had instructed each team on what their assignment was. Harper would be going with Nolan to check out the safehouse that was assigned to (Y/N)’s operation to see if there was anything that could hint to her current location. Lopez was to head back to interrogation to attempt to get Williamson to give up any more information. Chen was staying behind with him to review everything from the beginning.

“Hey,” Chen said, bringing Tim’s mind back to him, “Grey is waiting for us in the conference room. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, lead the way.”

-----

“So, from the beginning, Detective Bradford started her undercover operation two years ago on the 5th of May. She last checked in with us on the 17th of May, and was declared legally M.I.A on the 23rd of May.” Sargent Grey said, sticking a post-it note to the left side of the board at the top of the room. He continued sticking post-its as he spoke. “The initial investigation turned up little but her gun was found in the assigned safehouse alongside a bottle of her medication.”

“According to Williamson, he saw her for the last time shortly after that. He turned on her a few days after they went M.I.A. But she didn't know, or she wanted to play it cool because she kept in contact via burner phone semi-regularly.” Chen said, looking down at the notes in front of her.

Tim’s head snapped to face his rookie “Was that when you spoke to him privately, or was this in interrogation?”

“When we were alone.”

“Text Lopez, get him to confess to it on record. If not, it's not solid enough to go from.”

“Tim’s right, Chen, but it's helpful nonetheless.” Grey sighed, “From then on it's pretty rocky. We have a few civilian sightings but nothing concrete. She stayed away from CCTV and any heavily policed areas. She knew to stay hidden. Which doesn’t help us, but we now know that it was intentional. WIlliamson said he spoke to her less than two weeks ago, she was near the Mexican border in Arizona.”

“Does the border patrol know to look out for her?”

“The Captain is alerting them now, as well as local police departments. The FBI has also been told of this development due to the crossing of state lines. They have agreed to give manpower as needed but let’s hope we can keep this in house.”

“So what now? We have barely anything to go from?” Chen tentatively said, trying not to provoke any reaction from her T.O with her words.

“We wait for Lopez to finish her interview with Williamson and then we will make a plan.”

-----

“He seemed to realise he was in a lot of trouble and asked for a lawyer pretty quickly.” Lopez said as she walked into the room, “I did, however, manage to get him to reveal the names of his employers in a trade for a letter from the Watch Commander stating his cooperation to whatever judge he gets assigned.”

Grey nodded his head before prompting Angela to continue.

“I had another Detective look up the names he gave. As expected they are tied to all sorts of crimes; drug distribution, embezzlement, fraud, unlawful use of a lethal weapon. And those are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. However, there is also good news, none of them seem to have a history with kidnapping or anything more extreme, or at least anything that has been reported.”

“And we want to keep it that way, so we will have to be extremely careful with what we do next.” Grey said, moving towards the door to go brief the Captain about their discovery and to start to make a plan of action

“Yeah, but there is one more thing he said before lawyering up.”

“What is it?”

“That we shouldn't waste the manpower on finding (Y/N). He said that she wasn’t the one they wanted to hurt but she was used to punish other people. Her vanishing was only a means to an end.”

Tim could hear his heart begin to pound in his ears once again. He breathed in, then out, then in again. If she wasn't their target, then who was? And if she was only a pawn in their game to hurt somebody else, then what else would they do to ensure their target would suffer. How many more lives had been ruined by these monsters, and how many more would suffer a similar fate to the ones that had gone before them?

“Who were they trying to hurt?” Tim ran his hands through his hair as the question unintentionally tumbled out from him. “Did he give a name?”

“Yeah, that's the thing…” Angela let the words trail off as she tried to compose herself. Tim watched as she took a deep breath. “Williamson claimed that the cartel they were hunting threatened (Y/N) into silence with photos of her loved ones to make you vulnerable.”

“I dont… I dont understand.”

“You were the one they wanted to punish, Tim. This is about you, it always has been.”

Part Three | Part Five

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie imagine #the rookie #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

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ken-dom · 6 months

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Training Wheels

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

1k words

Summary: You have to take Lars apart before you can put him back together again

Author’s notes: This one happened after a conversation with @hollandstrophyhusband about Lars's messy vs smart looks and his regularly unfastened zipper. Title once again from my Lars playlist 🩷

Warnings/content: nsfw, semi-public, hand job, dirty talk, teasing, light dom/sub elements (sub!Lars)

Lars’s hand slapped across his mouth. He was trying to muffle a moan he could feel rumbling up from his chest, and all the while, his legs felt like they were about ready to give out.

‘Such a dirty boy, aren’t you Lars?’ you cooed into his ear, your tone setting a shiver creeping over his overheated skin. ‘Getting so hard for me when we’re surrounded by people? Leaking into your underwear before I even touch you? So- naughty-’

You punctuated the final words with two very thorough pumps to his cock and he whined, loud and needy even with his mouth muffled by his own palm. His free hand scrambled against the wall behind him to find something, anything to ground him.

Fleeting thoughts flashed through his mind that he wanted to explain himself. To tell you that this was all because you’d been teasing him all day with little deliberate touches here and there, and then you’d continued all night at this party he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to, dripping lewd little comments in his ear, whispering all the dirty things you’d been thinking about him all day.

He couldn’t focus his thoughts on reasoning for long enough to bother trying to explain that that’s why he got hard and shuffled off to the bathroom all coy.

And now he was so close. So painfully close. You knew how to work him over just right, make his pleasure last, have him simmering on the brink and then bring him off exactly how he needs it.

It was becoming too much. Just on the cusp of becoming completely overwhelmed, Lars needed you to let him cum. So he opened his eyes to beg. He knew that if he moved his hand away from his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to control the needy sounds trying to escape him. But his piercingly blue eyes, pouring with tears, said it all.

‘What’s that, Lars, baby?’ you cooed, slowing your ministrations just slightly. ‘I can’t hear you. You’ll have to take your hand away if you want to tell me.’

He shook his head desperately, panic draining his flushed cheeks as your other hand moved from where it rested beneath his sweater, warm on his soft belly, to wrap around his wrist instead.

‘Mmhnn- mmn!!’ Lars protested, using every shred of strength left in him to keep his hand sealed over his lips.

‘I need to hear you,’ you whispered, pressing your lips to his ear as you loosened your grip on his length, giving him some incentive to comply.

His hand immediately dropped from his mouth and his hips bucked forward at the sudden lack of friction, and he sobbed a far too loud, ‘No- please! Please don’t stop!’ no longer caring about the queue of his colleagues and friends on the other side of the door.

‘Tell me what you need,’ you instructed, cool and measured, slowly picking up the pace with a stroke of your palm.

‘I- I need to-’ he started, cheeks flooding red again.

‘What do you need, Lars?’

‘I- I need to cum!’ he whined, blinking his gaze away, ashamed.

He didn’t have time to focus on the shame rising in his gut though, because your fingers were firmly wrapped around his cock again, pumping so furiously he almost collapsed against you.

You pinned him back to the wall and kissed him hard, roughly forcing your tongue into his mouth and swallowing his loud groan as he spilled, hot and thick, over your hand, his fingers gripping at your sides so hard as you tipped over the edge, you hoped he would bruise them.

‘Good,’ you soothed as he dropped his head back and gasped for breath. ‘You did so good for me, Lars.’

His face scrunched up, overwhelmed, but he nodded a thank you, whimpering as his cock softened.

‘Now we’ve got to go back out there or they’ll start to miss us, ok?’

He whined again, clinging onto you, not wanting you to face anyone and just curl up with you instead.

You pulled away, admiring the state of him. He’d dressed up so smart for the party, his best suit and his thickest sweater, hair combed impeccably and his shoes shining.

Now they were splattered with the last few drops of his release, his hair in complete disarray, trousers hanging loose around his waist with the zipper unfastened, underwear pushed down revealing his soft length and his tie loose beneath his sweater, undershirts protruding from where you’d slid your hand up under the layers.

As his breath steadily slowed and tried his hardest to stop shaking, you found a towel and ran it under a warm tap, gently cleaning his length before bending to wipe the drops of his semen from his shoes too.

Throwing it hastily in the laundry basket, you turned back to run your fingers tenderly through his mussed hair, restyling it for him, neatening him up. He sighed dreamily as you pressed your lips tenderly to his still flaming hot cheek.

You could feel his heart pounding in his chest as you straightened his tie and sweater, finally reaching lower to tuck his cock inside his damp underwear and gently zip up his fly, slipping your palm carefully over his sensitive cock for one last feel of him, squeezing lightly and feeling him jolt.

‘Good as new,’ you smiled.

‘Thank you,’ he breathed, straightening and checking himself in the mirror.

‘Now out you go, handsome. I’ll be with you in a minute, alright?’

His eyes widened, panic spreading over his face.

‘Go on Lars, be brave. No one’ll know you’ve just cum…’ you leant closer, feeling him tremble, to whisper, ‘unless you tell them.’

He closed his eyes tight and swallowed hard, your hands guiding him to the bathroom door and unlocking it for him.

‘One minute, okay? I’ll be right behind you.’

With a gentle shove, he was out, music from downstairs flooding the bathroom for a moment before you closed and locked the door again to freshen yourself up, ignoring the impatient queue that had indeed formed outside.

Lars flashed them an exceptionally nervous smile and headed hurriedly down the stairs, wondering whatever you would put him through next. At least you always made sure he looked decent.

#not s f w 💀#lars lindstrom #lars lindstrom x reader #lars lindstrom smut #lars lindstrom x you #lars lindstrom x y/n #lars and the real girl #lars lindstrom fic #lars and the real girl fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #ken dom writes

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morallygreyyn · 1 year

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I love your writing so much.

If it's not a bother, could I have a (maybe little bit ooc) scenario about Illumi realizing the people he hangs out with most (Hisoka and Reader, a truly chaotic duo) are dumbasses, but he loves enjoys having them around?

Thank you!!

those two idiots of mine (illumi x reader x bestfriend!hisoka) (scenario)

description: illumi has a semi crisis over his two self proclaimed best friends

authors note: it’s not a bother at all and you’re so sweet anon! tbh this has to be my favourite request i’ve gotten so far. illumi dealing with his chaotic duo besties with begrudging love? sign me the fuck up <3

also this also had extrovert/introvert themes so i thought i’d include the mbtis of my boys

illumi: istj (according to a quick google search)

hisoka: entp (like yours truly) (i swear sharing an mbti with hisoka is my defining trait)

reader: whatever the fuck you are (insert your mbti here)

warnings: might be a smidge ooc, i really tried my best to make it have an authentic illumi feel but my guy is dealing with emotions so yk...

requests are open!

Of all the tiresome things Illumi had dealt with in his life, having you and Hisoka be his primary source of socialising might be top of the list. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you all started to meet up regularly for various things, nor could he remember when you had self proclaimed yourselves his best friends.

You and Hisoka were both utterly ridiculous, often matching each other's wild energy as if you were on the same brainwave.

Illumi began to question his ‘friendship’ with you when you and Hisoka started debating whether or not ketchup was a smoothie.

“It’s a blended fruit.”

“But you have it as a condiment with savoury foods.” You argued, whacking the magician’s head with a newspaper.

He swatted you away with an amused hum. “That doesn’t change its nature.”

“You don’t drink ketchup.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Illumi quietly listened to his two best friends argue as you all sat round a table.

As he watched the two of you bicker back and forth, he was unable to fathom your unique stupidity. The assassin understood that individually, his friends were incredibly intelligent and capable people. However once together, you two seemed to share the collective intellect of a prawn.

“Illumi!” The assassin was brought out of his internal suffering by the very source itself. Both you and Hisoka had decided that for some reason they needed a third person’s opinions on your debate.

“I’m not getting involved.”

“C’monn, please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll give Hisoka Killua’s number.”

“Ketchup is a savoury condiment, not a smoothie.”

You let out a whoop of victory, fist-pumping the air in your joy. “HA! Suck it Hisoka!”

“That’s no good, he’s biased.” Hisoka tutted, shaking his head and folding his arms. “You know Illumi always sides with you.”

“That’s because he loves me.”

“Unconfirmed by him.”

“Confirmed in his heart.”

“Does he even have one?’ Hisoka shot.

“Do you even have one?” You fired back.

“Touché.”

Illumi sat there locked in a daze, listening to his two best friends argue like children. Yeah, you two were both the biggest idiots he had ever met, but he wouldn’t change you for the world. Of course he would never say this, but it never stopped the two of you from trying.

And so what if he loved enjoyed having the two of you around? Who would be able to tell anyway?

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jaeyong-sucker · 2 years

Text

COCKWARMING • JOHNNY

⚠️WARNING⚠️

Read at your own risk

COCKWARMING

The act of a man slipping his erection into his partner's vagina or ass in order to keep warm - a more intimate version of spooning.

♡♡♡

"When will you ever get done? You've been staring at that computer for half a day!" You whine at Johnny being so workaholic. You can't blame him though. Being an office worker requires him to do tons of paperwork.

"Please, Y/N. I have to finish these reports then you can have me after." Johnny replies with an affectionate tone. His eyes still focused on the screen. You hate seeing him this busy. His work surely got in the way of your sex life. You and Johnny have sex, let's say almost regularly, but now just once a week or even not, thanks to that desk job.

"You said that for five days straight. It's already Saturday and we never had sex this week." You scoff and throw yourself on the bed. Johnny gulped at what he just heard. It makes him bad when he doesn't fulfill his agreements.

"I'm sorry, baby. But I need to finish this." He stops typing for a moment and turns his swivel chair around to look at you.

"Johnny, I can't help it! Especially when you're just in your boxers. Please! I need you right now!" You pout and bounce your legs childishly.

"Then come here, babe." He spreads his legs.

"What?" You raise your eyebrows, a bit surprised at what Johnny asked you to do.

"Come here." He took off his boxers and pumped his semi-erect cock until it got really hard.

"You just have to stay still and I'll fuck you later as long as you want." He continued as you removed all of your clothes in a flash and sunk down his cock. You held onto his shoulders tightly until he was fully inside you.

"Fuck! So... shit... so tight. Oh my god. You prepped, didn't you?" He gasped between pants, surprised at how tight your walls are.

"What do you expect? Your dick didn't stretch me for weeks and those dildos aren't big enough!" You grunted as you forgot how big Johnny really is. His cock almost a foot long and about five and three fourths thick. Your hands gripped on Johnny's shoulders while you buried your head in his chest as you adjusted to his length.

"Great. Now I can work while you adjust there and your hole gets easier to pound later." He chimes, swiveling his chair back to his desk and resumes his work.

You slept after a while of adjusting to Johnny's length. Hopefully he gets finished when you wake up... but he didn't. You flutter your eyes open and see Johnny intensely gazing at the screen, then at the papers, then write on his notepad. You groan at the torture of being still doing nothing on his cock. Sure, you love how warm his cock feels inside you. But this is just plain vanilla.

Deciding to tease him, you clench tightly around his length and his reaction was priceless. He looks down at you, eyes shocked with his mouth open and his breathing becoming ragged. You quirked a brow at him and he got back to typing.

Next thing you did was roll your hips slowly. With his face now sterner, you roll your hips faster and he lets out a long, broken moan.

"Y/N, stop. Please. I'm almost finished and I can't mess up." He begs with a calm voice and you sense how determined he is to finish all the reports.

You whine and only ride his cock greedily. Slamming of your skins now heard throughout your shared room. You notice the beads of sweat forming on his temples and his typing becoming angrily fast. His breathing now became heavier before he slammed the laptop shut aggressively.

"I'm done."

Let's say you can't walk properly for a week at how rough Johnny ripped your hole. That's okay. At least you ended your week delightfully.

♡♡♡

A/N: Lmao i swear i uploaded this last year and it was nowhere to ve found. Good thing I didn't delete the file lol.

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wordywarriorwrites · 9 months

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Burning Hearts

Burning Hearts | A03 | Master List | Rating: M

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Frankie gave you up for all the right reasons, but he just can't seem to let you go...

Pairing: Frankie Morales X F! Reader, Triple Frontier AU

Warnings: Language. Smut. Mentions of violence.

It’s well past last call, but the bartender pours Frankie another without him having to ask.

He knocks it back and chases the burn with a long drag off his cigarette. The combination of nicotine and booze gives him a pleasant buzz, but his favored tried-and-true vices bring him no relief.

All the club’s patrons shuffled out about an hour ago, but the staff carries on, seemingly content to remain open just to wait on him. Frankie knows they won’t cut him off or boot him out, but the need to maintain appearances, at least in public, prompts him to reach for his wallet.

He doesn’t pay for drinks – not at this particular watering hole – so, the Benjamin he slaps down on the counter is more for the speedy service and absence of questions than anything else. He stabs out his smoke, and when he gets to his feet, the peanut gallery on the peripheral of his pity party of one simply moves off to do other things.

An armed enforcer – especially a drunk one, out after hours and clearly spoiling for a fight – would prompt most people to run for cover, but the strippers are pros, and the guards don’t flinch easily. Plus, Frankie’s part owner, which means he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and what he wants, more than anything, is to see you.

So, he gives in to the urge.

He walks by the stage, tips the lone dancer for still bothering to put on a show, and salutes both the DJ and bouncer as he exits out the back. His driver is seated behind the wheel of his always-at-the-ready Bentley, and Frankie parks his ass on the supple, buttery leather of the backseat for the journey. By the time he reaches your estate, he’s sobered up a bit, answered all the texts he’s been ignoring, and pulverized about a half-dozen mints into the grooves of his molars.

The security guys at the gate know who he is. They take pity on him, allowing his vehicle to pass and continue on up the winding driveway. As the car crests the small hill, Frankie’s eyes sweep over the acreage, taking note of the tables and chairs set up on the grass. There are also at least a dozen catering trucks and twice as many hands, all busily taking apart centerpieces, pushing overflowing bins of linens, packing away decorations, and breaking down a podium, dance floor, and sound system.

There are other armed guards – way more than usual, in fact. Vested bodies dressed in black, with their intimidating visages dispersed in strategic places along the peripheral and in blind spots. Frankie isn’t nervous; he knows they’re on the job, and he doesn’t intend to do anything that would spur them or their semi-automatics into action.

Foregoing the bell, he uses the knocker, allowing the old, iron lionhead to wallop against the mahogany front door. Your head of security, Will Miller, answers promptly, weapon drawn and ready for action. He’s young and a bit tetchy, but he’s got sharp eyes and knows how to handle himself. Will’s been by your side for years and takes his job very seriously, and though Frankie would never admit it aloud, he’s relieved the guy is ready and able to protect you with unhesitating ruthlessness.

“Morales,” Will greets tersely. “State your business.”

“I just wanna see her,” Frankie replies without preamble.

He scoffs and curls his upper lip, but before he can reply with something undoubtedly and deservedly curt, your voice lilts through air.

“William?” you call out. “Who is it?”

It’s clear by Will’s thunderous expression that Frankie’s unexpected arrival has caused a disruption of the regularly scheduled programming. He’s positive the guy is just itching to plug him, but that doesn’t happen. Instead of being pumped full of lead, a quiet exchange between you and Will takes place, ending with him re-holstering his weapon and you graciously inviting Frankie inside.

The polonaise runner just beyond the threshold guides Frankie into the foyer, the hardwood floor beneath it polished to a high shine and positively gleaming under the soft light emitting from the chandelier hanging overhead. The ornate mirror situated above the marble console in the entryway reveals his slumped profile and wrinkled suit, and Will’s unimpressed sneer is all it takes to get him to straighten his tie and square his shoulders.

Will resets the alarm, and takes your slight nod and murmured thanks for the polite dismissal it is. Once he’s gone, you motion for Frankie to follow you, traversing a familiar path toward the kitchen. He clocks the sway of your hips as he trails behind, paying no mind to the cleaning crew who stops mid-task to hurriedly make themselves scarce. The chef and small army of assistants packing up leftovers and scrubbing the hell out of cookware are just as respectful, filing out in a silent, quick procession.

The two of you are alone, so, you play hostess, going for the fridge and emerging with a bottle of Voss in hand. After placing it on the island within his reach, you move off, and the physical distance between you isn’t lost on him. It hurts, but affords Frankie the opportunity to take you in. Louboutin heels. Trendy cocktail dress with a modest hem length and neckline. Tasteful jewelry, light make-up, and hair pinned back in an elegant twist.

You’re straight-up class. And so far beyond his reach.

You – blue-blooded and born into generational wealth. Him – a nobody from nowhere. Your name commands respect. His incites fear. You’re an admired, contributing member of the community, full of kindness, and always willing to help. He’s a trigger man, constantly on the precipice of chaos, dragging around a sordid reputation, and always ready to run.

You’re the real deal. You’ve got the pedigree that demands a high-class match with someone important. Someone who doesn’t have a permanent target on his back. Someone safe, who doesn’t always have to fight, fuck, kill, or steal to keep what he’s got. And he knows – damn it, he knows he’s not worthy…

“Why are you here, Frankie?” you prompt gently.

Thoughts grinding to a halt and at a loss for the right words, he simply shrugs. The picture of patience, you remain silent, which is just as well. He knows he can’t keep doing this to himself or to you. He needs to do right by you. He needs stay the fuck away, but it’s always so much easier said than actually done.

In fact, it hasn’t been that long since he last saw you. A month, maybe? He wondered then, as he does now, if you’ve moved on because he certainly, obviously, hasn’t. And the thought of anyone else touching you? The mere idea of you with another? Someone who could be part of your world, whose mere presence wouldn’t put your life at risk? It makes Frankie reexamine both you and his surroundings with a more observant, suspicious gaze.

Beyond the obvious chaos of a messy kitchen is a small chef’s table, and on the surface, a half-eaten chartreuse board and an open bottle of Merlot. Two pieces of stemware; one stained with lipstick matching your shade, and the other, blemished by the remaining inch of red at the bottom. The lingering stench of a cigar. The presence of your favorite handbag on the chair.

What he perceives amounts to nothing more than a collection of assumptive, so-called evidence that fits the wild narrative in his mind. Still, Frankie seethes with jealousy. Mind and body all tilt-o-whirl, he snarls – deep and nasty, like he’s some sort of fucking animal protecting his territory, but you don’t balk. Instead, you reach for your clutch, pop the clasp, and fish out what looks like a folded piece of paper.

“The charity fundraiser was this evening, remember?” you explain without any guilt or guile. “Pope asked for a private audience after. Apparently, I forgot to rescind his invitation.”

Frankie runs the pad of his thumb over his lower lip, eyes narrowing at the nondescript check you slide across the island’s countertop. Temper unjustifiably flared and now subsequently doused, he snatches up the proffered bottle of water, uncaps it, and forces gulps past the fist-sized lump in his throat.

Fuckin’ Pope. When it comes to making money, he’s merciless, indiscriminate, and not one to let personal feelings get in the way of business dealings. Of course, he’d want to rub elbows with your people. His presence at your soiree, along with Will’s trigger-happy mood, and all the extra staff and guards? It makes complete sense.

But a one-on-one so late afterward? It must’ve been important – something urgent that couldn’t be spoken of in mixed company or discussed over the phone. There are only so many things a man like Pope and a woman like you would have to talk about. Last Frankie knew, the police were still sniffing around, and the lawyer you have on retainer is having a fucking field day, but the heat isn’t bad enough to warrant a face-to-face.

Then again, maybe Pope sought you out for personal reasons and professional gains. Pairing up with the big Boss would guarantee your continued safety and silence a lot of wagging tongues. Your connections would also open up a plethora of new revenue streams, providing Pope with unfettered access to some very deep pockets. Shit, Frankie can practically hear Pope listing the mutual benefits, spinning the rationale of it all, and it makes him feel sick.

Sick and absolutely fucking murderous.

You’re an honest, good woman. All that forthrightness and decency – it’s right there, in your beguiling, steady gaze. And you’re not stupid. In fact, you’re too damn smart for your own good, and the thought of you putting yourself at risk makes Frankie itchy all over. You’re so disarmingly calm, while he’s barely fucking holding it together, and damn it, he has to know for sure…

“Did Pope –” Frankie croaks, scraping a hand through his hair. “Did he ask you to do something for him? Or want to take you out on like, a date, or whatever?”

Lips parting in shock, you blink as if taken aback, and that’s answer enough. Relief buoys and deflates him, and Frankie downplays his seesawing emotions and outlandish, self-sabotaging thoughts by moving over to the table and busying his hands. He pokes at the slices of baguette and the cubes of gourmet cheese. Feigns interest in the thinly sliced prosciutto. Tilts the wine bottle to glance at the label.

None of it interests him because the only thing Frankie’s interested in is you. He gave you up for all right reasons, but still, the feelings you stir inside of him, and the white-hot desire he has for you – they’ll never go away. They roll through him now, stronger than ever; dark possessiveness and furious agony punching him in the gut and pulsing between his legs and clawing at his already tender, bleeding heart.

Frankie met you while scouting some swanky restaurant ripe for poaching, and after cajoling you into abandoning a dinner party, he somehow talked you into drinks, and then, seduced you into his bed. What should’ve been an amazing one-night stand morphed into eight months that quite literally rocked his world. Your acceptance of who he is, your ability to compartmentalize, the way you simply fit in and adapted to his extremely fucked up reality – hell, if the shoe were on the other foot, Frankie’s not sure he could’ve risen to the occasion or withstood it.

What he’s found and experienced with you – it’s fucking lightning in a bottle. Insane, magical, incomprehensible. It never happens for guys like him because guys like him don’t get the girl or the happily-ever-after. Too good to be true? Maybe. Was he in too deep? Absolutely. But it didn’t matter if you were ignorant or a willing participant – it was dangerous either way.

And Pope’s not just the Boss – he’s Frankie’s best friend. His brother. And Frankie’s a loyal soldier – has been since the two of them were in diapers. Yes, he’s in love with you, and if you moved on, he’d get over it eventually. Someday. Maybe. But if you moved on with Pope? He wouldn’t – couldn’t – survive that. And because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment, he has to ask the million-dollar question.

“What if he wanted to?” Frankie asks, pressing his thumb into what he believes is a hunk of Parmesan Reggiano and mashing it flat. “Would you consider it?”

“Consider what?” you wonder.

“Being with him?”

A sharp breath. A ragged exhale. Your lower lip trembles before it gets bitten into submission by your teeth, and when you meet his gaze, he sees his own pain reflected back at him a thousand times over.

You tell him to leave, heels tap-tap-tapping as you hastily move for the intercom system, voice clipped and cold as you inform him a maid will see him out. He hasn’t just offended you; he’s hurt you, again, but a halting hand on your waist and a fervently whispered apology keeps you from the call button.

Frankie knows he’s got no fucking right – no right to question you or touch you, and certainly no right to step forward when you step back. He’s got no right to dig his fingers into your hip or press you up against the pantry door or burrow his nose against the crown of your head and slowly, greedily inhale.

“I’d fuckin’ kill him,” he growls. “If he ever – I swear, I’d fucking rip his throat out.”

You place your hand over his, and your touch is so soothing, immediately calming his too-hot temper like top-shelf whiskey. Your index finger ghosts over his knuckle tattoos. Ink that means nothing to outsiders, but showcases to anyone who knows his world just how dangerous he is. It’s the hand he uses to dispense justice; it’s scarred, tainted and stained with blood, yet, you touch it with such reverence, such fearlessness…

Frankie closes his eyes and rolls his jaw, “I shouldn’t have – I didn’t mean –”

“I wouldn’t,” you interject, words weighted and insistent. “Not ever.”

“You don’t – shit, you don’t need to tell me that,” he insists, shaking his head at his own uncouth stupidity. “Besides, it’s none of my business. And you’re right – I should go. I should go and stay gone.”

You let out a soft, contrary sound, “You shouldn’t have left.”

He swallows hard. You turn your head. Then, your nose and cheek are brushing against his jaw in a gesture of affection that settles something inside of him that’s too feral to define. Your palms gliding up his arms, along his shoulders, and down the expanse of his chest – it pulls him back from the ledge he’s been tiptoeing along since the day he said goodbye to you.

Frankie meets your eyes. Cups your cheek. Allows his thumb to caress your soft skin. You say nothing, but you look at him as if he’s the only one – as if there could never be another – and he wonders if you can tell that he feels the same way.

“I love you, Frankie,” you assert. “It’s always going to be you.”

“Cariño…” he sighs against your temple.

You’re braver – so much braver than he’ll ever be – and you’re the one who gives into it. You press your lips to the scruff covering his chin, and that gentle, achingly familiar prelude to a kiss destroys his already too-flimsy resolve. Frankie is the one surrendering to you, but you’re the one who yields to him, tilting your head back and opening up to his eager mouth.

He dreamt of you every night. Woke up every day to cold sheets. Had been unable to throw away your toothbrush or part with the half-full bottle of your shampoo. Was unwilling to change the lock screen on his phone from a picture of you to something less painful to look at. He couldn’t delete the playlist you made for him or stop buying the books you put in his Amazon cart. Your favorite fuzzy socks are still in his top drawer, tucked safely next to the pristinely folded, ridiculously threadbare boyband t-shirt you’ve had since you were a teenager.

You have no idea what you do to him. No clue about the kind of hell he’d raise for you, the bodies he’d put in the ground, the lives he’d destroy – all for you. He can’t explain it, not in words, so, he coveys it with his body. Seeking the taste of you with his tongue and searching for your skin with his hands. Sliding his thigh between your legs and rocking into you because he just wants to be close – he just wants to feel you, to lose himself inside of you, to make you smile at him again.

“Upstairs,” you whisper into his ear. “Come upstairs with me, Frankie.”

Powerless to resist, he follows you to the privacy of your room, located on the second floor at the very end of the hall. Jacket, belt, tie – you divest him of his modern-day armor, letting the pieces fall like petals leading up the path to the altar that is your California King-sized bed. Frankie’s shoulder holster is last, and once he’s placed his gun safely on the nightstand, you begin frantically working apart the buttons on his shirt.

“Love you, cariño,” he pants as he yanks his arms free of the sleeves. “I love you so goddamn much.”

You kick off your heels before giving him your back, “Show me.”

Frankie lowers the zipper on your dress. Pushes at the straps. Watches the inky, supple material slip and slide off your figure. You work your panties down, ass teasingly meeting his crotch as you push the delicate silk and lace past your garter belt. Then, you ease down onto the bed, back hitting the downy comforter with a soft thud.

He’s palming himself through his pants, trying to decide where to start, and your thighs parting in invitation help him make up his mind. He kneels. Hooks his arms around your calves. Yanks you forward until your ass is practically hanging off the mattress. You let out a peal of laughter, and he grins up at you rather dopily as he hitches your legs over his shoulders.

“This okay?” he breathes against your calve.

You touch the tip of your tongue to your upper lip and nod, “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Are you?”

It’s impossible to miss the vulnerability and doubt in your eyes. Frankie knows he wasn’t the only one brokenhearted and that his mistakes hurt you both. An apology seems so inadequate, but he says it anyway, listing the litany of ways he intends to make it up to you, but only if you’ll allow it.

You cup his face and let out a sigh, “I just want you. That’s all.”

Frankie nods. Presses a kiss to your palm. Allows his lips and tongue to trace a path up your thighs, canines sinking into supple flesh along the way. He seeks the center of you with a parched tongue and fingers longing to touch, and when he reaches his destination, you cry out for him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, suckling your clit and dipping his tongue inside for a taste. “Let me take care of you, cariño. Just let go for me, yeah?”

Your left breast – plump, soft, and encased in silk – spills free when he yanks the cup of your bra down. Frankie pinches the hardened peak of your nipple, and you arch into his caress, clamping down on his fingers and writhing all over his face. You’re lost to it, just like he is, and when you come against his mouth, it’s indescribably beautiful.

“I need you,” you declare fervently. “Need you inside me, Frankie.”

He doesn’t heed your call until he makes you come again. When he does get to his feet, you’re boneless, but still, you sit up and reach for him. As soon as he’s popped the button on his pants and worked the zipper down, your hands are there, tugging at his boxers. You take him out and wrap your fingers around him, nice and snug, just how he likes. He’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, unable to stop his hips from pumping into your firm hold, and he has to put a halt to your teasing or risk coming in your hand.

His boxers and pants are in a tangle over his shoes, but he manages to kick everything off and crawl into the soft pile of blankets and pillows after you. Frankie peels off your stockings. Winds your silky-smooth, bare legs around his waist. He kisses you, teasing you and bumping your clit with his hard length until you beg him for it.

He lines up. Pushes in. And then, it’s paradise – pure and true.

You twine your arms over his shoulders, pulling him down into the cradle of your embrace until he’s practically smothering you. Forearms braced on either side of your head and face buried into the crook of your neck, Frankie eases back and slowly thrusts forward to the hilt with a roll of his hips. You meet him halfway, tilting your pelvis up and bearing down, engulfing him in a fist-tight wetness that forces him to work for every deep stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, cariño,” he groans, smearing his lips along the hinge of your jaw. Frankie puts more effort and weight behind each thrust, hitting deep and keeping a firm, steady pace that he knows gets you off. “Did you miss this? Miss me?”

You mewl. Nod frantically. Forehead pressed to yours, he reaches for the bend of your knee and loops your leg over the crook of his elbow so he can put his back into it. Driving and grinding into you possessively, gaze fixated on yours, flitting between nipping at the tops of your breasts and licking into your mouth and sucking at the pulse point of your neck.

“N-no more,” you stutter, biting into the meat of his shoulder. “No more running, Frankie.”

Frankie nods and snaps his hips forward, “No more running.”

The promise is sealed with another kiss, and when you come for him again, Frankie loses what little finesse he still possesses. You encourage his rutting, whispering in his ear that you want it, that you need him to come inside you. And you’re so wet, he can hear it – how turned on you are, how good he makes you feel, and it’s so good – so goddamned good – that when he comes, his vision dims and all the noise in his head goes silent.

Save for your mingled, harsh breaths, it’s quiet. Peaceful. You welcome his weight on top of you, holding him, scratching at his scalp and kissing his forehead and running your hands up and down his spine. Affection, freely given, without any expectation or ulterior motive behind it. It reminds him of what he almost lost, and he vows to himself that he’ll never let you go again.

Frankie looks up at you with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, “What did Pope actually want?”

“He begged me to take you back,” you reply, letting out an amused sound as you trace a fingertip over the shell of his ear. “Said he’d donate ten thousand dollars if I did.”

“Is that so? And what did you say?”

“I told him it wasn’t my decision. Then, he upped the offer to twenty, so, I said I’d think about it.”

Frankie snorts and squeezes your waist, “Oh, I bet he hated that.”

“Well, you’ve apparently been a real pain in his ass lately,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug. “So, I told him to donate fifty, and that I’d call him when you came to your senses.”

He laughs – full-bodied and freely. He kisses you – proud of the hard bargain you drove. And once Frankie’s tucked into bed beside you, absorbing your warmth into his cold bones, he makes a mental note to thank Pope for his meddling in the morning.

#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales smut #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier au #triple frontier fanfic

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pankowperfection · 2 years

Note

Hi!!! Congratulations!!! I would love 8&17 for topper!!!!!

8. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

17. “Suck on my fingers.”

His Obsession

Summary: Topper loves your mouth, can't resist the urge to use it

Warnings: smut, oral fixation?, face fucking, fingering, semi public sex, oral sex (male receiving, fem implied), 18+

Topper was obsessed with your plump, pouty lips. You regularly caught him staring at them, look of longing in his eyes. He was one of those guys who liked to just lay in bed and make out, both of your lips swollen by the time you stopped to catch your breath. He loved the way your mouth looked wrapped around his fingers, especially loved how hot you looked with your lips around his cock.

The way you'd been making love to the beer bottle with your lips all night had his cock aching in his pants. He swore you were doing it on purpose, making eye contact as you picked up the beer, lips wrapping around the opening before closing your eyes, titling your head back, and swallowing the amber liquid. When you let out a little moan at the flavor he'd had enough, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

Before you could protest he locked the door behind him, pinning you to the cool metal with his large frame. He closed the distance between you, kissing you roughly as his tongue darts into your mouth. Your hands palm his ass, pulling his body forward so you can feel his erection against your core. "Fuck Top - so hard for me." "It's all your fault sweetheart. Been teasing me all night." His hand finds it's way under your mini skirt, pulling your lace panties to the side before brushing through your folds as your head falls backwards to the door.

He sinks two fingers into your wet heat and your thighs threaten to buckle, holding onto his biceps to stay up right. He curls his fingers just right, fire racing through your veins as you race towards your high. His thumb starts tracing circles over your clit as he bites and sucks on your neck. "Be a good girl and come for me. Soak my fingers baby." His words plunge you over the edge, biting your lip hard to hold in your moans. His fingers continue working you softly as you come down, finally withdrawing when you grin at him.

He brings his hand up towards your face, intention clear in his eyes. “Suck on my fingers. Want you to lick them clean.” You hold eye contact as you suck his long digits into your mouth. You moan at the taste of your release, making Topper let out a moan of his own. You make a show of sucking his fingers, swirling your tongue around their lengths as you bob your head forward and backward. "Enough," he commands, unfastening his button and zipper as he pulls his aching cock free.

"Get on your knees." You instantly obey, not caring about the cold tile against your skin as you look up at him through your lashes. “Open your mouth for me, baby.” Your jaw goes slack, presenting your tongue to him as he gives his length a few pumps, laying it down against your tongue as you moan at the taste of him. He grabs a hold of your hair, holding your head in place as he starts fucking your hot little mouth. "Shit-" his eyes are closed now, muscles in his thighs flexing as he thrusts forwards and backwards. You relax your throat, letting him slide in deep and he lets a loan moan slip. You moan around him, vibrations bringing him closer to the edge.

You slide a hand up his leg, lightly massaging his balls as he continuously buries his length down your throat. "God sweetheart. I'm gonna come." You feel him twitch in your mouth, hips stopping their movement as he paints your tongue with his cum. "Swallow it all, don't waste a drop." You do just that, showing him your empty mouth as he smiles, helping you to your feet again. "Can't wait to get you home and return the favor. Daddy needs a taste." He smacks your ass, heading out of the bathroom first as your arousal coats your thighs. You couldn't wait to get home either.

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @hoebx @ailee-celeste @pankowforlife @outerbankspov @houseofperfecttaste @vesperluvsbillie @drewbooooo @my-baexht-ls @maybanks-luver @blueicequeen19 @toystory2wasjustokay

#topper thornton #topper thorton smut #topper thorton x reader #topper thorton imagine #obx smut #smut #obx

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morguevampire · 2 years

Text

(Un) Fortunate Encounters -Chapter 1

Masterlist for this fic

summary: You already had enough shit to deal with in your life and probably could have done without bumping into a wanted Sokovian terrorist/criminal by accident. Of course this random encounter had to turn into a whole new mess but could it perhaps turn into something beautiful?

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, drinking, mild alcoholism, dark themes, slow build romance, not really Stockholm syndrome but that’s up for interpretation

chapters: 1/?

word count: 1.062k

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: Hallöchen und Willkommen zurück! I haven't posted anything in ages but I suppose I am back with quite a challenge for myself: a multi-chapter Zemo fic? I will try my best to actually finish this story and post (semi) regularly - in case people are actually interested. Please excuse the kind of cryptic summary. I have the story more or less planned out but I am quite spontaneous so I might just switch stuff around. Already working on the next two chapters tho :)

As always, English is not my mother tongue so I am happy for any corrections concerning spelling, grammar and general sense-making. Also let me know what you think in general and if you are interested at all in me continuing this work. Thank you and Tschüsseldorf

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/108466263

Chapter One: Strangers

It must have been last Tuesday, you recall, while one of the detectives presses play on the security footage that they are showing you. You were storming out of the bank, you somehow managed to block your credit card and you were in a rush since you had to go fix it during your lunch break. God forbid you took an absence from work for stuff like this, your boss was an asshole.

You bumped into a guy on your way out, which you didn’t even fully register but apparently it was the worst thing you could have done because you’re currently sitting in an interrogation room of the fucking FBI because of it. The two detectives not so quietly knocked on your door this morning, all but dragging you out of your apartment – you were seen with a wanted criminal and brought in for questioning, while your apartment was being searched by forensics.

It’s now been almost two hours of “How do you know Baron Helmut Zemo?” and “What did he say to you?”. He apparently escaped prison again and was on the run leaving basically no traces. You told them time and time again that yeah, you knew who he was… from the news… but that you really didn’t recognize him bumping into you and had already forgotten the encounter a minute after it happened, so caught up in your own shitshow of a life. At least after the 10th time of trying to make it clear that you did not KNOW the guy they followed a different strategy in questioning you.

“Please, Miss, close your eyes for us and try to recall the moment. We really need details to get a lead on finding the bastard.”

You did as you were told. It was difficult; the fluorescent lights of the room already giving you a headache and the atmosphere rigid and uncomfortable but you really tried going back to that moment in your mind.

You remembered rushing out of the door of the bank. Not too many people were around. You were looking at your phone, checking the time to see you needed to be back at work in 10 minutes when suddenly you full on pumped into a guy in a dark purple sweater and gray baseball cap. Your phone slipped out of your hand and you remember that he bent down to pick it up at the same time as you. He mumbled a quiet “apologies”. He was quicker to grab your phone, handing it to you with a simple “Are you ok?” while intensely staring at your face, slightly tilting his head. Remembering now you could probably verify he had an accent, but it could have also just been that you now knew that a Sokovian terrorist asked you that question. You mumbled a quick “yeah, yeah no worries” and got up quickly. In your memory the exchange lasted maybe a few seconds but seeing it on the security footage it seemed to take ages until you were on your feet again heading away from the man. He even turned around to watch you storm off and quickly disappeared himself.

You could kind of understand why the FBI was suspicious about the encounter but you really did not have any useful information. Eventually, in combination with the lack of evidence in your apartment, they recognized you were a dead end and let you leave, simply warning you to stay in the country and to tell them should you remember anything useful.

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

Once you got home you collapsed on your couch. The apartment felt strange, knowing just mere hours ago a team of men in white suits basically took it apart, looking for any kind of evidence that tied you to the man that bombed the UN.

You let out a big sigh that turned into a grunt and rubbed your eyes. You were exhausted and pissed off and maybe also a little bit scared. You couldn’t shake the feeling off that this wasn’t a simple accidental running into some stranger. This man was a mastermind. A villain. He had the brains to take out the avengers and yet he makes the mistake of bumping into some random woman all while getting caught on a security camera. What was he even doing at the bank?

Thoughts kept circling around in your head and what’s the thing a mindful, responsible adult with a good coping mechanism does in that situation? Pour a glass of wine and do some research on google. At least it was Friday night, so you had the whole weekend to come up with weird conclusions and maybe take one or the other semi-drunk nap. You opened your browser and in a Bella from Twilight kind of way simply googled “Helmut Zemo”. Random articles popped up, some pictures of him during his arrest and as with any brutal criminal there was of course a whole community of people romanticizing him. You looked down on his “fans” for justifying his actions but did you blame them for finding Helmut Zemo attractive – not really. You had to recall how he looked at your face while picking up your phone, brown eyes staring intensely into your own while a deep, quiet voice asked you if you were ok. And that’s when you shut your laptop and slumped back in your seat, groaning once again because what the fuck. Were you really that desperate and deprived of attention from the male species that you would let your thoughts go into that direction. No. It was time for bed, even if that just meant staring at the ceiling for however long it took exhaustion to overpower your restless mind.

The next morning you couldn’t really remember how you got into your pajamas or whether you brushed your teeth but your mind was still full of images of him. Coffee should help, you figured. You stared absently at your little Italian moka pot, contemplating the day’s activities when a loud crash suddenly erupted. Almost as if somebody just smashed down your front door. You startled, froze on the spot and became extremely scared. Was it the FBI again? Have they found something after all? Something that you weren’t even aware of? You were just about to turn around when something heavy hit the back of your head.

And everything went back.

#Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x Reader #Helmut Zemo & Reader #Helmut Zemo fanfiction #MCU #Helmut Zemo x you #Baron Zemo #Baron Zemo x reader #TFAWS

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erikamaybe · 8 months

Text

Welcome to Hellhound Farms!

Welcome to Hellhound Farms! We hope you enjoy the tour!

We are now entering our Hucow dairy facility. These lovely ladies spend up to 18 hours a day in the mind erasing bliss of being milked! To maintain output they do need to be bred regularly. If you're interested in helping with breeding duties feel free to stay and you can continue with a later tour. If you're more interested in feeding than breeding, they could always use some extra protein. Simply step around to the other side of the railing and give a gal a little tickle under the chin, she'll open wide and be ready for for you to use her throat for as long as you like. There's not a thought in those pretty heads, they don't really need THAT much oxygen anymore.

Moving on, looks like it's time to sheer the sheepgirls! It looks like they're a bit shy today, it's been a while since they've felt this... exposed... But don't worry, these soft little sluts love to show off, so be sure to give them lots of encouragement. Just head on over and give squeeze or a spank or whisper the most obscene thing you can think of in her ear! If she blushes keep going, if she slaps you that just means she's already wet and ready to get railed. It's ok to get a little rough with them, our livestock are studier than they look. Well look at that! With the sheep in for sheering, our hard working dogs have some free time on their hands. Sure, they might look dominant bullying the sheep, but a few head pats and a good girl, and our dogs with be rolling over in a flash to show you their soft bellies and needy holes. Please show them that their hard work is appreciated! Up next, the harpy coop!

Wasn't the Harpy coop amazing? Those girls can push out a dozen eggs every couple days! Now you may have noticed that most of our laborers are centaurs. It's just sooooo convenient to have the height and strength of a horse, and a brain that actually works! Plus, it takes some good old fashioned horse cock to leave some of our gals feeling properly bred. We also have a thriving colony of semi-feral catbois and girls here on the farm to keep assorted vermin and nuisances in check. Some of them are very friendly, but they all might bite or scratch with out warning, so make sure you have a good hold on the scruff before you mount one! We are now approaching the end of the livestock portion of our tour. If you would like to become livestock, you're in luck! We're always accepting applications to abandon the life you knew to live here on the farm. If you want to become one of our centaur laborers we offer short term, long term, and lifetime contracts. And if you'd like to take some livestock home, we hold auctions every Sunday! Whether you're looking for a fresh faced filly, some mommy milkers, or a proven breeding bitch in her prime, we have a wide variety of offerings every week. Be sure to come early for the Meet'n'Greet'n'Fuck brunch before the auction starts.

Moving forward we're approach what put Hellhound Farms on the map, our Living Latex trees! Our unique Living Latex is perfect for so many applications. No drone suit is more comfortable and permanent. Just add a helmet and you're set! Tired of being made of meat? Frail, fallible, delicious meat? Our expert dollmeisters and toy sculptors are standing by to give you the Big Dip and give you the Ultimate makeover! You can become the slutty fuck doll you always knew you were today. We also offer inflatable and onahole options. And once we're done, it's off to the showroom to wait for your future owner to buy you. Or, you can be your own toy and work off you debt as a public use plaything at one of our Hellhound Farms amusement parks or one of our stand alone Latex Love stress relief booths around the world! If you're interested in the classic silicone bimbo look our teams of jab masters are ready to plumpen lips, pump up tits, and thiccen that ass with our silicone alternative Living Latex injections. It's safe, it's soft, it wobbles like jello when you slap it. Whether you want to augment your assets or leave humanity behind, Hellhound Farms has what you need!

And Hellhound Farms needs YOU! Today! No application will be refused! Can't make up your mind? Headmates disagreeing on what to become? Good news! We have timeshare and multi-platform options on all our contracts. What's an extra decade of servitude if you're doing what you love?

#PHGposts

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rearranged-fanfic · 3 months

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I AM BACK TO ONCE AGAIN SCREAM

so like. please start paying rent. rearranged cant just live in my head rent free forever. i beg of you. it has me in a chokehold. i have been unable to think of anything but the next update all day. waking up? rearranged. breakfast? rearranged. meeting up with a friend? rearranged. resting? rearranged.

i held myself back last time to read two chapters at once. i am suffering my own hubris of eating your fic up too fast.

im in love with your writing style??? how will i explain this to my fiancé.

i mean this in the most kind way possible, thank you for my suffering.

Hello, my delightfully vocal friend!!!

I am afraid that I am a poor fanfiction author, so I must pay rent using updates for my fanfiction instead of money. I hope that this agreement is amenable to you. If not, I'm sure that we can come to an accord that is beneficial for both parties.

In all seriousness, I'm super glad to hear that you're so pumped up for my fanfiction. It's wild to me that it's evolved into the absolute monster that it has in such a short time. To be far, it also consumes my every waking hour. Except it's more "Oh god, I need to put this in my outline" or "Did I remember to put *insert character here* into that one scene?" Lol. So it also lives in my head rent free. Oop.

be careful saving up chapters. Lol. They long (RIP my hands). You'll be reading for ten hours if you're not careful 🤣

It's nice to hear that you're in love with my writing style!!! Like... I always feel like I ramble on like a toddler with ADHD, but apparently people like WAY too many details? And unconventional sentence structure?? And when Reader-chan ruminates on the morality of *thing* for six paragraphs???

You can always introduce your fiancé to the story so that you can introduce the idea of a triad? IDK. Triads are a thing IRL, right?

Thank you for suffering for me. As your semi-regularly scheduled sadist, I feed off of your pleasurable misery. Lol.

As always, much love! Stay safe out there, and don't get caught by animal control if you keep screaming.

❤️❤️❤️

#REARRANGEDfanfic #ask response #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x oc #behind the scenes

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mlobsters · 7 months

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supernatural s10e17 inside man (w. andrew dabb)

why are y'all's bedrooms so far apart? say it's downright miraculous what with the time in hell etc, if dean (or sam) aren't regularly having screaming night terrors.

so we're all gonna lie about everything, all right

SAM All right, well . . . It's playing in Wichita, so I might not be back till morning. DEAN Well, I trust you. Make good choices.

what a weird thing to say.

little freckle appreciation with the blood sigils

small cuteness with dean pranking sam's room. except the toothbrush in the armpit :S gross, dean-o

this entire conversation between cas and hannah, i'd turned off captions so i thought he said "anna" and i was so distracted trying remember if anna was dead or not i missed the whole thing lol

laughing semi-hysterically at yet another surface product placement (this is the third at least and i know i point them out but i can't fucking find anything with tumblr search. i knew at least one was with charlie so i had to go find posts on her episodes, to find the post with microsoft and surface, both which returned bupkis in the search I HATE YOU. it's like posts aren't indexed, can't site:search them either -- EDIT I FUCKING FOUND IT because i was looking up this ep for 10x18)

it's silly but it's a little weird pet peeve i have that tv people with short hair never touch it even if it's somewhat reasonable that when you have junk in your hair you don't wanna touch it. i have my hands in my hair constantly (better i mess with my hair than bite off chunks of skin hey hey) so i recall seeing gifs of this moment like hallelujah (but i figured actually it was on a gag reel because when do characters ever do this? NEVER) anyway. all to hustle some pool and look a little disheveled haha

and a wink at the bartender ok

CASTIEL I'll break it down. SAM Dude, dude, dude. Chill. CASTIEL What? I'm helping.

haha that could be his tagline. what? i'm helping 🥺

so dean is bored and wants to start some shit so he's gonna hustle these dudes in the least subtle way possible and maybe if he's lucky he'll get to beat some people up?

always here for the bonus competency (i had to search the wiki for scenes dean was playing pool in a later season so i could figure out what fucking episode tag to put in my blog search [9x17] because searching for "competency" "rack" "racking" etc no. *incoherent rage*)

oh, dean.

BOBBY Hell, I'm already dead. What's the worst that could happen?

shut your mouth, bobby!

pretty shot. i like how the knife is reflecting a little strip of light on his face. and he's all anger ball up top and very carefully cradling her head lol

ROWENA You're a good influence on him. That's why you need to die.

lol okay. not the grudge against the men of letters and wanting to get whatever shit they have stashed away in the bunker. can't remember really at all what that episode was even about that they were together in

BOBBY Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.

no escaping the mob or the winchesters

ANGEL RADIO The Bobbys are fighting back. All hands. We need all hands. They're surly. I repeat, the Bobbys are surly.

this is so ridiculous :p what is dean up to with crowley

CASTIEL Dean doesn't know we're doing this. BOBBY Well, that's a page right out of the Winchester playbook, ain't it?

it's funny because it's true

CROWLEY She says I've gone soft. DEAN You have. What? Yeah, maybe it's all the human blood that Sammy pumped into you, you know? Maybe it's, uh . . . I don't know. I don't know. But the old Crowley, he would have come in here with hellhounds and demons, and he would have blown the roof off the joint. Now? You didn't want to fight. You wanted to talk. And maybe I've changed, too. Here I am playing Dr. Phil to the King of Hell. Never saw that coming.

waiting for a hug, relive the good old times. so i'm getting more reunited exes vibes than i ever got of boyfriend vibes from their brief fling during demon!dean times

CROWLEY Because . . . We're family. Blood. DEAN That's not the same thing. A wise man once told me, "family don't end in blood," but it doesn't start there, either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there through the good, bad . . . all of it. They got your back . . . even when it hurts. That's family. That sound like your mother?

you know, i am enjoying this weirdly sincere interaction but doesn't really mesh with where they left things off with the blade debacle

stop it, bro.

sticking with the ass-tiel, still got a laugh from me unfortunately

METATRON Oh, I'm afraid I am. I know about the Mark. I have your Grace. I make the rules. It's called leverage, boys. Learn it, live it, love it.

he's not live laugh loving getting his grace yoinked and being shot in the leg

:p goofy

BOBBY’S VOICE “Sam . . . So, this is weird, huh? Look, I just wanted to say that Cas told me what you're doing for Dean. And I'm not asking you to stop, but maybe going behind his back ain't the best idea. Your brother, he can be stubborn. But I think he'd understand. And I know it's the life, doing a little bad so you can do a lot of good. But sometimes the bad's real bad and the good, it can come at one hell of a price.

that's putting it lightly. anyway, i'm glad we're getting someone to tell him straight and plain to one of their faces, to stop fucking going behind each other's backs. and giving them the benefit of the doubt that they'll understand if you explain.

I ain't there on the ground, and whatever you do, I know you'll make the right choice. You're a good man, Sam Winchester . . . one of the best. And I'm damn proud of you, son.

takes a little emotion out of it when all i can think is You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 10x17 #andrew dabb

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strawberrywindow · 2 years

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the jen and emil train is still going strong in my mind, strong enough that i pumped out a fic woohoo. no idea if this will be in any way canon compliant or in character by the time we see the show but it was a fun thing to write regardless.

jen and emil have a chat the day before the trial is to start. thanks for reading if you do and i hope you enjoy!

----

When she steps through the heavily armored doors into the holding room he’s already standing, waiting for her in his containment cell with a smirk plastered on his face as usual. She sighs quietly as she continues towards him without pause; she’s figured out by now that any hesitation gives him an in. A sign that it’s apparently an appropriate time to belittle and mock her. Resolution has the opposite effect. Or close enough to it that he becomes slightly less obnoxious than usual. After all, he’s standing to greet her now, isn’t he? A far cry from several weeks prior when every time after her initial visit she had entered to find him slouched in the chair in the middle of his cell, pretending not to notice her until she was right in front of the glass. If he was in a particularly pleasant mood he might even pretend not to hear her the first two or three times she said his name, only to finally look up at her with an expression just a bit too smug to be as neutral as he intends and murmur out an “Oh, sorry, darlin,’ didn’t see you there.”

The standing is definitely an improvement. The constant smirking and incessant need to call her by names anything other than what she’s asked, that being Ms. Walters or Jen, if he must, would also be nice changes to see but she isn’t in the habit of asking for miracles and she doesn’t plan on starting just because Emil Blonsky has an incredible talent for getting under her skin. She comes to a stop in front of him, reinforced glass and lasers between them. She offers him a wry smile before greeting him.

“Good morning, Emil.”

“Mornin’.”

“Did you have a good evening?”

“What do you think?”

“I assume it was much the same as most of your evenings.”

“Got it in one. Now, I see why they’re payin’ you so well.”

“Oh, is that why? And here I thought they might just be compensating me for putting up with you.”

He barks out a laugh at that and shakes his head, turning away and starting to pace around his cell. She tries to hold back an amused smile but it’s rather difficult. Something else she has learned is that Emil appreciates a person who isn’t afraid to toss jibes right back at him, at least when he’s in a good mood, and he tosses them out quite frequently. She hadn’t really known what to expect when first meeting him, but somehow a man with a penchant for striking with words as skillfully as he did fists had not been anywhere on the list. She follows him around the outside of the cell, keeping pace with his meandering.

“So what do I owe the pleasure of your company, hm?”

“Oh, a pleasure, is it?”

“Always.”

“Mmhmm. I’m sure.”

He snickers at that and she shakes her head. He’s recently started up this little custom of his in the past few weeks they’ve been working together. He knows very well what she is here for, today more than any, just as he knew yesterday and the day before. But he insists on drawing out her stays and leading her down pointless little side conversations before they arrive at the true topic. She thinks he may be lonely; although she knows he would never admit that to anyone. But she can’t imagine that he isn’t. Wong and herself. The various guards and scientists tasked with keeping an eye on him, which don’t really count. So two people to see semi-regularly and have relatively personable chats with. Not much of a social life. It makes her feel a bit bad that she can’t stay very long today. There’s a lot to prepare for. She clears her throat and he looks up at her.

“The trial starts tomorrow.”

His smirk falls at her change of subject and he stares at her intently. She stares back for a moment before continuing.

“I need to go over a few things with you. Just to make sure you feel as ready as possible.”

He’s crossed his arms now and rolls his eyes, scowling and clicking his tongue as he continues pacing, agitated. She sighs and resists the urge to roll her own eyes. Evidently, the idea of skipping their usual banter today is not a popular one but a tantrum is very unnecessary.

“Emil. Can we talk about what we need to do?”

He ignores her.

She bites her tongue and swallows back her irritation. At this point, he’s most definitely trying to get a rise out of her and she refuses to take the bait. She keeps a few steps behind him now as she follows him around the cell, letting him sulk. Moments like this make her pray for the trial to be finished already. Regardless of outcome, she won’t be needing to see him anymore once they’re done and she is incredibly thankful for that. Most of the time. Other times she regrets to say that she almost thinks she’ll miss him a little. Like the other day when he had remembered she’d mentioned she and Nikki would be going to an event that past weekend and he’d asked how it was with genuine interest. Or the time she’d walked in to find him working on a puzzle. When she asked what the picture would turn out to be he’d muttered that it was of a beach that he’d gone to as a child. Wong had apparently brought it in for him. Times like that. Although, she always wound up reasoning, basic politeness or nostalgia for one’s childhood were not necessarily signs of any deeper moral shiftings in her client. He was merely as human as anyone else and prone to the same occasional sensitivities. She’d do well to remember that. Of all people to develop a soft spot for, the Abomination of Harlem should be beneath the last consideration.

She sighs again and picks up her pace to fall in step with him again. He continues to ignore her. She ‘hms’, and considers. As much as she hates giving in to his moods, if she’s going to make any progress today she’s going to be forced to yield somewhat. She looks over at him where he resolutely keeps his gaze fixed on his feet as they continue walking.

“Do you want to talk about something else?”

“Not with you.”

Liar.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“There isn’t one.”

“Ok, then can we talk about the case?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, you don’t really seem to want to do that.”

“You don’t know what I want.” He growls out and glares at her, finally pausing his circling.

“No, I guess I don’t.” She answers back cooly and looks away again. Not quickly enough to miss the barest flicker of regret on his face. She probably imagined it, and not allowing herself to dwell on that a second longer she dives into the briefing she’d planned on how they needed to go forward with tomorrow. Emil resumes his walking and listens without speaking, without affirming, without acknowledging that he’s hearing her at all. When she finishes, she waits patiently for a moment to see if he’ll bother responding. He gives her nothing. What is wrong with him today?

“Do you have any questions, Emil?” She asks, trying to maintain professionalism through her irritation.

“Did I ask you any, luv?” He snarks back nastily.

“No, but you’ve been feigning deafness half the time I’ve been here today so I thought I’d better make sure just in case your stubbornness somehow actually succeeded in making your ears not work.” She snaps right back.

Emil takes a half step towards her, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He’s breathing heavily but his expression is still surprisingly reserved. She hasn’t pushed him too far then. He lifts a hand, finger pointing at her. He’s shaking, she realizes. He hasn’t acted like this since their first meeting. When the idiot had smashed his head into the ceiling of his cage after he’d attempted to transform and intimidate her. It had worked up until he’d grunted in pain and stumbled, rubbing his head confusedly and glaring at the metal roof. Moments like that are others that she thinks she may miss if only for how absurd they are, and she shakes her head, giving the furious man in front of her a small smile.

“Emil…”

He glares at her a moment longer, teeth clenched, but he lowers his hand and steps back. She implores him to calm down, still trying to offer that gentle smile. He doesn’t return it but he does avert his eyes and return once more to his pacing. He puts his hands behind his back and clasps them. She thinks he’s still shaking. Tentatively, she falls in step with him again.

“No questions, then?” She asks dryly.

He snorts and ignores her again. She’s about to call it quits and tell him to have a great rest of his day but he surprises her when he breaks the silence first.

“Do you like movies?”

“...Huh?”

“Mo-vies. You usually watch them on a telly? Maybe at a cinema if you’re feelin’ extra fancy.”

“I know what a movie is, Emil.”

“So do you like them, then?”

“I guess so. Who doesn’t?”

“Borin’ people. Your louse of a cousin probably hates them.”

She ignores his comment and also ignores the cheeky grin he shoots her way. She wouldn’t be able to not tell him off for bad mouthing Bruce if she didn’t and that would be a guarantee to set him off far worse than he’d just been. She doesn’t let his grin fool her. The quickness of his change in subject and the barely concealed venom in his voice every time he mentions her cousin is all she needs to see that the anger from a moment before is merely simmering under the surface. He’s building up to something, although what, she doesn’t know. Mercurial bastard.

He waits to see if she’ll give him any reaction and when she doesn’t he continues.

“You ever see that one - uh, ‘Silence of the Lambs?”

“Of course. It’s a classic.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

He clicks his tongue at her again and turns to face her, stepping backwards as he does, arms spread wide.

“You don’t see the similarities?”

She looks at him standing there, ugly orange-blue jumpsuit hanging off his lanky form. Arms open, eyes wide and looking at her eagerly. He grins at her, all teeth.

“...Are you comparing yourself to Hannibal Lecter?”

His grin widens and he leans forward, placing one arm behind his back and waving with the other, wiggling his fingers at her.

“Helloooo, Jennifeeer,” he croons, leering at her.

She scoffs and now it’s her turn to cross her arms.

“That was terrible.”

“Oof, tough critic.”

“So, I’m Clarisse?”

“You didn’t get that from the quote?”

“I don’t get the comparison.”

“Come oooon, this cell’s pretty spot on to the second one he had, no?”

“Maybe? You don’t really have much in common with Dr. Lecter though. Unless this is your way of telling me we need to write up a defense for you attempting cannibalism?”

“No. And come on - you don’t see it at all?” He urges her, head cocked to the side. He watches her as she thinks up a response. His eyes are wide and urging her to answer yet for all their expressiveness they hold all the warmth of a shark circling an unsuspecting swimmer. His still prominent grin adds much to the analogy. She meets his cold, expectant gaze and shrugs to hide a mild shiver.

“Maybe a little.”

He seems satisfied with that answer and hums softly. He points to her and resumes his pacing. He’s not usually this restless and she wonders if he’s not more nervous for tomorrow than he’s letting on.

“See. You, though. The similarities are much more apparent with you.”

“With me and Hannibal?”

“No, you’re Clarisse!”

“Oh, right.” She sighs out. So much for leaving early today. Blonsky’s going to make sure he gets to talk to her until he’s satisfied. “She also gets paid to put up with a dangerous, high-profile criminal?”

“She gets paid to betray him.”

Jen is careful not to let her mask of non-reaction slip at this seeming accusation. That’s what he wants and she’s not going to give it to him. He watches her expression, eyes flicking around looking for even the most minute sign that he’s gotten to her. Finding nothing, he straightens up, and walks toward her. He’s grinning still, nearly baring his teeth at her, all sharp angles and tense muscles.

“She was just doing her job.” She responds slowly.

“Well, we’re all just doin' our jobs, no? That doesn’t stop us from fuckin’ up.” He continues stalking towards her. “I was just doin’ my job. And look where it got me!”

He stops in front of her, bending forward, face an inch or less from the glass. The red glow of the laser to his left plays on his features. The light makes the gray in his hair stick out more as it absorbs the vibrant color. She thinks he would really hate it if she told him that.

“Your cousin was just doin’ his job. And look where it got him.” He spits out the words this time, the bitter resentment that often enters his voice when he speaks of Banner, as he’s often wont to refer to him as, not even attempting to be hid by humor this time. “Worked out so well for him too, no?”

Yes, actually, she thinks, it did. In the end.

Emil has an awful habit of assuming everyone around him is secretly just as miserable as he is and it is getting very tiring. This affected posturing is ridiculous and she has no idea what he’s getting at with this stupid comparison. She meets his gaze steadily, arms still folded, letting him know she’s not at all impressed by whatever this is. He ignores her.

“And you’re just doin’ your job. So, tell me, how’s that goin’ to work out for you? Pretty well no matter the outcome, right? This is a career makin’ case for you, isn’t it? No one would fault you if you failed. You have an impossible defense to create. They’ll applaud your efforts regardless!”

Oh. Oh. He is nervous, she realizes with some surprise and she almost laughs. Of course he would find the most discomforting and roundabout way to ask her if she thinks they actually have a shot at getting him off. She keeps her face neutral and puts her hands on her hips as she steps up to him and answers smoothly, aiming to comfort.

“I’d like to think I’m better at making the right choices when it comes to my job than maybe some people have.”

He stands straight and glares at her but he’s struggling to hide the look of hopeful unease he gets whenever she attempts to speak to him with no pretense but kindness. If he ever knew how to speak tenderly or accept when someone spoke to him as such, the knowledge has long since left him and it leaves him in a state that he has no idea how to handle. Vulnerability is weakness and worse than that is the sickening desire to give in to that vulnerability. At least that’s how she thinks he feels. For as much as he attempts to hide his true feelings around her, the intensity of his emotions makes it a rather ‘impossible defense’ of his own design.

“Do you, now?”

“Of course. And besides, we’re shooting for a bit more freedom than just a transfer to a VA hospital, aren’t we? I’m trying to get you better than a gilded cell with a view. And I’m planning on delivering on what I tell you. No tricks. You can give me that over Agent Starling, can’t you?” She gives him a grin of her own as she uses his metaphor against him, attempting to ease the tension still present in his stance, the wariness in his eyes. If he doesn’t even believe himself that he has a shot, no amount of careful case prep-work or sleepless nights creating air-tight arguments will help him. He frowns and looks away from her for a moment before locking eyes with her again.

“You really think takin’ my case was the ‘right’ choice to make?”

His tone is cold and overly harsh. He’s playing up the anger now. It helps to cover those weaker emotions he’s so disdainful of. If he knew how well she was able to pick up on all of his little mannerisms now, she thinks he’d never want to speak with her again. The realization that she could see through the cracks in his protective shield would horrify him. But just because he doesn’t know she knows doesn’t mean she can’t use that knowledge to get him to react how she needs. She maintains perfect eye contact with him and gives the warmest and most encouraging smile she can.

“I do.”

His expression falters and he almost takes a step backwards before he attempts to steel himself once more. His eyes are flicking about her face again, anxiously this time, almost desperate to find the confirmation he wants that she is lying to him in some way. That’s much easier to accept than the alternative. She keeps her expression friendly as she raises a questioning eyebrow at him. He stops at that, catching himself and settling back into the comfort of his own superiority. He huffs out a breath and puts his hands on his own hips, smirk fixing itself firmly back in place.

“Well, then I guess we’d better hope that you're better at makin’ those kinds of career choices than I was.”

Believe me, she thinks with an internal grimace, I’m doing more than hope.

#she hulk #she hulk attorney at law #jennifer walters #emil blonsky #abomination #marvel #mcu #fanfiction

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dradityasharma-1 · 14 days

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Exploring Penile Implant Options: Solutions for ED - Best Endo Urology Care

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alkalinewaterpoint · 2 years

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8 Causes Of My Reverse Osmosis Water Is Cloudy And Their Fixes

Have you ever noticed your reverse osmosis water is cloudy? If so, don't worry - you're not alone. This is a common issue with RO units and can be caused by several factors, including improper installation or maintenance. Still, fortunately, there are also several ways to fix the problem. This blog post will explore the possible causes of cloudy reverse osmosis of water and how to clear it up. Stay tuned!

How Does Reverse Osmosis Work?

According to epa.gov drinking water holds unsafe levels of contaminants. It can cause health issues, such as gastrointestinal illnesses, nervous system, or reproductive effects. So it is most important to drink pure water regularly. Reverse osmosis is a water filtration system that uses a semi-permeable membrane to remove contaminants from drinking water. RO unit uses a pressure pump to force water through the membrane, which acts as a barrier and only allows pure H2O molecules to pass through. The contaminant is left behind in hard water and flushed into the drain line, and filtered water is piped into the storage tank. Water softeners have several stages of water treatment, including a sediment filter and activated carbon filter, which reduce chlorine, total dissolved solids, and other common contaminants.

Why My Reverse Osmosis Water Is Cloudy, And What Can I Do About It?

The most common causes of cloudy RO water are: - Municipal water supply - Faulty semi-permeable membrane - Algae or bacteria growth in the storage tank - Air bubbles in reverse osmosis system - Improperly installed membrane and filter system - New water filter - The water is too hard - Other reasons for cloudy water 1. Inadequately filtered water from the municipal water supply Unlike a water filtration system, do not remove 100% of the impurities from water. It's essential to ensure all cloudy tap water has been filtered before starting the RO process. Don't worry; this is not as difficult as it sounds - many modern city water supplies use a combination of filters and disinfectants to remove harmful microbes. Suppose your municipality is somewhat antiquated, or you find that cloudy water persists despite flushing. In that case, you can install a sediment water filter on your kitchen faucet. 2. Faulty semi-permeable membrane

A faulty membrane can cause water to become cloudy due to small particles that cannot pass through the filter. If the membrane is not functioning correctly, microscopic particles may get trapped on its surface. Over time, this can cause the bottled water to become cloudy from all the tiny bits of material that could not pass through the filter. Suppose you are seeing cloudy water after consuming RO filtered water. In that case, it may indicate that your membrane is not working correctly. If the problem persists, we recommend having water filtration systems checked to ensure all filters are in good condition. 3. Algae or other bacteria growth in the storage tank If your system includes a storage tank, algae and other bacteria can grow inside if they aren't eliminated by the sediment RO filter. Algae or other bacteria can grow in the storage tank and become cloudy. If the water is murky, there may be bacteria present. If the water appears green or foul smelling, it may also be contaminated with algae. Water testing is essential for bacteria and algae before using it. You can prevent algae or bacteria growth in the storage tank by draining and cleaning it regularly or installing an ultraviolet light in the storage tank. 4. Air bubbles in reverse osmosis system Reverse osmosis systems need between one and three liters of clean water to flush the system after each use. If your tanks are less than half full, the water may not be enough to push all of the trapped air bubbles out of the process. This can lead to cloudy Reverse Osmosis water quality. Fortunately, this is another easy problem to fix - just fill your tanks halfway and wait about half an hour before using the system again. 5. Improperly installed membrane and filter system

This mistake is one of the most common causes of cloudy RO water, and it's all too easy to make if you're not careful during installation. For example, it's essential to have the correct type of faucet installed with an air gap between the RO system and the spout; otherwise, contaminants will be forced back into the water. The filter housings must also be connected properly, or they'll leak unfiltered hard water into the storage tank. 6. New water filter The new RO water filter can cause water to be cloudy when you first use it. This is because the filter has not yet had a chance to adjust to your drinking water parameters. After you've used the filter for a while, the filtering process will become more efficient, and the resulting water will be more transparent. If the water is cloudy, try running it through a filter cartridge again or using bottled water until the filter adjusts to more transparent filtered water. If it still appears cloudy, you may need to replace the filter or contact the plumbing service professionals. As the table shows the time when you need to change the RO filter: Filter TypeChanging TimeSediment Filter6-12 MonthsCarbon Filter6-12 MonthsReverse Osmosis MembraneEvery 24 MonthsPolishing Filter6-12 Months *Filter Schedule will vary based on local water conditions, water hardness, and household usage. 7. The water is too hard In the affluent, this cloudy is represented by a transparent scale. The water filter cannot be utilized indiscriminately in certain regions. This is not to say that your filter is not so efficient, but it depends on water quality. The water quality may be frequently hard (too many minerals) in some regions and cloudy (too much turbidity) in others, resulting in a transparent scale. The effluent contains this because of the hard water quality. It may be difficult to remove, but it is preferable to soften the water with water softeners before filtering it with a water filter. You can quickly know the hardness of your water with the table below: Degree of hardnessCalcium carbonate: Milligrams per literCalcium carbonate: Grains per gallonSoft0 - 600 - 3.5Moderately hard60 - 1203.5 - 7Hard120-1807 - 10.5Very hardMore than 180More than 10.5 8. Other reasons for cloudy water. Although less common, cloudy RO water can also result from low water pressure or high temperatures. If you think this is the case, it's best to contact a professional fitter for assistance.

You Can Do A Few Things To Reduce Or Prevent Cloudiness Altogether.

Reverse Osmosis filtration has issues due to improperly filtered tap water or membrane damage, ensuring all aspects are working to solve the problem. - If you have a storage tank, install ultraviolet light to kill any bacteria that may cause cloudiness. - Another option is to install a simple soft water filter on your faucet. This protects the system from contaminants and total dissolved solids and reduces any sediments in the water supply from the source. - In addition, make sure you thoroughly flush your RO system after installing new filters or changing its operating temperature. - If you're unsure how to do this, follow the system's manual for specific instructions. - Remember that you should never clean the RO membrane with acidic or harsh chemicals because they can damage the RO filter beyond repair. - Your RO system should produce clean water with just a little maintenance and patience.

How Can You Tell If Reverse Osmosis System Needs Maintenance Or A Replacement Filter?

If your water softener produces cloudy water, you should check all components. The RO membrane and water filter cartridge might need cleaning or replacement. However, you'll also need to look at your setup and ensure no water leaks into the storage tank.

Is There Anything Else I Should Know About Reverse Osmosis Drinking Water?

When you run RO water flow through a filter, it removes dissolved minerals and other compounds that could potentially benefit your health. Add an additional water treatment stage to your RO system, like a dissolved mineral filter, to get these minerals back. This can produce pure water quality that is tasty but more nutritious.

FAQs: Why Is My Reverse Osmosis Water Cloudy?

Is reverse osmosis water good for you? RO water softener is actually a better option than cloudy tap water. It's free of any contaminant or dissolved solids. It doesn't have the added fluoride and chlorine that municipal soft water supplies do. However, it's also devoid of added minerals and can lead to health issues like dehydration if not replenished. If you want to add minerals to your RO water for health benefits. In that case, you can use a dissolved mineral filter. How long can I store cloudy RO water? Generally, it's best to use cloudy water for non-consumable purposes, like watering plants or cleaning. It's not safe to drink immediately, but after letting it sit for a day or two, it should clear up. Is the cloudy reverse osmosis drinking water safe? There's always the risk of bacteria in cloudy RO water, so it's advised to rerun the system until it becomes clear. If you can't wait or your tank is full of cloudy water, it's best to avoid drinking it. Run the tank empty or clean reverse osmosis water filtration systems whenever possible before using the pure water again. However, cloudy water may also result from low RO water pressure or high temperatures. If this is the case, you can correct the problem by contacting a plumbing service for assistance. Is cloudy RO water a sign that I need to replace my membrane? The membrane may have reached the end of its lifespan. Still, it's also possible that you dislodged some sediment during installation. If the RO membrane isn't under warranty, it's probably best to replace it. However, if you have a warranty or plan to keep the system for a while, try cleaning it. If that doesn't work, you may need to replace the membrane. The following video explains the steps to replace RO membrane and filters: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvtMM9s2Fuk

Conclusion

If you have doubt, why is My Reverse Osmosis Water Cloudy? The issue can be caused by several factors, including improper installation or maintenance, but there are ways to fix it. You should check all components to see if your Reverse Osmosis filtration produces black water. If you can't wait and do not find the solution, it's best to avoid drinking it and contact a professional. I hope this article was interesting and valuable to you! Read the full article

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