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fayes-fics · 1 month ago

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Right In Front Of You

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Sometimes, the thing you most need is right in front of you...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal fingering, smidge of dirty talk, orgasm. Friends to lovers, only one bed.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: Request fill for @eecummingsandgoings, who asked for only one bed trope with Benedict. Thanks to the awesome @colettebronte for beta reading and for the title suggestion! This is a seasonal-ish fic set in early December. Enjoy! <3

“You guys are so late!”

Melanie draws you into a bear hug after her fond chastisement.

“Blame this one,” you roll your eyes and signal a thumb over your shoulder to Benedict as he wanders up the path behind you. “He was supposed to be on map-reading duty after we ran out of phone signal.”

With a big smile, he mimes being stabbed in the chest before he receives a welcoming embrace as well.

“He’s been shit at directions since uni; why the hell did you have him navigate?” she chimes, taking your coats as you peel them off and hanging them in the hallway cupboard.

“Because you have experienced his driving,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, good point,” Melanie guffaws.

“Starting to take this personally now,” Benedict pipes up with a good-natured chuckle as she ushers you both further into the cottage.

“This is nice!” you comment as you survey the place.

Its snug warmth is like an enveloping embrace on this cold, early December day. It's an Airbnb rental in the Lake District and looks suitably rustic but modernised with an open-plan layout—a perfect venue for a uni friends reunion.

“Well, I'm afraid you two are so late that everyone has already nabbed the good bedrooms,” she announces. “You will have to share the other attic room, two floors up.”

“I'm sure we will be fine,” Benedict blithely responds.

“It's only got one bed,” she cackles.

“Bagsy the bed!” you crow, turning to look at him triumphantly.

“Fine, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

While chivalrous, it also seems fair payback, given that he got you so horrendously lost on a single-track country lane, going miles in the wrong direction. Sharing the drive up from London was supposed to take about five hours, not the almost seven that it ended up being by the time you eventually got back on the right road.

Leaving your bags in the hallways, you greet and join the gaggle of friends in the living room area, crowding onto the sectional sofa and beanbags. Melanie, always the mother hen of the group, stands across the room at the kitchen island, stirring a huge casserole dish that smells delicious.

“Alright, you bastards, come and get it,” she calls not long after you settle.

So, all twelve of you decamp to the long table, and drinks flow as you tuck into a hearty, tasty stew. The group have come without their spouses or other halves, except Dave and Andrea have been together since the second year and are still going strong more than ten years later—well, and one other exception.

“Matt brought Vanessa?” you comment into Melanie’s shoulder while conversation flows in little groups.

“Yeah, I know,” she winces. “Sorry…”

“No, it's not that. I just think it’s a bit odd. She’ll have to endure so many old uni tales and in-jokes all weekend. She’ll have little idea what we are all on about…”

Matt is your ex, yes, but you broke up almost a year ago now. You didn't get together until five years after uni, and in hindsight, you wish you never had. Vanessa is his first girlfriend since your breakup. You've been alone since—the only singleton left in the group.

“Drink up,” Melanie advises sagely, refilling your wineglass almost to the brim. “They have the other attic bedroom that backs onto yours, and even though the stone walls here are thick, I've heard rumours she is a loud one.”

“Urgh…” you take a large gulp, not savouring the idea of hearing your ex and his new woman having sex through an adjoining wall.

The rest of the evening passes pleasantly: wine flowing, a lovely time as you all catch up and trade stories. Jon recounts a hilariously disastrous holiday in Portugal that ended happily with him meeting his current partner Simon on the plane home, which earns him a round of applause.

The first to turn in is Matt and Vanessa, and not long after, others start to yawn and make their excuses, the drive from various corners of the country taking its toll on everyone.

Benedict grabs your bag as well as his, you trailing behind, making your way slightly gingerly up the second, narrower, steeper staircase to the attic rooms.

“I guess this is us,” he notes, nodding to the only door without a faint lamp glow leaking underneath.

You follow him into the room as he dumps the bags and flicks on a sidelight. It's not big but it’s homely, if a little chilly compared to downstairs, heated by the fireplace as it was.

“Ben, you can’t sleep on the floor; there's a draught,” you remark as you sit on the bed and pull off your fuzzy socks, a coolness wafting over your toes.

“I’ll be alright,” he assures genially, opening the wardrobe to gather a pile of blankets.

“And there's not much room,” you assess, realising the floor space is minimal unless he lays near the chimney, likely the source of the problem. “Seriously, we can share.”

An odd expression clouds his face briefly before he agrees and quickly excuses himself to the bathroom. You do the same after he returns. He is already under the covers, peering at his phone through reading glasses when you shuffle back into the room in your PJs.

“Are you sure about sharing?” he checks as you round the bed to climb into the other side.

“Yes, you idiot,” you chuckle, playfully swatting his leg through the duvet. “Nothing for Paul to worry about,” you add in jest, referring to his boyfriend of over two years now.

He goes so still that you twist to look at him. He is biting his lip with an almost sheepish mein.

“We, umm, broke up about a month ago,” he elucidates quietly.

“God, I'm so sorry; why didn't you say before??!”

It strikes you as odd that he never even mentioned it in the hours you were stuck in the car together. He had just sat dutifully, supplying supportive words as you lamented the dating scene.

“Well, you’ve been away travelling…”

“I meant today.”

“Oh, well, I guess I didn't really see the point, seeing as everyone has left their plus-ones at home,” he shrugs, then tilts his head back. “Well, apart from that idiot,” he adds, referencing Matt through the wall.

“Yeah, I thought that a bit odd he brought her… but anyway, do you want to talk about it? Paul?” you offer, wanting to give your good friend the opportunity to vent.

“Very kind,” he smiles briefly. “But no. I'm sick of talking about it, to be honest. Daph has been non-stop trying to agony aunt the situation, and Eloise has been plying me with alcohol and barbs about all of my terrible life choices, not just Paul,” he grimaces mildly.

You chuckle, knowing exactly how that has likely been going.

“You know he just brought Vanessa to make you jealous, don't you?” Benedict changes tack, keeping his voice soft even though it's unlikely to carry through the thick stone wall.

“Maybe,” you hesitate, then sigh: “I'm over him and his nonsense, to be honest.”

“You were always far too good for him.”

“Hah!”

“I mean it,” he insists, an abrupt intensity to his gaze that causes butterflies.

There’s no point denying your attraction to Benedict; he's a very handsome man. But it's always felt like a harmless crush; you doubt you are his type, and he’s not been single for many years.

“You are just trying to butter me up before you take over the whole bed like an octopus and snore in my face,” you deflect with humour.

“You never could take a compliment, could you?” he chastises gently, taking off his reading glasses and setting aside his phone.

“Please, I would never take any compliment from you seriously,” you riposte dryly. “I knew of your charmer reputation from the very first day of uni. Everyone did. Your Bridgerton reputation preceded you.”

“Entirely unfair to be tarred with the same brush as my lothario of a brother,” he sighs with mock burden. “I mean, yes, okay, at uni, I was a little…”

“Slutty?” you interject

“... adventurous..” he corrects with a narrowing of his hazy eyes, “but nothing like the rumours suggest. I just got with a couple of raconteurs early on who vastly overstated my abilities and skills,” he demures.

You know the truth is somewhere in between the polyamorous, bisexual playboy reputation and the modest version he is claiming.

“Besides, that was years ago,” he points out with a dismissive gesture. “I've had a total of five lovers in the last ten years.”

It is indeed true. Before Paul was Tilly, Tessa, Gen and Henry. He’s been surprisingly monogamous since his earlier, sluttier years.

“Ready to sow your wild oats again?” you ask, bumping him lightly with your shoulder.

“Hah!” it's his turn to scoff.

Just then, a distinct female moan filters through the wall. When it happens again, your eyes dart to each other.

“Oh god, Mel warned me this might happen,” you grumble, burying your head in your hands.

“Told you,” Benedict clucks. “This is definitely designed to make you jealous.”

“Pfft, please. Believe me, he's not that good; she's just a really vocal one, apparently.”

For some reason, you are keen for Benedict to know Matt is not the best you've had. Not bad, but not exactly worthy of the decidedly rousing review Vanessa is now giving through the wall.

“Want to beat him at his own game?”

His face is all permission and danger, making your pulse race, uncertain about what that could mean. But then he breaks into a goofy grin and throws back the covers, athletically jumping to his feet on the bed next to you, looking equal parts adorable and attractive in navy tartan pyjama bottoms and a dark grey t-shirt. He takes a few test bounces, the metal springs of the bedframe under the mattress squeaking mildly in protest as he does so.

“C'mon!” he coaxes, grabbing your arms and hauling you upwards onto your feet. “I think with a few bounces and choice noises, we can make our point.”

Perhaps it's mostly the three glasses of wine, but it seems like a funny idea. You both start to bounce, grasping each other's hands and giggling, the bed beginning to rattle against the adjoining wall as you work up a jumping pace.

“Make it sound like you are having the time of your life,” he proposes, laughing.

Your attempted noise of pleasure has you flushing with embarrassment at the feeble result.

“Oh, I know you can do better than that!” Benedict incites, eyes glittering with mischief.

“I really can't,” you protest.

“Follow my lead. I’m not above a touch of theatrics,” he winks.

Benedict groans loudly, and despite the absurdity of the situation, it makes something run hot and electric through your body. He peers at you expectantly, awaiting your rejoinder.

You cringe as, once again, your second attempt is lacking.

“Loosen up,” he rags lightly before repeating his very distracting noise. “C’mon, just imagine I am the best sex of your life.”

Your traitorous mind finds it remarkably easy to settle on that idea. Supplying a vivid picture of Benedict looming over you, a beguiling lopsided grin on his face as he takes you apart with long fingers buried between your legs. Just the thought has you biting your lip, but not before a feral noise escapes entirely without you meaning it to.

“Oh yes, that's much more like it,” he looks slightly taken aback but entirely approving. He leans in close as he requests: “Just a little louder.”

Then with a grin, he turns to face the wall and pounds his fists onto the thick, rough stone.

“Yeah baby!!” His decidedly Austin Powers-like call echoes up along the ceiling as he tilts his head back, going fully theatrical.

“WE GET THE FUCKING HINT, BRIDGERTON!!”

Matt’s muffled, annoyed yell through the wall has you exchanging looks before collapsing back down onto the bed and rolling around in fits of quiet giggles.

“Well, it worked… I don’t think you were much help at all, though, if I’m honest,” Benedict opines breezily. “I definitely did the heavy lifting.”

“Perhaps I’m just not a loud sex noises person,” you posit.

“Then you haven’t been having the right sex. Which, given you were dating Matt, is sort of a foregone conclusion,” he needles genially.

“Not all of us are Vanessas… or apparently Benedicts.”

He laughs heartily before countering: “I bet you could be. I’d happily try to have you screaming the roof down if I thought you’d ever bloody let me…”

It's a record-scratch moment that has your stomach flipping even as outwardly, all you do is scoff at the patently ridiculous idea. He must be kidding. He has never given you any vibes of being remotely interested in you in that way.

“Let you?! Bitch, please. As if you’d want to!” you rebut, wine stealing your filter.

He turns towards you, seemingly in slow motion, breathing slightly heavy from the recent exertion, his cadence dropping low with words that sound like a warning.

“Don't play that game.”

“I’m not playing any game,” you frown even as your heart speeds up at the challenging glint in his eye. “Ben, honestly, I… I'm not,” you stutter, all your assumptions about him scattering. “I… I didn't think you saw me that way…”

He twists up to hover over you. It appears he reads the honesty behind your stilted words, surprise rippling across his features before a breathtaking, troublesome look takes its place.

“You never could see what was right in front of you, either, could you?”

Although rhetorical, you have no response anyway. Buffering as his lip quirks appealingly, a burst of heat behind your ribs as he leans down closer.

“Will you let me?”

“Let you what?”

Your whispered response is entirely too breathy and wanton. A delicious crackle in the air as Benedict stares down at you, inches apart, lips and cheeks flushed dark, likely a mirror of your own.

“Test your theory.”

The slow sweep of his glistening tongue over his lower lip breaks your resistance.

“Yes…”

Your shaky exhale of permission may be barely audible but seems so loud to your own ears.

And suddenly, his mouth is on yours.

The kiss starts soft and almost hesitant, but alcohol and desire coursing through your veins make you impatient, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to tug him closer, craving his weight and heat to engulf you. And that is what he does as his lips part yours, his tongue seeking permission you readily give as he presses you into the mattress. It’s a blur as you take from each other greedily, open-mouthed, demanding kisses that never seem to end.

“I need to hear you make that sound again,” he rumbles, kissing over your cheek, snagging your earlobe between his teeth, breath gusting hot into your neck.

Boldly, you grab his wrist and, throwing all caution to the wind, guide it lower between your legs. His fingers curl into the cotton, sinking into the heat, knowing you are seeping through the thin material.

“Are you always so wet?” He whispers, impressed, kissing a line over your throat.

You don’t answer, not wanting to say that it’s all him, instead pulling him in for another searing kiss, hoping he will get the hint. Sure enough, as you suck greedily on his questing tongue, he slowly swipes, locating your swollen clit with just one move. Just that slight nudge has your body alight, stuttering into his mouth, spine arching up off the bed, pushing your breasts into him.

“I want to make you come,” he admits breathily, dilated pupils trained on you as you squirm under his touch.

“Please do.”

His groan is poetic, an insistent mass nudging your hip promisingly as he leans into you. You glance down, mesmerised by the veins on his hand as he moves to pluck at the bow at your waistband until it relents. His touch spiders under the material, trailing through your trimmed hair and then between your legs, a delicious noise in the back of his throat as his bare fingertips slide into your wetness.

You want to ride his digits until you are screaming, want them buried in you so far you see stars. Want him to make you suck your juices from between his knuckles, him calling you all the filthy words under the sun as you do so.

“Whatever you are thinking of, tell me,” he pleads, his other hand sweeping into your hair, cradling the back of your head, a slight pull on your scalp that just heightens everything. “I just want you to use me. Take what you need from me; just please make that perfect noise again.”

“God Ben….” You stumble, never having had someone make such an offer before. So much pent-up desire you are quaking as you answer without artifice: “I was thinking of your fingers inside me.”

You don’t even have to ask him for it, he twists his wrist, and you moan as two fingers breach your weeping pussy, a slick noise filling the air as your body suctions onto his invasion. He utters a curse, perhaps taken aback by just how soaked you are. You inhale sharply, grasping the corded muscle of his forearm as he slides deep, his knuckles grazing your walls, reaching places you cannot.

He begins to softly stroke you, massaging in a rhythm that has your mouth slack, staring at him wide-eyed; then his thumb nudges your clit at the same time, and you are unable to prevent the loud staccato groan it elicits.

“Yessss, there it is..” he hisses triumphantly, kissing your temple.

You nuzzle his cheek until he takes your hint, kissing you again, plundering, you making the noise again, open-mouthed, against his teeth and tongue, dripping onto his palm as he takes you higher, an electric hum racing under your skin. His thumbnail catches deliciously under your clitoral hood as he strums your swollen nub. Somehow it feels illicit, both of you still clothed in your nightwear, a tented outline in his pyjamas nudging your hip as you shamelessly ride now, a dewyness gathering inside your tank top at the flush of desire enveloping your skin..

“Come on, sweet girl,” he goads, “ride my hand properly. Use me.”

That term of affection would usually make you bark a laugh, but right now, it’s just blisteringly hot, him wringing the most filthy sodden noises from your body as he rocks in and out of your pussy.

So you do.

Scrunch your grip into the duvet beneath you and undulate on him, baring down as he surges inwards, moving like a wave together as he makes noises of encouragement, his lips warm on your cheek. His eyes don't leave your face except occasionally to glance down your writhing body, gaze lingering on your nipples pebbled against your vest.

His feet entwine around your ankle, holding you down just a little bit, giving you just a little fight that you need, reading you like a book. With a nod and lopsided smirk, he silently bids you to keep going. And you do, getting overheated, chasing that high he is aiding and abetting.

“Don’t hold back,” he tutors silkily into your damp temple, intuiting that you are swallowing back some of the noises you want to make.

So you follow his bidding. Stop modulating yourself, letting go, leaning into the simmering in your body, each perfect glide of his fingers spiralling you so high it's almost dizzying, your desire running down between your cheeks now. Something daring in you wants to be louder than Vanessa. To make the whole house jealous. Hell, for the entire world to know how good this feels.

He angles to catch your g-spot as well, and it hurtles you rapidly over into the blissful abyss; unable to stop yourself from spasming almost violently, screaming out, him fighting against your convulsions as you fracture apart and reassemble, breath stolen, blood pounding in your ears. You float both high above yourself and grounded in your body as that wondrous quake spreads to every corner of your being.

“That was bloody perfect,” he exhales, a thread of pride etched into his tone as you collapse down, heaving breaths as he withdraws from inside you.

“WE GOT THE FUCKING HINT EARLIER!!”

Matt’s yell through the wall makes you both still, eyes going comically wide before you both start giggling. Benedict lands a kiss on the tip of your nose as he rolls on top of you, his rigid cock nestled against your inner thigh.

“Well, that just sounds like a challenge to me,” he quirks a seductive eyebrow. “Let’s give them something to really complain about…”

Then, without warning, his soaked fingers yank down the neckline of your vest, his warm lips suctioning onto your nipple, and you are calling out loudly once more.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt 1 : @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette

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daddysfangirls-marvel · 2 months ago

Text

Polyamorous: Inexperience pt.1

*Bonus*

Stucky x fem!reader \ Steve Roger x fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Warning: Smut, fluff

Polyamorous Material List

(Y/n) didn't bother knocking on the door, going straight for the hidden key and unlocking it. Already familiar with the apartment, she tosses her jacket on the back of the armchair and going into the kitchen. " I'm so sorry I'm-oh" (Y/n) quickly turned around and covered her eyes. " I'm sorry, so sorry".

"Okay," Bucky said as he helped Steve off the kitchen counter and they adjusted themselves, fix themselves. But still with flush faces, swollen lips, and ruffled clothes it was very clear what was happening. That and Steve didn't adjust himself as well as Bucky.

"I'm sorry I'm late my father kept me at the store."

" It's alright, dinner is still warm." Bucky said as he pulled out a chair for her. Steve took his seat quickly trying his best to hide his 'situation'. " Beef Stew and biscuits."

"Bread is fresh I got it from the bakery this morning." Steve said doing his best not to make eye contact. Bucky went to dish out the bowls.

(Y/n) reached across the small table taking his hand in hers. He looked up at her. "Thank you, it smells wonderful. Thank you for all of this." Steve flushed not knowing how to take the praise.

"How you're mom doing?"

"She's well, doing much better . They've recently assigned her to the tuberculosis ward. The pay is higher but the hours are longer too." The new risk was unsaid.

Steve's mother, Ms. Sarah, was a nurse and had been jumping between wards for as long as one could remember. She always went where help was most needed. While everyone thought her very admirable it was also very scary. They feard that one day she'd pick something up from one of her patients and not be able to shake it or worse give it to Steve who had a very weak health.

"She'll be working late tonight. I've already set aside some dinner for her," Bucky said as he placed the bowls on the table and returned to the kitchen.

" My father thinks I'm having a sleep over with Rebecca. Hope your sister doesn't mind being my excuse, Bucky."

"She loves you and will tell any lie you need." he said as he placed three wine glasses on the table. The two looked at him confused as he produced a bottle of wine "Pinot Noir, franch "

"where did you get that? you can't afford that."

"Well forunately for us darling this fell off the back of a truck"

"You stole" Steve moved to scold him.

"No, it literally fell off the back of a truck. I wasn't going to waste it." Bucky defened himself as he popped the cork" Don't we deserve some luxury. Something fancy for once." he pours a glass " Plus, when will any of us ever be able to afford a bottle of wine like this. We can barely afford the cheap stuff. Please, enjoy it now."

He passed the glass to Steve. He sighed and took it while glaring he brings the glass to his lips and has a sip. " Taste expensive."

(Y/n) giggled, Bucky fills her glass. He finally sits and all three of them raise their glasses. " A toast?"

"yes, A toast to us and to now. To always being together." Steve said

"We three may never part" (Y/n) said

" Damn right" Bucky cheered.

After dinner, the three moved themselves to the front room. Bucky and (Y/n) found themselves lost in their book, him on the floor and she on the couch, with Steve sketching them while a radio played softly in the background. He is on the couch with (Y/n).

(Y/n) was so engrossed in her book that she fell to notice when Steve abandoned his sketch and moved to read over her shoulder. Bucky watched in amusement for a few minutes as the two cuddled up to each other without even realizing it.

They curled up to each other, becoming closer and closer with each turn of a page. He also noticed how flushed each of them were becoming. Interesting.

"Whatcha reading?" She snapped the book shut, and Bucky couldn't help but laugh at how stunned they both looked. They looked like a pair of kids who got caught doing something they definitely shouldn't have been doing. "Okay, now you have to show me." He stood up and approached them, holding his hand out for the book. (Y/n) held the book close to her chest.

"It's just a book."

"An interesting book."

"What makes you think that?"

"How you cling to the cover, your flushed face, Steve's bulge." Steve quickly moves to cover his 'situation.'Bucky grinned as (Y/n) sighed and passed him the book. She moved to hide her face in a pillow as Bucky flipped through the book. " Let's see what's got you two so red."

"Bucky," Steve pleaded

" 'I should …really...get back to work.' Levi said in between her kisses but made no attempt to stop her or move her off of his lap. OH . Untying his tie she tosses it on the other end of the couch and began to unbutton his shirt as her lips moved to his neck hoping to mark her territory."

"Okay, that's enough." (Y/n) stood up and tried to take the book from him, but he held it above her head.

" he groaned as she choked on his - " the book was ripped from his hand and tossed across the room before he could even read ahead. He was shocked as he looked at her "What the fuck?"

"Sorry, I just -sorry."

"It's okay, I was just teasing. I'm sorry."

"I overreacted."

"You think." That earned Steve a pillow to the face. Bucky sat on the couch beside her. "where did you get that book anyway?" He asked

"Discount basket."

It took a moment, but the three of them began to laugh. They laugh hysterically for several minutes. Only stopping when they were finally out of breath.

"Getting dirty at a discount"

"Shush, Buck"

"Why'd you throw it?" he asked

"Wasn't a good read," she said, shrugging.

"Really, you seemed quite interested in it. Both of you."

" Mom won't be back until tomorrow morning," Steve suddenly said, gaining the attention of the two—one in confusion, the other in shock and joy. " we have the place to ourselves."

He took note of her confusion, and he began to stutter, " We-we could do it. Since we're al-lone."

Still confused.

"Sex. Steve is saying he's ready for sex."

"Oh," her voice reached a new pitch.

"We don't have to. Not really we-"

"Okay, I think I'm ready too."

They both turned to Bucky.

After talking some more in the front room, the three moved into the bedroom. Bucky took Steve into the bathroom to help him get ready, leaving (y/n) alone. (Y/n) had removed her dress and stockings and was now having an internal debate about whether she should take off her slip as well leaving her in her underwear.

She quickly lost her decision as the door opened, and the two stepped in, Bucky in his pants and tank top and Steve with a towel around his waist.

"Hi," she said

"hi," Steve returned.

Bucky sat at the desk, and Steve and (y/n) stood in front of him, waiting for instructions. Inexperienced students waiting for their experienced teacher.

" I want you two to be comfortable and enjoy this. You should experience each other first."

"You just want to watch us," Steve scoffed, crossing his arms

"Yeah, you're a perv." (Y/n) agreed.

"Sure am. Now put on a show for this perv."

And confidence is gone. The two just stood there for a moment, fidgeting. It was Steve who got the courage to make the first move, asking to kiss. Bucky watched as the two kissed, starting off as gentle and sweet before progressing into a more heated kiss. He took note of their hands (Y/n)'s hands, pulled at her slip, and hovered over Steve's chest. His hand gripped his towel. Both seemed eager yet afraid to touch.

"You can use your hands." He encouraged. (Y/n) was the first one to move, putting her hands on his shoulders. She pulled him closer before suddenly pushing him away. Steve had quickly thought he had did something wrong and stepped back further ready to apologize before he realized she was just removing her slip.

Quickly stepping out of it, she reaches Steve again and-

"What is that?" Bucky asked, interrupting and reminding them they weren't alone. They stepped back from each other. " What are you wearing? What is that?"

"My girdle?"

"When did you start wearing a girdle? I've never noticed."

" I've... I gained some weight in the back, and I've been having trouble...This slims me out." she kind of wished she kept her slip on now not liking where the attention was going.

"You don't need to slim out," Steve said. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you." She decided to keep the comments about how this beauty fit her clothes a bit too tight to herself. Now was not the time for that. Plus they couldn't help anyways.

" How about we take it off," Bucky said, motioning her over. As she stepped forward, he tugged on her girdle and was surprised to find how tight it was. Giving it a few more big tugs it finally came off. " Much better".

She gasped as he kissed her stomach, fueling the heat that was growing in her stomach.

"you should move to the bed."

"Okay." She moved to the bed, pulling Steve with her. She connected their lips again with far more eagerness than before, her hands feeling aimlessly against his flushed skin, gripping and pulling at anything she could get her hands on. Steve left himself to her mercy, letting her take whatever she wanted, simply breathing her in, accepting everything she gave, feeling the heat between their bodies.

"Take off the rest," Bucky called attention to himself. " If you want to actually do it, you need to take off the rest."

No longer shy, the two eagerly shed the last of their clothes.

In the year since their physical relationship began, the throuple had had several intimate moments that involved heavy petting, hands, and fingers and clothes. They had never removed each other's clothes. Some form of fabric was always between them.

Until now.

(y/n) stood shyly, chest red, nipples hard, and a wetness between her thighs that would have had her embarrassed in any other situation. But right now, she was busy eyeing Steve.

Steve stood more like a soldier, chin up, chest out, and head forward. Standing at attention, much like his cock. Which stood tall and wrapped. His stance was more so helpful with his heart rate and breathing. The moment (Y/n) removed her clothes, he lost his breath and feared he'd have an asthma attack before they could even start and ruin everything.

Bucky saw this, the way Steve was breathing through his nose and clenching his hands at his side, clear signs of fighting an oncome asthma attack. He decided to step in a bit more.

"Alright, Stevie, lay down." He was quick to follow instructions. Laying across the bed. Bucky took (Y/n)'s hand and led her to the bed. Helping her up and to straddle Steve sitting on his thighs. He sits next to them.

"Now listen, doll, I'm about to teach you something very important," he said to (y/n) as he kissed her nose. He then pulls a square package out of his pocket. She reaches for it, but he pulls it away. " What is is?"

"A condom?"

"Yes, and I'm going to teach you how to put it on Stevie here, okay?" she nods. " Mind being our test dummy punk." He leaned down to kiss him.

Opening the package, he hands it to (Y/N), and they handle it together. Him placing his hands over hers.

Steve gasped as they touched him, slowly stroking him. " Make sure he's tall and stiff for us." He moaned as they swiped his tip, which was leaking pre-cum. Bucky watched as (Y/n) sighed slightly, licking her lips. Something to explore at another time.

"And now, we're going to pinch the tip and roll it down." Steve closed his eyes tossed his head back and held his breath. They rolled it down all the way to the base and gave it a squeeze.

"Ta-da, you do so well," Bucky said as he leaned down, kissing Steve's neck. "Almost there."

He kisses (Y/n) neck. His fingers went down, and she gasped as she felt him touching her lips. She was more than wet enough.

"Are we ready?"

(Y/n) and Steve nodded nervously. He let go and stepped back, sitting at the desk again. They looked at him, confused.

"This is for the two of you. I'm just watching." Bucky said," Or I could leave and give you some privacy if you'd like?"

"NO" they both screamed.

"Please, no," Steve said, his breath starting to pick up as he sat up

"Please don't go. What if we do something wrong?" Syn said

" I won't go," Bucky said. " And do what feels natural. Follow your instincts and ask if need be. You'll be alright."

They two looked at him nervously, and he just nodded. They both turned back toward each other.

"Hi," they whispered to each other.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before lifting her hips. Steve gasped as she took him in her hands. She held her breath as she started to slowly sink onto him. Steve gasped as the tip slipped in the warmth, wetness, and tightness. (Y/n) whimpered as he slipped further in.

"STOP" Steve shouted breathlessly as he reached up, gripping her hips. " Fuck, please stop. I need to breathe."

"oh, oh no. Are you having an asthma attack? I can get off."

"No." Steve stopped her from getting up, gripping her hips tighter." I just need a moment to breathe. To catch my breath."

"Steve," Bucky spoke up. " You can stop here."

"No, I don't want to. I just need a moment, please."

"Okay, okay," (Y/n) leaned down, kissing his cheek. "Take your time."

Fortunately, he only needed a few minutes before he thought himself read (her thighs were starting to burn). She sunk the rest of the way down, taking all of him. Steve whimpered and dug his nails into her hip.

"Can I move?" (y/n) asked

"God, yes, please, yes." closing his eyes and tossing his head back.

She did as told. Slowly, she started going up and down, bouncing on him and moaning softly. She leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of his head. She continued to bounce. The sound of moans and skin slapping filled the room.

The site, the sound, Bucky couldn't help himself as he slipped his hand into his pants, finding his already leaking cock. He bit back a moan as he began to stroke himself as he watched (Y/n) start to bounce faster.

" I -I want a kiss," (Y/n) asked, still bouncing on Steve." Please, can I have a kiss, Stevie?"

He opened his eyes and-

"NGH ahhh"

He came.

The site of her leaning over, face and chest flushed, breast so close, and then further now where they were still connected. Yeah, he came in an instant. (Y/n) stopped.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm so sorry. I don't- I didn't-"

"That was a pretty face," she suddenly said, and it was. It made that feeling in her stomach tighter and warmer. She wished it lasted longer, that she had taken a picture of it, and that he'd done it again.

"Shit" They both looked up to see Bucky slumped down in his seat with a hand down his pants and a large wet spot formed on his pants.

(Y/n) started to sit up and remove Steve.

"Doll, did you finish?" Bucky asked.

"Um, no. But that's okay. A friend told me girls can't always finish like boys." (Y/n) just shrugged it off.

"No." Bucky removed his hand from his pants and approached the bed. He pushed her back down on Steve's cock, making his whimper" Stevie, this right here" He took his hand and put it right on her clit. "Rub it in circles."

(Y/n) yelp as he touched it and moaned as he began to rub it in circles. That warm and tight feeling in her stomach started to return. Steve whimpered as he felt her tightness around his already sensitive cock. He began to rub faster as he felt the need to come again. With the tightness surrounding his cock and Bucky whispering in her ear to make her come, make her come on his cock, treat her good. Be Good.

He was coming again, and she was coming this time as well. She moaned as she collapsed on his chest, arching her back nails digging into his chest.

"How was it?" Bucky asked as he watched (Y/n) dap the small cuts on Steve's chest. After being spent, Steve quickly gave in to exhaustion, leaving Bucky and (Y/n) to clean him up.

"It wasn't what I expected," (Y/n) said as she helped Bucky lift Steve's hips, putting some boxers on.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good. It was really good."

#avengers #avengers fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel #stucky fanfiction #stucky x reader smut #stucky x reader #stucky smut #stucky #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x steve rogers #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #smut

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pretty-toru · 2 years ago

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Recently I've been thinking about how Gojo would introduce his non-sorcerer s/o who's completely unaware of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery about that part of his life. And he'd maybe start by explaining his blindfold or black-out sunglasses.

I'd like to think that he still sometimes forgets about the small things and shows up at your doorstep in his teacher's uniform paired with his blindfold after a tiresome day of work. You've never really seen him outside of his sunglasses and casual attire and Gojo has kept the details of his profession hidden from you for good reason. Now he's less careful about his appearance since he feels ready to reveal more about himself that's "otherworldly".

Besides, Gojo thinks that it's easier to break the news about how he's part of the Big Three Clans, inherited this special pair of Six Eyes, and he's the Strongest Sorcerer who exorcises curses for a living AFTER you've fallen so hopelessly in love with him that you'll choose to stay with him no matter. (You'd probably flat-out reject him if you knew from the beginning).

So when you answer the door doing a once over of a strange and tall man dressed in dark clothing with his eyes covered sporting a wide grin upon seeing you, you're almost wary as you keep the door open enough just to see out.

"...Can I help you?"

"I've had a long day, sweetheart. Aren't you going to let me in?"

"???" "Sorry? But who are you?"

"Ah, right right. Gimme one second." Gojo then removes the cloth obscuring his eyes and his soft white hair cascades over his forehead as he switches to his sunglasses and you suddenly realize that the stranger is indeed your boyfriend. "You know, I'm actually hurt you didn't recognize me because I'd know you anywhere, angel."

You're dumbfounded as you lower your guard and Gojo enters your apartment and places a kiss on your pretty lips, commenting about how something smells amazing and asks what's cooking for dinner while he unzips his outerwear and tosses it on your couch. But you're still dazed about what just happened and it felt too weird to simply gloss over the fact. "Hang on, aren't we going to talk about what just happened?"

"Hm? Talk about what?" Gojo feigns perfect innocence, making his sweet way to your cabinets and drawers to retrieve two plates and utensils after observing the table hadn't been set yet.

"Your blindfold? And what you're wearing?" Your hand is placed firmly on your hip with a skewed expression, gesturing the wooden spoon in your grip that was used to stir the pot of beef stew at him.

"It's my work uniform. The blindfold is part of it."

"I'm confused, I thought you were a teacher? How are you able to see in that?"

"I'll tell you all about it once I have some of your delicious food in me, okay hun?" Gojo's quick in his stride to set the dishes in their rightful places before he's gently cooing your suspicions away and leading you back into the kitchen with his hand on the small of your back. "C'mon I'll help you finish dinner then I'll answer your questions. I promise you."

You deflate with a sigh. "...Okay."

After enjoying dinner, Gojo helps you clear the table and with all the promises he makes to you he earnestly keeps. He's quite sure you'll come up with more questions than you already have as he's slowly but surely eases you into his world as a shaman — his way of telling you that he’s serious about you. Gojo loves and trusts you enough to reveal all the parts of himself to you in due time, and he can only hope that you'll wholeheartedly accept him in his entirety.

#you really decided to give the goofy sweets loving guy a chance and turns out he’s a pretty big deal in a secret society #gojo wearing his special glasses indoors is another thing early in the relationship #he'd say something like his eyes are sensitive to the light and you just nodded yet still skeptic #but once you learn all these new things about him everything slowly starts to make sense #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

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notfreetoday · 1 year ago

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MPW Ep 2 Subtitle Corrections

Subtitle Corrections: Ep 1 here

Cultural/Language Tidbits: Ep 2 here

Same translation disclaimer applies. Thanks to everyone reading the first post and geeking out with me in the notes, I really appreciate it XD Ok, Ep 2, let's go! Sorry in advance for the length!

If you're wondering why Yoh's freaking out about the rainy season even though they've been together for 3 years, the manga artist posted a clarification on twitter:

By the way, “it’s been 3 years since then” – that phrase refers to it being 3 years since that conversation regarding the slave contract. As for living together, they’ve only just started (to do so) around Mar/April*, so (at this point) it’s only been a few months (for them). What if (I) got it wrong…. I remember making a note of it, but the file that I wrote it in and passed over (to the crew) couldn’t be found right, so… (was it) a dream?” *Japan's rainy season comes around June/July, so this means that this is the first rainy season these two have been experienced together.

[Y: まずっ] Y: Tastes bad In case the original "that sucks" sounds like Yoh might be talking about the news of the young forecaster - he's really just talking about the food here.

[S: 遅くなるからいらねぇっつっただろう] Original: I told you not to bother since I returned late Mine: I told you I wouldn't need it cause I'd be late right? This is actually a pretty harsh sounding line tbh. It's sort of inkeeping with Segasaki's curtness, but still pretty harsh - so this tells us he's tired after a long day, and explains the frown on his face that Yoh just wipes away with his cuteness

Nikujaga literally means meat and potatoes. It's a stewed dish and a very well-loved comfort food. Super easy to make too (link goes to an easy to follow recipe, and the site also explains a little about the dish).

[Y: 本当、顔だけはいいよな] Y: Really, it's only his face that looks good.

I've talked about this in my cultural/language tidbits for this episode (linked up top) but I'll add it here for completion's sake

[Y: あ、いや。なんでもない…です*] (Ah, iya, nandemonai…desu*) Y: Ah, no, it's….nothing* Yoh let's his sentence trail off before tacking on a "desu" at the end. "Desu" is an ending verb characteristic of "polite" speech, which Yoh doesn't use frequently with Segasaki (in fact, by this point, he has not used polite speech with Segasaki at all, except for maybe saying the full form of the word "welcome home", and even that's pushing it). Here he adds it at the end as an afterthought (the polite form of "iya" would be "iie", if he had wanted the whole sentence to be polite from the get go), which tells us that Yoh's feeling a little off-kilter here, and does introduce the slightest distance between him and Segasaki. We'll see this distance increase as the episode goes on.

[Y: いや、どう考えても食べ過ぎだろう] Y: No but, no matter which way you look at it, (he's) eaten way too much hasn't he? Btw, if your hair started standing at the spoon scraping the pot - in the manga artist's post about visiting the shooting venue (as well as during Ep 1 twitter space) it was mentioned that Mashiko, the actor, can actually cook, so during filming they had to tell him what someone who can't would likely do, and also asked him to do the housework poorly (because Yoh's not supposed to be good at cooking or housework hahaha)

この人*、明日も朝早いんだよな。たぶん。 Original: This guy, has an early morning again tomorrow. Probably. Mine: This person*, has (to leave) early tomorrow morning too. Probably. *The word here is "kono hito", literally "this person". There's actually nothing wrong with the translation "this guy" tbh because that's a fairly neutral term in English, but I'm highlighting it here because in his monologues, Yoh usually refers to Segasaki using much rougher language, such as "koitsu, aitsu", except when he addresses Segasaki directly in his head. I'll talk more about how Yoh addresses Segasaki in the analysis post, but for now - this sentence hints that Yoh has clocked Segasaki's tiredness (subconsciously or not) and is feeling a little bad for him. Then again he quickly hides that by adding on "probably". (Adding the word "probably" behind your sentence is a common way to express doubt/negate what you just said, and incidentally is commonly used by comedians to deliver a punchline).

[Y: あの*…あの…寝るなら部屋でとおもって。] Original: Um… Hey… You should go back to your room. Mine: Um*... Um... if you're going to sleep then, (it would be better to sleep) in your room - at least that's what I thought...

*"あの…" (ano…), translated as "um" here, is a common sound you use when you want to get someone's attention but don't want to sound too demanding - it actually isn't being polite per se, but it does show the hesitancy with which Yoh approaches him. Contrast this with the way Segasaki gets Yoh's attention (so far it's just been "Yoh" or "Oi" - the latter of which you would NOT use unless you were close to the person, or looking for a fight).

As a general rule of thumb, the level of politeness in Japanese is directly correlated with the length of the sentence and just how far you can beat around the bush. So, Yoh's suggestion that Segasaki goes to sleep in his room is literally just "if sleeping, then room..." and everything else in that translation is assumed. He may not being using polite speech forms here (that would be "to omoimashita" instead of "to omotte") but this is still a common way to be polite because he's making a suggestion that is so mild Segasaki can choose to ignore it. This is a great example of Brown & Levinson's "negative politeness" which we'll revisit when analysing their speech patterns, and which you can read about in entirely too much detail here (free to read).

[Y: じゅあ、俺は寝るので** あの、その、そういうことで、おやすみ] Original: Then, I’ll go to sleep. That…sort of thing. Good night. Mine: So then, I'm going to bed, therefore**... Um... that... with that... night!

"Therefore" is an awkward translation for the word ので (node), which is more often translated as "so". I've chosen to use that word because "node", whilst again not a polite form per se, is less colloquial than the more commonly used "から(kara)", to mean the same thing. It tends to pop up more in writing than in speech. "Therefore" doesn't make a sentence polite/formal in English, but it's definitely less colloquial than using the word "so". The use of "node" is just that tiny bit out of place in this sentence paired with the informal pronoun "ore" for "I" as opposed to the more formal choice of "boku".

Again, Yoh answers Segasaki properly here with a "はい (hai)" as opposed to his usual "un" (which is a sound that expresses agreement), when told that Segasaki will be late again. There actually aren't very many moments where Yoh does speak politely to Segasaki (he's definitely rude when he talks about Segasaki in his head hahaha), so these moments stand out. This whole short exchange, together with the random -desu he added earlier, just make Yoh's sentences a little more stilted/awkward, and more distant. Individually they don't deserve much mention at all, but together, and in the context of his jealousy, show just how unsure Yoh is about where he stands with Segasaki.

[Y: あの人の帰宅が遅くなり] Y: That person returned home later and later

"That person" - similar to the above usage of "this person". This sentence is incomplete - the verb form of the last word - 遅くなり (osokunari) indicates that there should be a second part to the sentence (the "completed" form would be osokunatta). But after he says this, there is a pregnant pause, as Yoh puts his phone down and continues cooking alone. The pause continues all the way into the next scene, before the sentence continues, highlighting the loneliness that Yoh feels.

[Y: 当然、触れられることもないままに] Original: Of course, he did not touch me at all Mine: (and) of course, (I) remained untouched (by him) as well

The literal translation for this would be "(the situation in which I) was not touched (by him) continued on as well". Yoh uses the passive form of the word "touch", which places the emphasis on Yoh "receiving" the action of being touched as opposed to placing the emphasis on Segasaki "carrying out" the action of touching Yoh. Consider the difference between the sentences "I was hurt by him" and "he hurt me". The former is the passive form, and is super common in Jp, much less common in Eng. If this is confusing - welcome to Jp grammar just know that the emphasis of this line is more on what Yoh does not have, rather than what Segasaki has not done. It accentuates Yoh's feelings of emptiness and loss.

Y: すっかり日々は過ぎて Y: The days pass by completely ...

Similarly, this sentence is "incomplete", and is instead continued by Segasaki walking in and telling Yoh he'll be late again. (This whole bit just hurts my soul tbh, Yoh is so lonely. )

This is a teruteru bouzu aka a charm of sorts for good weather. See the cultural tidbits post for Ep 2 linked up top for more info!

This is said really strongly, and gives the "what the hell are you doing" feel. Yoh's truly upset here.

I try not to care about some of the subs in these side conversations because they don't add much to the main story and these posts are already too long, but this sentence should really be "Dammit, maybe I should (go) troll the chat" (and the previous sentence should be "If this was broadcasted in a certain country it would be instant death" aka N.Korea ^^;) and I just think it was a nice touch to hint at the fandom wars/flaming that goes on between fans hahaha

[Y: しんどい] Y: This is too draining The word here used is "shindoi", which is a term used when you're feeling mentally/physically exhausted/drained, and carries a sense of frustration (at feeling this way) and sometimes (emotional) pain.

This. Is. Huge. Segasaki does 2 things here - one, he rejects an after-work meal, which you rarely do because Japan is all about the group and rejecting a group invite, to welcome a new member, can make you seem like you aren't a team player - two, the guy who invites him is his senior, which you can tell because Segasaki sticks to polite speech forms whilst the other guy does not. It's still relatively casual, so you can tell he's got a good working relationship with them (probably why he's not worried about rejecting them) but still. In Segasaki's world, Yoh is the No. 1 priority.

This is more accurately "WTF". There are many sounds in Japanese that aren't exactly words, but carry a lot of meaning - "Haa?!" is one of them, and is a very rude way to express a lot of anger and shock. Please, never say this in real life. You will royally piss off whoever it's directed at and if you are outside a Shibuya bar you will get punched.

The word used here is てめぇ (temee), which is a really rude way to say "you", and has the same energy as "you bastard". Segasaki usually uses the informal pronoun "omae" for "you" when he talks to Yoh, he's definitely pissed off here.

This is the same word, "shindoi" again.

I'm going to put the rest of the whole argument here with just my translation because it's too long to screencap the whole thing.

[S: 何なんだよ？このエロい惨状は Y: ��るさい。 Y: 俺は売れっ子エロ漫画家になるんだ S: なんだそりゃ。おい *takes away beer can* Y: 売れっ子さんが　シコリながらネーム描くと　いいのができるって言ってた S: なんも描けてなかったぞ。 S: おい、だめだっつってんの S: 飲みすぎ　出すもん出して　寝てただけだろう Y: 黙れ！ Y: 俺はエロくて　抜ける漫画描いて　いっぱい稼いで Y: 早く　こんなとこ出ていくんだ S: はあ？　おい、お前　どういうつもりだよ Y: どうもこうもないよ！ Y: 平気で抱かれてると思うなよ。 Y: 俺のこと、好きでもないくせに Y: 便利な奴隷としか思ってないんだろう？そんなにやりたきゃ隣のキャスターとやってろよ S: お前　さっきから　何を... Y: 俺はあんな風に笑いかけられたことない]

Breakdown: S: What's up with this? This lewd disaster of a scene Y: (You're) annoying! ["うるさい (urusai)" is often translated as "shut up", but it literally means someone is being "noisy", and here is more of a complaint that Segasaki is being bothersome] Y: I'm going to become a hot-selling erotica manga artist! [the word used here is 売れっ子 (urekko), which literally means "someone who gets huge sales" and mostly refers to idols, entertainers, TV personalities etc. So Yoh is not just saying he's going to become popular, he's saying he's gonna be like a celebrity manga artist, which is why Segasaki snorts a little at this] S: What's with that? Hey. *takes away beer can* Y: The hot sellers say that if you jerk off whilst drawing your storyboard, you'll come up with good stuff [urekko-san is a pretty cute way of referring to these popular artists] S: You've not drawn anything, you know? [this is said with a really indulgent air, which contrasts directly with the more authoritative tone of the next line] S: Hey, I'm telling you no more *grabs beer can* S: You drank too much. You just shot what you shot and then went to sleep didn't you? [And this is back to an indulgent tone - also, everyone knows Segasaki is talking about cumming here, he just doesn't actually say it so directly] Y: Shut up! ["黙れ (damare) - contrast with "urusai" earlier. The former is used much less commonly and really does mean to "be quiet". This is why Segasaki pauses and looks at Yoh. Up until now Segasaki just thinks Yoh's gotten drunk and is whining cutely, but this word means things are serious.] Y: I'm going to draw manga that is erotic, that you can wank off to, and then earn lots of money [this is a call back to the conversation with Man-san over the phone in Ep 1, which I did not include earlier because I didn't think it was important to the story when Yoh says "the work that was released last month was amazing! There was a big buzz around the topic "I can't wank off (to this)" - Yoh was being sarcastic here, meaning that he got reviews that his work wasn't erotic enough] Y: and leave this sort of place soon! S: What? Hey - what (the hell) are you thinking? [Again, "haa?" here shows he does NOT like what Yoh's saying, but he does soften the end of the sentence with a "yo"] Y: I'm not thinking of anything! Y: Embracing me so easily - don't think you can (keep on) doing that [again, this is the passive form, so the emphasis is on Yoh being embraced, and here has the nuance of "don't think I'll just (keep on) being fine with being embraced (by you) like it's some sort of norm"] Y: when you don't even like me [this line has quite a bit of bitterness in it - the emphasis here is strongly on Segasaki and his apparent "non-liking" of Yoh my english is dying.] Y: You think of me as just a convenient slave, don't you? Y: If you want to do it that much, go do it with that forecaster next to you! S: You... from the start... what have (you been saying?) Y: I have never been smiled at like that before [again, this is in passive voice]

It's obvious from the acting alone that this entire argument is pretty emotionally charged - this is also reflected in the language because Yoh uses the pronoun "ore (I)" a lot. Pronouns are frequently dropped in Japanese - often you can go an entire conversation without ever uttering the words "I/me" or "you", in part because the pronouns are assumed and also because emphasis on an individual can come across as too selfish/narcissistic or direct. Segasaki uses them often enough with Yoh, which fits his personality, but Yoh normally doesn't. So, when he uses "ore" here it stands out - his plans to be successful and leave, his feelings, his interpretation of Segasaki's actions - all of the emphasis is on his own self. The message is very clear - Yoh is hurting a lot more than he is blaming or accusing Segasaki.

[Y: もう疲れた。あんたといると疲れる。嫌いだ S: お前　酒入るとめちゃくちゃしゃべるんだな Y: ねぇ、何で雨の時はだめなの？ S: はあ？　だって、お前が言ったんだろう] Y: (I'm) tired out. When (I'm) with you, (I) get tired. Hate it. [We've lost the "I" pronouns here, because the emphasis is on the extreme sense of physical and emotional fatigue as opposed to Yoh himself, and on how much he dislikes that feeling. Of note, "hate" here is closer to "detest/really dislike" - the word is "kirai" - which is not as strong as the word "nikui" which we talked about in Ep 1 when Yoh said he hated the part of him that always listened to Segasaki. Also, this is the first time Yoh has addressed Segasaki with the pronoun "you" out loud - he uses "あんた anta", which he also used in his head in Ep 1, after they did it. Again, we'll talk about this in the analysis post in the future, but for now just know that this term is usually used between older couples.] S: You... once you start drinking you really start talking huh? [literally, you "become able to talk"] Y: Hey...why is it when it rains, (we) can't do it? S: What? Because, you said so didn't you? [the last "haa?" from Segasaki! This time expressing his surprise and slight indignation.]

[S: 俺は優しいんだ] S: I. am. Kind. Great example of Segasaki's use of the "ore" pronoun here to quite literally emphasise how great he is. "優しい (kind)" in Japanese carries the connotation of being thoughtful, anticipating the other person's needs and wants and then meeting them etc. It's a characteristic that people often say they look for in their potential partners.

[S: そもそも、なんだ先の言いぐさは好きじゃないだの　出ていきたいだのお前　俺のプロポーズを受けといてよくそんなことが言えんな S: 養ってやる*っつってんだ　プロポーズ以外になに] S: In the first place, what was with those things you said earlier? That you don't like me, that you want to leave... You... that was rich, saying all that after accepting my proposal. S: I was saying I'd provide and care* for you. If that's not a proposal than what is? ["養ってやる" is a pretty possessive way to say I'll provide for you - it's the same word used when referring to parent providing for a child, or an owner providing for a small animal. It's not rude per se, but it does imply a power imbalance. Segasaki actually sort of has a point here because... this is not something you say to someone else unless you're in a relationship ^^;]

S: ていうかお前、俺のこと嫌いなんだ S: どうなの S: Actually about that... so you hate me huh? S: Which is it?

S: ふーん。あ、そ S: Ohh..? I see. ふーん (Ohh..?) - Segasaki says this a lot, especially in this episode. This is another one of those sounds that isn't a word but carries a lot of meaning. It has a dismissive sort of tone to it, like you've already assumed something or when you're pretty nonchalant/not impressed about whatever the other person has said and are just playing along with them by giving them some attention (so again, if you use it wrongly, it can piss people off). Segasaki uses it whenever Yoh goes mute or shy, as a way to tease Yoh - though Yoh seems to think Segasaki is dismissing/not interested in his answer. あ、そ (A, so) - again, Segasaki says this a lot - can be interpreted as "oh really?/I see/is that so?" - Combined with the above, you can see why Yoh often thinks Segasaki isn't interested in his answer, and even when he does recognise it as teasing, he gets too flustered to do anything about it.

This seems to have gotten longer, if you reached the end - congratulations! I hope this makes it a little clearer why it's so obvious to us as the viewer that Segasaki is really quite patient with Yoh, and is waiting for him to come to terms with his feelings, but at the same time so confusing for Yoh, because of the way many of these interactions can be read both ways. In Ep 3, we'll really be able to get into their dynamics because they've got so much more interaction together.

#my personal weatherman #taikan yohou #体感予報 #MPW subtitle corrections #mytranslations #finally got it out #doing a breakdown of the argument was very fun #this is like the most indulgent t/n ever #i am indulging myself the same way segasaki indulges yoh #thanks to everyone for reading my indulgent notes #please geek out with me more #these two are so perfect for each other #sorry I wanted to get Ep 3 and the analysis out before Ep 4 but it's not happening

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her-acts-of-cruelty · 8 months ago

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HIII i love eddie so much i have this scenario bouncing around my poor little brain about like him sitting out in the rain because he doesn’t want to be in the house and the reader who’s the neighbor that moved in after eddie went to jail and they like invite him inside and give him some soup and tea :-) give that man a nice cozy time. he deserves it

HI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAVE BEEN A BUSY LITTLE BOY!

I really liked the idea, I've done a little spin on how I thought Eddie deserved at least one friend who tried to help him. Am I exploring the concept of him being gay and leaving his wife for me? That's for me to know. I'm hoping this reaches the right audience, because I love men and men should love me too.

Also if you have more ideas you should send them. For chatacter ai bots or fics.

Synopsis: bringing an old friend in for a cuppa after seeing him get caught in the rain. Pre established friendship and !???

Cw: some language, mention of beer, but overall its tame

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

You'd never really had a significant reputation in Chadder. You drifted outside the community, maybe it was your age, but you never really felt close with the village.

Aside from Eddie that is.

You used to work next door to his garage, in the little shop. Passing each other each frosty morning turned into combining your routes. Your radiating presence most certainly a stark contrast from the long and dull day he had alone. So walking to work with each other soon turned into going for a pint together to celebrate the day.

You'd exchange stories, little artifacts from each others day. Sometimes there'd be gossip, things You'd over heard in the shop with the things his loose lipped customers would mumble as he worked on their cars. Other times he'd tell you about his kids, what they'd been up to at school and how proud he was of his growing girls. You two made it work.

That was, until he disappeared.

His incarceration was much to your surprise and it seemed you were the only one who had your doubts. You chalked that up to why the residents went a little quiet when you walked by.

Things became a lot slower without Eddie. Your routine had suddenly been lost, your source of the news gone- it seemed as though you were well and truly alone.

By whatever sick twist of luck though, five years had passed and Eddie was out.

Your stomach churned when you first lay eyes on him, your body unsure of how to react- so you did the one logical thing. You stayed away from him.

You avoided him like the plague, worried about all the stewing feelings that had blossomed in his absence. It ate up at you quickly though, the way his face dropped when you turned around and marched off made you wish you could choke up your insides and never dream again.

It went on like this for a couple weeks. Now that spring was approaching, the rainy season was in full swing. You hid in your house most of the time anyway, but hearing the sudden large rain drops on the windows made your expression drop. You bolted outside to grab your drying washing off the line that'd been put up in your front garden. As you cursed yourself, something out the corner of your eye stuck out.

Eddie.

Alone.

You bit your lip and brought your things inside, tossing them carelessly into a basket by the washing machine. The rain wasn't slowing down, its aggressive downpour had you praying Eddie had left that spot and rushed home.

When you checked out the window though, he was still slumped against one of the black metal fences- trying his best to smoke a drooping cigarette.

Your stomach did another backflip as you decided what to do. You couldn't just leave him there to freeze, could you? You got a few more curses out of your system before kicking off some shoes and marching into the rain.

"Eddie?" You called out as you approached him, the look of panic across his face told you all you needed to hear.

"(Name)- I didn't know you uh- it's raining why are you out 'ere?" He scrambled up off the floor, feeling sorry for himself as he came to his full height.

"Could ask you the same, what's going on? Shouldn't you be with the wife?"

He winced, "ah- its just a bit right now"

You nodded, watching him slowly get more soaked, "you should come back for a cuppa yknow, you're gonna catch your death out here like that"

He wanted to fight you, wanted you to know he belonged to be out here, fighting for warmth like the animal he is.

But also he wanted a warm cup of tea.

So he picked himself off the ground and looked down at you, expecting you to lead. You sigh once more and gesture for him to follow you back inside your house.

He kicks his boots off at the door and let his eyes wander the walls. It's almost like he'd left his troubles outside, the way a childlike wonder filled him. You hadn't changed much since he'd left, and he liked that.

You'd already made it to the kitchen, working on tea, "Eddie? I might have a few things of yours in my wardrobe soon if you want something a hit warmer to slip into?" His gaze left the walls and met yours, nodding softly, "Yeah that'd uhm-" "Where they usually are, help yourself," You gestured for him for him head upstairs.

A light must have turned on, maybe this was the first sense of familiarity he'd been allowed to chase

. Gentle footsteps made their way down the floor and the hulking man now standing before you in some grey joggers and tee.

"Thank you- you don't know how much it-" "I heard about what happened, I didn't know how to approach it," you blurted, your body clearly wanting to rid the words from it's festering wound.

He furrowed his brows a little, "is that why you've you've avoiding me like everyone else?"

"It's not like everyone else, you know it never has been-"

"Then what is it?"

"Eddie your tea is going cold-" you tried to shrug him off.

That wasn't the answer he was looking for, you saw it in the way his expression slowly sunk, "do you think I'm a monster too?"

"No! It's just- fucking hell Eddie, I just haven't been well without you." He slowly sat down onnthe couch at that.

Silence choked the room as you took the note to sit beside him. He pulled you close, fingertips caressing your side as he grabbed you. His head rested on yours and for a moment you felt... at peace? You're not sure what it was, but you sighed and got closer.

"You know I didn't uhm-" he tried to break the silence, an attempt to reassure you.

"Yeah I do, tried to get you proven innocent."

He didn't seem to surprised by the notion, "thank you."

#barry sloane #Eddie wells #Eddie wells x reader #Eddie wells x you #Passenger #Vessel writes

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vprosper · 24 days ago

Text

Still no account, but another snippet of this big ass fanfic below!

A bit more details this time;

it's going to be a slow burn (enjoy the over 80 pages folks...)

in the story/snippet , you just learned to read (why hello harsh childhood)

This part comes after 'Size doesn't matter'

-----

Bodyguard

The following days, you found yourself traveling with Clive to Northreach. Each on a chocobo, you made quick work on arriving at the Veil. You were fine with staying there, but Clive had assured you it was too noisy over there. So instead, you stayed at an inn just outside the city. “A room for me and my bodyguard.” You said to the innkeep. You found it hilarious that you pretended to be a wealthy merchant that needed Clive as a bodyguard. He still had his Branded tattoo, as Clive insisted the other cursebreakers where to go first with the procedure. You were actually on a trip to buy more supplies for it. But anyone would've been fine, so you were not sure why he asked you to come with him.

“The Branded can stay in the stables with the others.” The innkeep replied, assuming you wouldn't want him close during the night.

“On the contrary.” You replied with a fancy accent. You even bought some fake jewelry for the occasion. “He can sleep on the floor in my room. He's my bodyguard after all.” You didn't even spare him a glance, and you easily convinced the innkeep to allow the bearer to join you in your suite.

“As you wish ma’am.” He replied, handing you your keys.

“Quite convincing.” Clive spoke up the moment you locked the suite door behind you.

“Don't worry, I'll sleep on the floor.” You said, feeling sorry for the treatment he'd gotten the past days. Like your father treated you, Clive was still being treated every day. You didn't need an explanation on why the world had to change. Another valid reason to stay and help out in the Hideaway.

“No it's okay. You should sleep on the fancy bed. I already have one at the Hideaway.” Clive replied, trying to convince you. You wouldn't call that bed of his fancy.

“You know, I've read about this trope.” You said, sitting on the bed. Clive looked at you after he put his sword against the wall. “Yeah that's right, I've moved on from the children's books.” You were proud of that.

“I'm not sure where you're going with this. You booked the room.” Clive replied.

“You asked me along though. This bed is big enough for the both of us, and you with that tattoo would never get your own room.” You observed him, looking straight at his blue eyes.

“...” His eyes widened, as it dawned on him what you were getting at. When he was little, Jill was more into romantic fantasies than he was. She would often tell him how the two love interests got together. “I can assure you that I did not ask you along to end up in bed with you.” Clive defended. He had to admit that he might've entertained the thought the first day when you cooked that stew, but it had been years since then and valued your friendship more than anything. “Okay. In any case, you sleep on the right.” You say rather commanding, as to not show you were nervous. You trusted Clive with your life, but had never slept in the same room as a man. Clive just nodded, taking off his cape.

“The shops have closed by now, so let's take it easy and have a good night's rest before doing what we came here to do.” He said seriously, gladly changing the subject

Odd. I already thought we were leaving late. Is he trying to take it easier for once?

“Alright.” You said, taking off your boots.

I can do that. I'll just act like normal and we'll be on our way tomorrow.

You undressed, leaving on your shirt and smalls. You took your book from your bag and settled under the blankets. Clive undressed as well, leaving on his pants. “You don't need to keep that on because of me, that's probably uncomfortable.” You said, looking at his back. It surprised you how you were so casual on this. It was just Clive after all.

We're both adults here. This is no different than sleeping outside with Dio and Trevor.

“It's fine.” Clive just said. Maybe you made him uncomfortable, you realized. You shrugged, and got back to your book. It was a fantasy story about magical rings. “You got quite into reading.” Clive commented after he got under the covers, seeing you furrow your brows and staring intently at the pages.

“I promised Harpocrates I'd practice every day. This book however, has such long descriptions. Really easy to fall asleep to though.” You replied, flipping the page. Clive silently admired the effort you put in. He tried waiting until you put your book away, but his eyes got so heavy that he failed to stay awake.

...

If you still wanted a good night's rest, now was the time to put your book away. Clive was already fast asleep. He looked very peaceful. His chest went up and down in a steady rhythm. You could see several scars on his upper chest and shoulders alone. With a wry smile you observed him a little while longer. With his hair out of the way, you saw his full face for the first time. The stubble framed his face, the scar on his cheek, and there were no wrinkles or frowns on his forehead at the moment. You sighed, putting away your book and turning off the light.

Clive nudged you awake the next day. He was already dressed, which surprised you. “Oh, thanks for waking me.” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Clive just smiled as he turned his back to you as he waited for you to get dressed. As you put on your pants, Clive spoke up.

“We have some time after this, if you want to go somewhere?” You just finished putting your shirt in your pants.

“Huh? No that's fine, I know you're busy.” You replied, finding the question odd. You couldn't see Clive rolling his eyes.

“Listen.” He turned around. “Jill told me about your last bearer rescue. How you-”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You deflected. It was a bit early to talk about your shortcomings.

“I'm sorry, it happened because of me.” He looked at you, and you met his gaze.

“What are you talking about? We failed to bring back a single soul, and you're worried that some bastard spit in my face?”

“Y/N…” You mentally slapped yourself.

What is it with me and spitting people? Can I get a grip please?

And then you realized why he asked you along. To get out of it for a bit. Do something different. Take a bit more time. He felt guilty. “A talk would have sufficed, Clive. No need to go through all this trouble.” This suite suddenly felt ridiculous. Clive acting like your bodyguard felt ridiculous.

“I wanted to. I'm putting everyone in a tough spot, and you don't want me to at least try to bring some distraction when I think it's going too far? I saw how Jill looked. How you seclude yourself even more.” It was a desperate plea, and you felt your stomach churn.

“You should've asked Jill to come along, not me. She's better at these kinds of things.” Jill had a more sophisticated aura about her, and was better at shopping for fair deals than you were. You sighed, letting yourself fall back on the bed.

“Jill is accompanying Tarja. And it's about you right now.” Clive calmly said, as he moved over and laid next to you. You both stared at the ceiling. “I need you to buy me some medicine.” He chuckled at the notion. “These people won't talk to me, until this brand is off my face.” You turned your head towards Clive. He looked back. A moment of silence before you relented.

“Okay fine. We're doing this because you need the stuff for your operation, not because of me needing a distraction or whatever.”

“Good enough for me.” Clive said, as your gazes were still on each other. For a moment you thought something was going to happen. Then there was a knock on the door. “Breakfast ma'am, served in your room, just like you asked.”

#clive ff16 x reader #ff16 x reader #ffxvi x reader #clive ffxvi x reader #final fantasy xvi x reader #final fantasy 16 x reader #clive rosfield x reader

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come-away-with-me87 · 7 months ago

Text

It Takes Two Chapter 9

Chapter 8 here

******

While you were stewing in your thoughts, you suddenly heard a knock on your door. You weren't expecting any company, so who could it possibly be? They knocked again; they knew someone was home, they could hear the television playing. You turned off the television, walked to your door, and opened it to Shouta Aizawa standing in your doorway. "Mr. Aizawa..." you trailed off. He instantly replied, "I told you, we can be on a first name basis outside of school. I need to talk to you, may I come in?"

You stood there gawking at him for a moment, when you finally got it together, stepped aside, and said, "yes, of course. Come on in." You suddenly felt very underdressed in your crop top, leggings, and no makeup. He walked into your apartment, looked around, and his eyes instantly went to Ariel. "You have a cat," he stated flatly. "I do," you replied. He then said, "I like cats. What's her name?" You told him it was Ariel. He then said, "pretty kitty..." You couldn't help but gawk at him again. "Mr. Aiza---Shouta, forgive me, but may I ask what you are doing here?" He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment and just said, "say my name again."

You paused....what? "Ah - Shouta," He inched closer to you. What was he doing? "You see, Y/N..." he trailed off. Oh. You get it now. Even though you have heard him say it before, this time was different; your first name sounded like absolute heaven coming from his lips. You both sat down on your couch, and continued, "you see, Y/N, it's not that I don't like you. In fact, it's quite the opposite." You took a seat back from him, "what do you mean?" He inched closer to you again, "I don't dislike you at all. Like I said, it's quite the opposite. You plague my mind, and it's infuriating."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You felt like this was coming out of nowhere, so you asked him exactly that, "Shouta, where is this coming from?" "Y/N, I've never been a relationship man. I was your typical emo kid in high school, and that kind of trickled into my 30s as well." He paused for a moment, "that is, until I met you. The day you walked into my classroom, I felt something I never felt in my life." You couldn't believe your ears. So he did like you, and it was in more of a way than you expected.

He continued, "because of Hizashi's insistence, I've hooked up randomly here and there during my 20's, but nothing ever came of those. I've never been in an actual relationship before, so when I saw you and felt those feelings, I didn't know how to handle them. I'm so sorry I've come across as not liking you all this time; I think I was just trying to protect my feelings this whole time." He continued, "but then when I saw that man call you over to him at the bar last week, something in me stirred." You just looked at him while he talked; you still couldn't believe your ears.

"Oh, Shouta..." was all you could muster. "You know, the reason we went out to the bar that night was because Nemuri, Hizashi and Toshinori were trying to set us up," you said to him. He looked up at you and said, "really? I see. That's why they didn't tell me you were coming that night." You just looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments, and finally said to him, "Shouta, I really do appreciate you coming here and telling me about your real feelings. It makes...a lot more sense now. Especially about the way you've been acting towards me. But you have to understand, this is complicated for me...especially with Kenzo in the picture."

He looked somewhat sad at that statement, but still said, "I understand, Y/N. I didn't come here tonight with the expectations of you professing your love to me, but still, I had to tell you how I felt." He suddenly stood up from your couch, "I should get going. I'm sorry if I ruined your evening by my visit, but I had to clear my conscience." And with that, he turned around and walked out of your apartment.

******

To be continued...

#aizawa shota #aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #eraserhead #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa sensei #aizawa angst #aizawa shota smut #aizawa shota x you #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years ago

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Battle Of The Knights Pt. 4: Round 3 -Marc

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nothin- you're safe

Genre: fluff- still just fluff lol

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

***

As much as you'd like to sit and stew on your date with Jake the way you did with Steven, you're starting to think it's best for everyone not to draw this out any longer than absolutely necessary, so the following Friday you text the trio again, this time addressing Marc, with a message identical to the one you sent Steven and Jake.

Marc. Your week starts Sunday. You have until next Sunday to plan and execute a date on a day of your choosing or you forfeit your turn.

Marc almost immediately shoots back an affirmative like Jake did.

Okay.

But it wasn't until the next day that he reached out to give you any information on your date.

Hey y/n, right now my plan is to pick you up at 7 pm on Friday. Is that okay?

You chuckle to yourself as you read the message. He's the only one who asked if his choice was convenient for you. Even if that time didn't originally work you would make it work, if that's what time his plans are for you have no intentions to make it any harder.

Of course! See you then.

You shoot him back your reply quickly. Friday. You just need to make it through Friday. That is doable. On Thursday you remember to ask for a dress code since none of them seem particularly fond of revealing their plans in advance and when you're again told to keep it casual, you pick out a pair of shorts and a crop top for your third mystery date. Marc knocks on your door just after 7 looking a bit frantic when you open the door.

"Sorry I'm a bit late. I brought you flowers." Marc says holding out a bouquet of pretty purple and white blooms.

"Oh, it hasn't even been five minutes, don't worry about it. Give me just a second to set these up in a vase and then we can go. Okay?" You tell him, turning back into your apartment to put the flowers somewhere.

"Sure!" He calls after you without crossing the threshold. You don't actually have any vases lying around so you stick them in one of your reusable water bottles until you can get them a better home. No one's ever gotten you flowers before so keeping a vase in your apartment has literally never occurred to you before this moment. Marc waits patiently at your door until you return. It's strange to realize this but before now you hadn't really thought about it much until now. Usually, the boys move about your apartment as if they live here but through this whole process, none of them have stepped inside. Whether that was something they agreed on in advance or just a subconscious side effect of the temporary dynamic change you're not sure but you're not about to tip the scales for any of them by inviting Marc in. He can wait at the door if that's what he's chosen to do.

"Okay! Let's go." You smile at him once you're done, stepping out and locking your apartment door.

"Do you have your underground card by the way? We'll have to hop on the train from here." Marc tells you before you leave the building.

"Yeah, I've got it. Where are we going?" You ask.

"Oxford Circus." He says.

"Oxford Circus? What are we doing over there?" You ask frowning in confusion. The name of the station does not give you any clues as to what you'll be doing.

"That's all I'm gonna give you til we get there babes." Marc says.

"Fine." You say with exaggerated annoyance that makes Marc laugh as the two of you walk to the nearest underground station. You catch the next train headed for Oxford Circus while Marc asks you about how your week has been at work. Once you're off the train Marc takes your hand as he walks the streets to an unknown destination. After a few minutes, he pulls open the door to a building that you just barely catch the name of.

"Minigolf?!" You gasp.

"I thought it'd be fun, something laid back and low stakes. You know, except for the fact that you're definitely gonna lose."

"I'm gonna lose?! Oh, you are so going down Spector." You laugh.

"Yeah sure totally." He scoffs as you walk up to the desk at the front. The two of you pick your course, get your clubs and choose from the basket of colorful golf balls, yours blue and his yellow, and then the competition begins. You keep score because Marc is notorious for not doing that properly whenever you play games. By the time you get to the last of the nine holes of the course, it's not hard to guess how things will end. You line up what should be your final shot and knock the bright blue ball against an edge of the course that pushes it into the hole.

"HA! That's game baby! You lose." You jump up when it rolls in.

"Hey now, I could totally make this shot you know. It's not over til it's over." Marc defends.

"Even if you do make this shot Marc you're still five up. You can't beat me at this point." You shrug and Marc lines up for his next putt. It takes Marc two more shots to get his ball in.

"Damn." He shakes his head.

"Yeah- I totally wiped the floor with you." You laugh.

"No no, you wanna have the higher number obviously, so I win." Marc says looking at the scorecard.

"I know I've called you an idiot a number of times but I don't think you're that dumb. Or maybe you are if you think that's gonna work." You scoff. Marc slaps a hand against his chest dramatically.

"Ouch! Must you kick a man while he's down?" He sighs.

"Aw poor baby." You pout at him. "I'd feel worse if you hadn't declared that you'd beat me before we even started." You smirk at him.

"How evil." Marc smiles.

"That's what you get for saying I would and I quote 'definitely lose'. Looks like the stakes weren't what you thought they were."

"When did you get so good at mini golf anyway?" He asks.

"Oh I don't know. I don't play that often."

"What?" He blinks at you.

"I'm just good at most things." You shrug.

"I'd do well to remember that then." He hums.

"Yes. You would." You smile and turn to walk back to the desk to return your club and golf ball with Marc quickly catching up to walk beside you.

"So- I was thinking we could get burgers, or if you want something that's more upscale there's an Italian place not far from here that's pretty good." Marc suggests once the two of you have exited the building.

"In the theme of laid back and low stakes- burgers sound great." You say with a slight nudge.

"Awesome, there's a burger joint a couple blocks down that's so good even Steven likes going there." Marc throws an arm over your shoulders as you walk.

"Really? They have vegan options I'm guessing?" You ask.

"They do indeed. Although- since Steven isn't rambling in my head tonight I think I'll pass on the vegan options this time around. Don't tell him." Marc winks at you.

"Your secret is safe with me." You giggle. You've always found it sweet that Marc, despite not actually being vegan, tries to accommodate Steven's lifestyle as often as he does. Jake really can't be bothered- not that you blame him honestly- he's not vegan either, there's no reason for him to go out of his way to choose vegan options but Marc's attempt at consideration is nice. It only takes you about five minutes to make it to the restaurant Marc was talking about and since the place isn't busy when you get there it doesn't take long to get your food once you've ordered.

"I can see why even Steven likes this place." You hum popping a fry into your mouth.

"Good right?" Marc smiles.

"Yeah, I'll definitely be coming back here." You nod.

"Well- sounds like I'm doing pretty damn good tonight then."

"You're certainly better at planning dates than you are at playing mini golf, I'll give you that much." You shrug.

"I think I can accept that as your official assessment." He says.

"Yeah?" You chuckle.

"Yeah! Imagine if I sucked as bad at date planning. Now that would be something I can't recover from."

"I mean- it's not like I'd go home and block you if you planned a bad date." You wink.

"Sure but not getting blocked is such a low bar. I'm aiming for way higher." Marc says.

"You're doing great so far." You chuckle. The two of you joke and chat while finishing your food and even once all that's left is the rubbish you keep talking until eventually the place is getting ready to close and you have to leave. Your train ride back to your apartment is similarly filled with chatter. It's always interesting to you how no matter how long you spend with Marc you never actually run out of things to talk about with him. When you think about it, that actually applies to Jake and Steven too, it's like you can never spend enough time with them. It's nice, having someone, or in this case, a trio of someones, that you don't get tired of being around. Once you're back at your apartment there's an awkward transition from whatever you're talking about to goodbyes- neither of you particularly rushing for the night to end.

"Well- we made it back." Marc says.

"We did. I had a good time tonight." You tell him with a smile.

"That's all I was hoping for." He says. You chuckle and turn your back for long enough to unlock your apartment and then you face him again, leaning forward a bit to give Marc a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight Marc." You say quietly before stepping into your apartment.

"Wait-" Marc says before you can shut the door.

"Yes?" You tilt your head at him. You can practically see the gears turning in his head before he speaks again.

"When will we see you again?" He asks. You pause for a moment and consider what would be the best answer.

"Soon." You offer. Giving a specific date wouldn't do any good. If it's too soon you'll be pressured to rush the decision, and if it's too far anxiety may eat the boys up before you even get around to giving an answer.

"Just- soon?" His brows draw together in confusion.

"I'm sorry that I don't have a better answer it's just- well I've got a lot to think about here, I need some time to sort through my thoughts." You tell him.

"Sorry- we shouldn't pressure you. It's all so- strange, we know. It's just- well you know how we can be I guess." Marc says. You look at him for a moment, it's not often that Marc's nerves show, but right now he's fiddling with his fingers and you know for a fact that he's more anxious than he wants to let on.

"Before the month is over. I'll text you all." You say in an attempt to ease his uncertainty.

"That's three weeks." He says.

"Yeah, I know. That- should give me enough time to work out my feelings about this whole thing. And- you can pass that message along to Steven and Jake, yeah? Before the end of the month. I'll message you all and we'll meet up to talk." You nod as Marc's shoulders visibly drop slightly. As if having a timeline just drastically decreased how tense he was.

"Okay. We'll be waiting, whenever you're ready." He tells you.

"Goodnight Marc." You say.

"Goodnight y/n." Marc says. With that, you fully enter your apartment and shut the door behind you. Tonight was fun. So was your date with Jake the other week and Steven's before that. You simply enjoy spending time with all of them- which, you already knew. The more you think it over the more you are sure that you're in way over your head, but it's a little late to worry about that now. You have a decision to make. But you also have three weeks before an answer is expected. Tonight you'll just let yourself enjoy the post-date bliss and you'll worry about the decision tomorrow. Or the next day. You'll get to it. Just not tonight.

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012 @stressed-cherry @animechick555

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader

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blazehedgehog · 10 months ago

Text

I WILL CHOKE ON THESE SOUR GRAPES TIL I'M IN MY GRAVE

youtube

I left this open in another tab, meaning to watch it like a week ago. It's an official video published and promoted on the Youtube Studio dashboard, about common misconceptions around their recommendation algorithm and what the truths really are. .

And now, finally watching it, that white haired dude, Mr. "Youtube Liason", is the guy who told me the algorithm ignored one of my videos because "maybe it just wasn't very good."

Famously, and something I will never ever shut up about when given the chance to mention it, I put out a video about Jurassic Park games just before Christmas, expecting it to slot in and do decent numbers, just like all of my other videos do. Since Youtube earnings tend to spike around the holidays, this was going to be how I paid for Christmas presents that year. It was something I'd done at least twice before. Instead, the algorithm completely ignored the video because it was outside my usual wheelhouse of Sonic content.

This is shockingly relevant to the very first topic they cover: whether a single "off-topic" video actually matters with regards to how the algorithm sees your channel, and the general answer from the Youtube technician is "No." You don't gotta tell me.

When I put my full weight behind a video, it easily breaks 10k views, even 50k or 200k+ views. Some of my most popular videos have cracked the multi-millions!

So when this dude spells out in plain english that the algorithm effectively ignores one-off videos? Yeah, no shit. I'm living proof of that. Across the first two years, that Jurassic Park video struggled to break even 2000 views. Only by paying out of my own pocket for multiple promotional campaigns and constantly complaining about its lack of performance has it struggled to hit just over 5000 views, some four years later. The algorithm knew it was way outside my regular wheelhouse and treated it like poison.

And this liason clown had the balls to tell me "well maybe the video was just bad, sorry bud" only to, two years later, sit down with this technician that spells out exactly what I was knew was happening and was trying to explain to him.

Except now, of course, it's being spun as a positive: "don't worry, a one-off won't hurt your regular content" as opposed to the "we didn't notify anyone about your one-off and it became stillborn" I experienced.

youtube

I have sat down and thought very intently about this Jurassic Park video. Obviously, if I make a stink about its performance, tell people the algorithm made a poor judgment call, I'm going to get patted on the back and comforted that yes, the video is good. Don't worry. The mean old algorithm is just dumb. Right? And Youtube unflinchingly believes in the power of their algorithm as this perfect shining golden standard to drive viewership, the thing that can never, ever be wrong about guys like me.

I appreciate the comfort and support of friends and colleagues and even random strangers who are inherently distrustful of the algorithm. But I also know that feels like an echo chamber.

So then what, do I trust Youtube? Absolutely not. At the end of the day their algorithm still made an unfair judgment call and despite their claims above that any old video can get picked up by the algorithm at any time, my video has never recovered. I've tried more interesting thumbnails, I've spent almost $100 on Google Adsense promotion -- one of which, I should note, was the same week that Jurassic World 3 released, and the other being E3. Both should have been extremely lucrative times to run ads. And I got crickets.

I like the video. I stand by the fact I think I did a good job on it. I remain proud of it. It's as good as any real-effort-content I've put out in the last five years. The echo chamber tells me it's a good video, too, even if I literally can't buy views.

So my only recourse is to sit here and stew in my bitterness towards this algorithm. The shining, ultimate example as to why you should never let a computer make a qualitative judgment call. And I will be frustrated and angry about this until I draw my last breath.

#youtube #google #algorithm #jurassic park #jurassic world #sour grapes

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furious-rogue-stuff · 2 years ago

Note

CONGRATULATIONS!!!! Your trully really deserve it!! So can I request 🗡🥺🐣please?

Sending u love and hugs🫶🏻🫶🏻

My dear friend! I'm sorry for the ridiculous wait on this, but I finally got around to this wonderful prompt. This is my first time writing Pero Tovar, so I hope I've done him justice.

Thanks, as always, to @just-here-for-the-moment for putting up with my ass and beta reading to make sure this wasn't complete trash and smutty enough.

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Spanish woman, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 6,500+

🚨Author chooses not to include detailed warnings, but the following: Mentions of marriage, impersonating a soldier, past violence, scars and war wounds, breeding kink, graphic depictions of unprotected sex, and period-accurate tropes.

Yearn

The air outside was crisp with chill, making it all the more pressing for him to traverse the muddy road towards the small cottage. The smoke from the stone chimney signaled you’d started a fire for supper, and the twinkle of candlelight from the condensation-covered window facing outward to the road and frosty meadow beyond told him you’d intended to keep your promise from that morning.

The gnaw of hunger had settled in from the long day of labor, but the ache behind his sternum was one of longing, one he’d been nursing since the day before, and it took precedence over any need to fill his belly. He quickly trotted the steed into the rickety barn he’d yet to get around to patching the holes in the roof of, and once the animal was stabled, he trudged determinedly up to the door of the cottage.

He entered quickly and shut the chill out behind him, dark eyes adjusting to the dim lighting once he furrowed his brow and loped towards the weathered hearth. The steps that led to the loft above, where your marital bed was housed in a snug, insulated nook, were empty, and the table was already set with bread and wine while the savory stew kept warm in the caldero tucked near the fire. Yet, no sign of you.

“…Are you aloft already, condesa?” Pero speaks firmly, so his query can be heard clearly from above.

There is no answer, so he paces towards the steps, senses on high alert now. His instincts bellow for him to retrieve his sword from whence it’s stored, hidden in a nearby trunk, or to at least unsheathe the hidden blade he keeps on his person. He palms the handle of his dagger, tucked in its scabbard at the back of his leather belt underneath his well-worn poncho. His expression becomes stony, scar over his left eye resembling an etching, one that reveals the capacity of brutality suffered and meted out in return.

It's the soft flutter of clothing he hears first before he sees the movement from the shadowed corner that has him pivoting and effortlessly catching you as you leapt out at him from your stealthy ambush spot – the pantry cubby you’d climbed up into and waited for the right moment to pounce.

“Gotcha!” he growls triumphantly as he swings you around with impish delight, making you encircle your arms to hold onto his broad shoulders while you squeal mirthfully whilst your tunic skirts flutter about. “Trying to get the jump on me? Really, tigresita?!”

Not to be foiled completely, you wrap your legs around his hips and toss yourself backwards, creating a momentum that forces him to swing around until he’s able to break both your falls onto the bench you’d improvised using two bales of hay and an old tapestry draping you’d found discarded upstairs.

Pero lands with an exhaled huff, and you victoriously use his distraction to grab his thick wrists and pin his arms above his head.

“Bueno, I’ve bested the great guerrero, the most fearsome man with a blade, who said I was too noisy for my own good to ever get the drop on him, was it?” you’re gloating as you stare sultrily into his sardonic, handsome expression. “Well? Do you yield?”

“You are much too playful for me to try besting, my love, so…” Pero draws in that graveled rumble of his, musing and melodic before he suddenly bucks you off of him and rolls to pin you under him instead. “No, I do not yield.”

You scoff haughtily, arching a smug brow as you chime, “Good, because this is where I wanted to end up anyway.”

“Oh, is that right?” he husks, unable to muster the faux scowl any longer, so he smirks and croons in that bass-filled melodic murmur, one that always sets your nerve endings on fire, as he intensely stares into your eyes. “You wanted to end up on your back and underneath the tired and dirty mercenary-turned-farmhand that’s made you his wife? Well, I should hope so, mi amada.”

You smile enchantingly at him and arch your hips up into his. “It is so, mi marido,” is your silky purr as you lean up and brush your soft lips over his.

Pero grunts approvingly and deepens the kiss, hand cupping your jaw possessively as he plunders the cup of your mouth with his voracious tongue.

Equally as possessive are your hands as they grope and cling to his thick tunic under his poncho before eagerly shoving upwards in order to tug at his undershirt in an attempt to slip beneath to touch his skin. He smells of soil, grain and leather, musky scent heightened by his salty sweat. It makes your head spin with lust, and has arousal cloying from your center. His mouth is warm, and you ache to feel his powerful and overheated body against your bare skin as he presses into you with need.

You are desperate to undress him, and he realizes how much so when you dig your heels into the back of his trousers and groan into his mouth a pleading command.

Breaking the kiss, Pero pants against your gasping mouth before grumbling, “What was that?”

“I said I want you inside me now, Pero,” you airily repeat, the tone of your demand though is softened by your excitement now that he’s pointedly ground his arousal into your tingling center. “Mmm, please—”

“Such a needy little thing, begging so,” he chuckles ruggedly, timbre hitting that octave that has desire beseechingly pulsing in the seat of your core. His dark eyes crinkle as if he can sense how aroused you are, and just as you whine for him to comply, he slips a hand between your bodies and hikes it up the front of your skirts to cup you at the haven of your thighs. “And here I thought you were simply keeping your promise to wait up for me, no matter how late my return from the merchants. But instead, you try to best me into submission so you can have me fill this warm cunt, eh?”

His fingers trace along the crest of your sex before gliding along your warm, wet seam, parting your folds just as his thumb presses into the hood of your clit. “Ah, Pero!” you whimper, hands clutching at his sides and gripping sturdy fabric as you roll your hips, seeking the plunge of his fingers into your sheath. “Please—”

He revels in how desperate you are for him, so he presses his luck by testing how far his depraved desires can muster getting you to that fine line of wanting to give into your urge to be dominated versus having dominion to ensnare him into succumbing to his own needs.

So, he licks your plump bottom lip before grazing his teeth over it licentiously.

At your gasp and jolt against his edging fingers where you ache for them, Pero mutters coolly, “Is that all you can say, condesa? My fierce little noblewoman-turned-warrior can’t use her words when her sweet cunt is touched?”

The way your eyes sharpen is exactly what he wanted just before he plunges two thick fingers inside you.

You moan that glorious sound of pleasure that makes him feel like he’s touched the sun and it’s filled him with grace, and the beatific expression of rapture that comes over your lovely face has him straining in his trousers to replace his fingers with his cock.

But, he persists in this carnal play, and coos, “Look at you, bebita. It’s almost like you’ve yearned for my touch all day—”

“Pero,” you whine when he finger-fucks you slowly while taunting you so. He chuckles at the pleading way you arch up into him, so you dig your nails into the layers until you can feel his solid torso, and hiss, “No me tortures, por favor—”

His musing hum is rich and earthy, and to your aroused senses, it’s like a warm wine hitting your bloodstream. Feeling his broad, strong frame pressed over you, and the teasing prod of his ramrod cock only heightens your need, as does the musky smell of him, the sweat that clings to his skin and the heat of his mouth grazing along your cheek now.

Scenting your hair by nosing into the locks at your temple, Pero laconically rumbles, “I’d never torture you, sweet girl. I just want you to be mi tigresita valiente and admit you’ve been in heat for me, that you’ve been thinking unchaste thoughts all day—”

He feels your molten sheath clench around his fingers at his words, but the defiance is starting to scintillate in your eyes before you snap thinly, “And what sort of filth have you been thinking, husband?”

Pugnaciously, he smirks like a cunning tentador before husking, “Oh, this very thing. Of having my fingers in your warm cunt – making you restless and insolent, desperate to have my cock inside you instead.”

At the indolent pump of his fingers changing to a pleasurable curl that brushes the digits against the nested pleasure point inside you, a gasped mewl falls from your mouth as you writhe up into him.

“I thought about all the ways I’ve given you pleasure, and all the ways I still intend to give you pleasure,” he tells you in that damnable aloof way that makes you burn and melt. “Tell me one naughty little ember that’s kept you hot like this all day, esposa, and I’ll put my mouth on you until you reach bliss on my tongue.”

With a proposition like that? You are turned to clay, features heating from your blush as you confess, “I thought about you, undressed before me, and letting me worship your body with my hands and mouth before getting bare for you so you could make me yours by the fire.”

His fingers pause inside of you and he looks at you with unfettered hunger in his dark eyes.

You expect him to shift up so he could make that fantasy a reality, but instead, he grunts – as if placated, before receding his fingers from you, crawling down your body to bunch up your skirts so he can bury his face between your thighs.

The lascivious swipe of his tongue through your drenched folds has you gasping and hiking your knees up to make room for his broad shoulders, writhing in ecstasy as Pero devours your cunt and rubs his fingers over the hood of your pleasure point. He groans when your thighs squeeze around him, and chuckles against your mound when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug.

The look he shoots up at you from below his brow while he nuzzles shamelessly into the heady curls above your sex makes your pulse spike with exhilaration, and when he shifts your wool-stocking-covered legs further apart for him to angle your pelvis further up to better access your honeyed cunt, you groan imploringly, “Mi amor,” and bite your trembling bottom lip.

It’s exactly what he wanted.

He is unabashed and libidinous with his mouth after he bows his head between your thighs once more, and true to his word, you’re climaxing in minutes on his tongue while you ride his rapacious appendage and grip the thick tufts of dark hair at the crown of his head with one hand whilst moaning blissfully into the back of the other.

The deliriously exquisite feeling that washes over you is divine, and you sigh softly while he laps at your climax and grunts, as if satisfied with your state of euphoria.

So, when you feel cool air between your thighs, your eyes glossily open to stare dazed up at him, confused as he looms over you and grumbles a humored, gloating hum before popping his sullied fingers into his mouth and sucking your slick orgasm off.

He then stands from the makeshift bench and declares, “I want to eat,” before pivoting to lope unhurriedly to the wooden stool nearest the table so he can plunk down on it and scoot it closer to the fireplace to dutifully stir the stew with the ladle.

You’re flabbergasted.

Sitting up on your elbows to gape – comically appalled – at him, you watch as he serves himself a bowl of the savory stew while trying to keep the wry grin from pulling at his full lips. He fails miserably though when he looks over at you with that droll expression on his features before he smiles behind the bowl he raises to his lips. It does little to conceal his goading amusement, and you’re glaring at him now that your wits have returned to you.

Once he’s had a few hearty sips of the flavorful meal, he gruffly drawls, “Come stay warm by the fire, mi amada.”

You decide then that two can play this game.

Straightening your tunic skirts down and squeezing your knees together, you sit on the edge of the improvised bench and start unfastening the corseted vest that keeps your tunic and smock cinched to your form.

“I am already very warm, thank you,” is your blithe lilt as you stand and shed the vest.

Pero turns to watch you with clenched jaw as you remove the dark top tunic, leaving you now in just the green smock and a thin pale linen chemise that teases the shape and ample swell of your breasts. You can feel his eyes on you as you shimmy out of the smock next, leaving you now in just the chemise that hits just above your ankles. The glow from the fireplace hits the light linen and creates a spritely silhouette of your curvy, supple form hidden beneath, and when you hike up the hem just enough to allow you to adjust a wool stocking back up to your knee, you finally look over at him and smile.

“How is the stew?”

“…Come here.”

“Is it not to your liking, my love?”

“…Come here, mujer.”

“Do you prefer mead over wine with it?”

“…I prefer for you to cease teasing me so and come sit with me,” Pero tells you in a guttural croon as he sets his bowl aside on the table and holds his hand out to you in an assertive petition.

You feign meekness as you susurrate, “You said you wanted to eat, though. I am loath to disturb your meal—”

“Come sit on my lap and eat with me already. You’ve made your point,” he yields in a snarky huff, but the smile in his eyes is evident before they crinkle from the appeased smirk that warms his chiseled features when you slyly grin and saunter over to him.

He swoops you into his lap before you’ve completely maneuvered around, and you scoff sassily at him as you loop your arms around his shoulders. He nuzzles into your neck and fondles his big, warm hands along your curves, making you sigh dreamily and lean into him.

“Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Hm. Next time, you fill your belly first. Don’t wait on my account, ternura.”

“I will, precioso,” you retort affectionately, earning the expected eye roll and dubious snicker from him. “No seas tan gallardo, y come,” is your fussy quip as you grab his bowl, maneuver nimbly in his lap to reach for the ladle and add more stew to it before handing the bowl to him so you can grab a piece of bread and tear a chunk off to add in as well.

He smirks broadly, so much so that his boyish dimple is unearthed from his right cheek. “No seas tan porfiada y come, condesa,” is his dashing counter, putting the bowl into your hands before grabbing the other from the table to serve himself some stew.

You eat together, and you enjoy the warmth of his body as you remain perched on his lap while he leans his back into the wall and gorges himself. He asks where you sourced the meat that’s in the stew, and is proud when you tell him about the rabbit traps you set. You’re resourceful and smart, cunning, yet tender-hearted. It makes something warm and vast expand in his chest, having you be his, and how content you are to belong to him.

Once the ache in his belly is quieted, he licks his lips before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, eyeing you intensely as you sip from the shared cup of wine.

He belongs to you, too. It stirs blazing desire in him, and fills him with serenity, knowing he’s yours, and how fiercely you made it so.

The longing of before tugs at his heart now as he’s reminded of how you’d sat opposite him the evening prior, balancing the small tyke on your knee as you’d both shared dinner at the farmer’s homestead. The former soldier had settled this land years prior, married, and started a family. Winter had been fast approaching, and after a chance encounter with the man on the road, you’d both accepted the offer to board at the vacant cottage on his land, exchanging labor and help prepping for the winter for room and board.

Pero had watched you while the farmer and his wife chattered about the foodstuffs stored earlier and the barley he’d help transport to the merchant market the following morning, how long the journey there and back would be – ‘M’afraid it’ll take up most of the day’ – all while you’d entertained the little one that had become mesmerized by your smile and the silly faces you made to amuse him.

A heavy desire had settled in his chest, one he couldn’t place, until you’d passed the small toddler over to his mother and offered to pick up the infant that had begun to cry in its woven bassinet. Seeing you hold the wailing baby to your chest and rock it softly as you sat back down and showed the mother how to use the feeding bottle that you’d made out of an old clay pot with a spout you’d improvised in order to supplement her milk with that of the cow’s? How gentle you were once the babe was sated and you could maneuver her in your arms to make sure to burp all the gasses out of the little baby before cradling the sweet infant to sleep?

It had suddenly awakened something in him that made him feel clumsy – out of his depth.

He shakes the reveries off when you hum and offer the cup of wine to him.

“Do you want more?”

His features take on that stoic look, becoming marble as he nods and takes the cup to drain it of the remaining wine.

Thinking he’s become weary from the day now, you take the bowls to be set aside for rinsing in the makeshift dish tub you’d fabricated from an old wine barrel.

Pero watches you hesitate before setting the bowls onto the shelf near you, and then turn back towards him to ask gently, “I have clean water. Would you like me to bathe you?”

His scarred brow cocks up at you, sarcastic as he deadpans, “Would you like me to bathe? Do I smell that bad? Is my stink too odious, condesa?”

Mischievous smile lighting up your features, you feign remorse before shaking your head and chiming, “No, not at all. I happen to like your stink, anyway,” at his amused snort, you continue silkily, “I was just thinking you’d like to feel the warm water over your skin. I heated it over the fire once the stew was ready. It’s tepid now, but still nice.”

He grunts as if charmed, then nods and stands to remove the poncho from his shoulders before tossing it over with the rest of your discarded garments. You pleasantly work to maneuver the tub with the clean water across the floor closer to the hearth and end up smiling when he chivalrously comes over and picks it up for you to be set right next to the stool.

“This is poor substitute to the bathhouse, I know—” you begin to chuckle.

“You mean the one you went into while impersonating a soldier? Or the one you snuck into to seduce me?” he counters roguishly as he removes his belt, knife, and tunic next.

“No, travieso. I was meaning the one with the eucalyptus leaves and lovely oils that they put in the bath water – from the place we stopped at in the merchant’s quarter?” you deride playfully as you soak a rag in the tepid water before wringing it out. At his sardonic grunt, you stand and turn to bossily grab the waist of his trousers before yanking at the fastening. “Now, be good, husband, and let me undress you.”

His cock has been filled out since he collapsed onto the bench with you, but at your sultry tone, it throbs in response as it stands ready, arousal outlined prominently against the inseam of his trousers.

You take your time removing the remaining layers of clothes from his torso, then kneel at his feet in order to remove his dirt-caked boots before you finally resume stripping him of his pants.

The glow of the firelight illuminates his tan skin and the myriad of scars that map his body across contours of muscle and vast expanses of flesh. Some are old and worn smooth by time, others are silvery pale and etched, others are a darker olive and raised. He’d once been self-conscious about your gentle, appraising touches – of the doting caresses over the jagged reminders of brutality and pain that had been carved into him by steel blade, arrowhead or iron-made punctures. But now, he yearns for your touch, relishes how you brush your lips over a scar along the curve of his ribcage, and burns with pride at the reverent way you glide the wet rag to scrub the dirt and sweat from his skin.

He's not even bashful about standing in the nude before you while you remain in your chemise.

No, instead his timidness is palliated by the new fixation crossing his mind’s eye. One that’s conjured you in a kaleidoscope fantasy, where you’re standing before him in the same chemise, but instead it is clinging to a rounded little belly while your beautiful smile broadens as you look upon him. How you would look nude and with child, the way you’d react to his erotic touch – one hand between your thighs, with the other caressing your soft womb.

Before he could get carried away with the curiosities – would she taste sweeter between her thighs, would her scent be more ripened on her warmer skin, how sensitive would she be to being touched and kissed – Pero cleared his throat and his mind as best he could in order to guardedly watch you tend to him.

“So, this is what you’d fantasized about?” he murmurs warmly as you lean back on your haunches after crouching down to rinse the rag in the tub and wring it out once more.

The chill is warded away mostly by the fire in the hearth, but truthfully he’s so aroused by you that he’s become even more of a furnace than he is normally. You’re glad for it, loving the extra excuse to touch him and revel in his masculine scent.

“The bathing is a windfall, but yes,” you quip as you stand now so you can scrub up into his underarm and whisper conspiratorially, “Another thing I thought of? Was how gorgeous you look when your face is flushed after I suck your cock until you spill in my mouth—”

“Misericordia, mujer,” Pero exhales in a floored scoff as he pauses your scrubbing and cups his hand at your jaw in order to tilt your brazen smile up to him. “You cannot say such depraved filth to me and remain clothed,” is his raspy taunt as he crowds you against the edge of the table. Your titillated stare has him smirking as he tugs at the neckline of your chemise and orders, “Take this off. Now.”

You plop the rag down into the tub and do as you’re told, undressing before him.

He watches you with his dark, intense eyes, shadow cast by the fireplace shrouding half of his features as you discard the chemise, then your boots, leaving you in only the wool stockings.

You’re about to ruck one down when Pero surprises you by kneeling and doing it for you.

“So, how was your day, aside from the erotic daydreaming?” he’s asking in that melodic baritone as he chucks the stocking over his shoulder before moving to the next one, as if his face isn’t an inch from your womanhood and his gloating stare can’t see the debauched effect he’s having on you.

“It-It was fine. I spent most of it in their root cellar, helping stock the things from the barn,” you stutter as he hums to indicate he’s listening while he tosses the other stocking aside and starts fondling his hands up your supple thighs. “With the little ones clinging at her apron, she needed help milking the cow and feeding the chickens—”

“How were the little piglets today?” he jokes, wry glance up at you clear indication he’s referring to the children rather than the actual piglets from the sow in the barn.

You playfully pinch his shoulder. “Que malo,” is your sardonic giggle before answering, “The baby was needy for milk. But she’s practically tapped after the little one has his fill, so I tried to get him to eat some porridge—”

Pero grunts musingly and brushes a sloppy, open-mouth kiss over your womb. “The little glutton is old enough to eat. La pobrecita will be malnourished if she doesn’t get enough milk,” is his aloof grumble, kissing a path up your body as he slowly stands.

Arousal swoops into your stomach and curls tantalized tingles into your thrumming core.

“I-I know,” is all you can breathe out as he boxes you between him and the table at your back before looming at his full height to stare hungrily at you. “H-Hopefully they can wean him s-soon—”

“You wanted me to fuck you by the fire?”

Your clench hard at that, nipples studding and desire making you wet with anticipation while his broad frame stands so close, yet so far still. You know he’s being cheeky, trying to put you off-kilter to his whims, but you’re tickled more than anything that he’d try.

“I said I wanted you to make me yours by the fire,” you retort with a spritely look in your eyes.

“That’s the same thing, isn’t it?” he says in a contrarian drawl, lips pouting at your snickered response. “Well? How is it not?”

“Because! You can fuck anyone, but you can’t make just anyone yours,” you declare with a logical air, hands gliding up his chest now to loop around his neck so you can slink up against him and his warm, bare body.

“Hmm…makes sense, I suppose,” he judiciously replies before confidently hoisting you up.

You giggle effervescently as he carries you over to the makeshift bench, makes short work of shoving it to be closer to the hearth before laying you onto it and hitching himself between your welcoming thighs.

Pero’s kisses are greedy as he ruts his ramrod shaft between your dripping folds, eager to slicken it in order to spear it into you and make it feel divine for you both. Your hands cling to his muscular back, mouth seeking the warmth of his own for a luscious interlude before you feel him notch the head of his cock at your dimpled entrance.

He’s content to let you pillage his mouth with your tongue before twirling his own against it, desire a stoked fire in his center that he intends to nurture for as long and as many times he can bring you to climax before he’s overcome with his own release.

“Por favor, mi amor, dámelo,” you supplicate in a honey-sweet tone, eyes pleading as your body clings to his strong frame.

He can’t deny you any longer.

His thrust has you arching, pelvis angling up and knees clutching at his sides as he fucks into you to the hilt while you moan his name and he swears in awe at how sensational this feels every time.

“Cristo amado,” he groans as he thrusts into you again, passion boiling over in him at the way you mewl against his jaw approvingly. “Wanted this. Needed it—”

“Oh, Pero,” you exhale as he sets a pounding pace and holds you to him like you are liquid, and in danger of coming apart in his arms. “Want you all the time—”

“Yeah?” he groans, nuzzling your neck to suckle a possessive kiss into your delicate skin before he grits, “Need you, amada—”

“Tell me, husband. Mmm, tell me what you need,” you stammer out as he keeps rocking into you in that toe-curling way that has his cock grinding into the ruinous parts inside your fluttering sheath.

Ardently, he growls, “Need you—need to fill you up, keep you full of me. Want you to be mine—”

You moan in that glorious way again, and it almost drives him over the edge, so he adjusts to loom over you so he can concentrate on your pleasure. To make you reach bliss before he lets his baser, primal desires carry him off.

He keeps pounding into your squelching cunt as he begins suckling on your nipple while he presses the pad of his thumb over the hood of your bundled pleasure point.

It sets you alight, and you wail in overawed pleasure as he plucks you so with his cock, fingers and mouth. “Ah, D-Dios mío—” you cry out when he sucks hard on your pebbled flesh and grinds his wanton pleasure to ignite a scintillating climax to burst free.

You moan as your sheath squeezes around his cock and floods him with your warm orgasm, carried off by the throes of ecstasy he’s unleashed in you.

Punch-drunk from the achievement, Pero moans before he licks a path to the other nipple to toy the tip of his tongue along it until you shiver and whimper from overstimulation when he purses his lips around it.

“Pero,” you whine airily, eyes heavy-lidded as he frees your nipple and leans up to gaze rapaciously at you. He tenderly pets your sweaty hair from your face and traces his thumb along the apple of your cheek before you sigh, “You didn’t do it.”

He frowns, trailing his thumb to your mouth, intending to caress it over your plush lips before you kiss it dotingly. “Didn’t do what?”

You exhale girlishly before cupping your hand to his cheek. “You didn’t fill me,” is your silly reply, eyes warm with mirth and smile affectionate when he grunts and scowls. “And you held back. There was something you wanted to say—”

“There was, but it…” he pauses before shaking his head and scoffing, “I’m still inside you, amada. Let’s forget it—”

“Pero Tovar, are you timid, so suddenly?” you can’t help but razz, smiling slyly at him when he gives you his intimidating glower. “Oh no, that will not work with me, marido. Your nostrils flaring crossly are cute—”

“You are a maddening woman,” he huffs in that gravelly tone, but the amusement is clear in the creasing of his eyes. “I…I have been thinking things I haven’t before. At least that I haven’t ever considered, and, they are clumsy thoughts. I—I’m unused to being unsure, ternura…”

“Unsure about…what?” you ask and lean up to lovingly gaze into his tense stare. When he hesitates, you can’t help jump to conclusions for him, knowing how reticent he is about discussing his feelings. “If it’s about things here? We could always take William up on his offer – go north to visit him in the spring? Or if you’re not content with, well, this,” you gesture to the shabby interior of the cottage, “we could ask to stay in the hut next to the barn? It’s dryer and closer to the work—”

“It’s none of that. Although I haven’t done well enough of a job in that, I know. Not found us much of a life out here…” Pero grouses, but at your frown, he amends, “This is not the life of nobleza. It’s beneath your stature—”

“Fuck my stature,” you scoff and sit up to roll your positions so you can straddle his lap while he gapes up at you. “I’ve told you plenty of times now that my station in life is for me to decide, and I’ve chosen to be happy and free, with you. Now, mi guerrero obstinado, tell me what you’re unsure of, and I shall tell you if you have cause to be unsure.”

He’s still inside you, and the way his cock throbs in your still tingling sheath while he gives you a penetrating look with those dark brown eyes tells you this is something very primordial.

“I want to fill you up, make you full of my seed until your belly is soft and round with my child.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, but your hands caress his chest in a soothing, encouraging way that has Pero shutting his eyes and letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Our life is not suited for such a…we travel, and such a life would mean settling down,” he tells you firmly before opening his eyes.

He’s disarmed by the fond, radiant look softening your countenance.

“Well, sure, we would need to settle down, but only for a brief time. Until the little one can come along with us on our travels,” you tell him as you idly undulate your pelvis, grinding his pulsing cock along your silken walls before squeezing your sheath around it for good measure while your breasts bounce from how vigorously you begin fucking yourself onto him.

The wind begins to howl outside and seep through certain cracks in the door and window, but neither of you seem to care enough to notice as you sensually grind down on him, hair swaying with the way you lean forward to passionately kiss Pero when he groans and clutches your waist tightly, powerful fingers dimpling your flesh as he starts guiding you to ride him harder.

His breath is ragged as everything starts to spin up between you, his lust and adoration tangling around the incredulous realization that you’re in tune with the clumsy thoughts he confessed.

Still, it scorches something feral and covetous to singe through him as he husks, “You w-want that…? You truly want to be mine—to be with child?”

You moan and plant your palms to his warm, flexing pectorals as you ride him with desperate vigor now, expression beaming with delight.

“There’s nothing I want more,” you declare with genuine enamored satisfaction, albeit pantingly so as you ride him and mewl in pleasure.

Pero is torn asunder by your words as much as by how exquisitely you’re riding him, and he’s so propelled to the precipice of climax and primal need to triumph in it that he effortlessly sits up and manhandles you to flip positions so he can fuck you with passionate zeal and get you there with him just as his cock swells and twitches in imminent release.

“Mi alma, I’ll fuck my seed deep—make it so nothing spills free from you—have you filled full with it, and rejoice once a child is in your womb,” he’s professing against your jaw as he hammers his cock into your fluttering sheath while your heels dig into his lower back and your fingers knead below his shoulder blades, rapturous pleasure engulfing you with every ferally growled word, until he flings you into a blistering orgasm by moaning, “Will keep making you mine even then. Give you everything—keep you pregnant, protect you and our sweet ones—keep you forever—”

You cry out and arch up under him, rapturous sob catching in your throat as you reach a zenith of bliss that has you clinging in enthralled desperation to him, which snaps the tether of control loose from him and spurs his own fierce orgasm.

Pero moans hoarsely against your neck as he spills his climax deep, cock buried to the hilt inside you as he holds you possessively to him and hums soothingly at your loving nuzzles and whispered words of, “Te amo, precioso.”

Huskily, he rumbles, “Te amo y te adoro con todo que tengo, mi alma.”

You sigh wistfully at his words and melt further under him, reveling in the decadent bloom of warmth that diffuses through you.

The crackling of the fire is the only other sound of consequence over the ragged, shallow breaths you’re both trying to steady into calm once more while you come down from the soul-shattering lovemaking.

“Pero...?”

“Hm?”

“Would you still love me if I became plump and had little ones constantly hanging on my skirts?” you whisper meekly, hands languidly caressing along his sweaty back. “And if I even became shit at fighting?”

“That’s impossible, tigresita,” he laconically rumbles against your neck. At your fretful hum, he props himself up in order to loom over you and give you his steely, no-nonsense stare. “I started to love you when I thought you were an awkward, short soldadito, my love. I think it’s safe to say I’ll love every version of you to come,” is his bass-filled retort, sincere affection not dulled by the humor of his tone.

You press your forehead to his, appeased.

He pulls out of your now tender cunt, and avidly watches his seed begin to drip in his wake, so he scoops his fingers to prevent it from spilling further, and pushes the pearly essence back into you.

You shiver and sigh, resting a hand over your womb while you caress his shoulder with the other as you shut your eyes in the moment of blissful tranquility, post-coitus.

“I just hope I make a worthy enough father.”

You don’t mean to snort, but you do. “You will, mi amor. The real concern is whether we’ll be able to muster the stamina to work on the farm chores and fuck like this until you put a baby in me,” is your vivacious chuckle as you hook your arm around his shoulders to guide him back down to lie on top of you while he scoffs irreverently at you.

“I have plenty of stamina, always,” he purrs against your mouth before brushing his lips against it.

“Good. I yearn to be ravished by you daily, after all, so you’ll need it,” is your alluring coo before kissing him amorously.

You only break the kiss to bat your lashes at him before susurrating, “I want you to make me yours again and again, until dawn comes, and then all over again, precioso.”

He chuckles that deep, gravelly laugh before crooning melodically, “As you wish, mi amada.”

_____________________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Caldero = Cauldron, for cooking over a hot flame

Condesa = Countess; a woman of nobility

Tigresita = Tiger Lilly; little tigress

Bueno = So; also ‘Good’ or ‘Well’

Guerrero = Warrior (male)

Mi amada = My beloved (female)

Mi marido = My husband

Bebita = Little baby (female)

No me tortures, por favor = Don’t torture me, please

Mi tigresita valiente = My valient little tigress

Tentador = Tempter (male)

Esposa = Wife

Mi amor = My love

Mujer = Woman

Ternura = Tenderness; akin to saying ‘sweetheart’

Precioso = Precious (male); gorgeous one

No seas tan gallardo, y come = Don’t be so gallant and eat

No seas tan porfiada y come, condesa = Don’t be so stubborn and eat, countess

Travieso = Naughty/Mischievous boy

Misericordia, mujer - Mercy, woman

Que malo = So bad (male)

La pobrecita = The poor little thing; poor little girl

Por favor, mi amor, dámelo = Please, my love, give it to me

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Amada = Beloved

Ah, D-Dios mío = Oh, my God

Nobleza = Nobility

Mi guerrero obstinado = My obstinate warrior

Mi alma = My soul; passionate term of endearment that eludes to the profound love someone feels, aka to the soul

Te amo, precioso = I love you, precious boy

Te amo y te adoro con todo que tengo, mi alma = I love and I adore you with all I have, my soul

Soldadito = Little soldier (male)

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