#i have googled for some references but probably not enough.

[hey-scully-itsme]

the thing about me as an artist is that i will draw one relatively simple thing and when it turns out good im immediately like 'oh okay nothing will be difficult for me to draw ever again :)' and start working on something way more complicated and get surprised when it takes longer and i need references. like what do you mean this drawing with a background and furniture and two full-body characters in formal clothing is harder to draw than the medium shot of two characters in casual clothing on a blank background.

[thatonebjp]

Finally did that third Signpost Uncommon cycle

[itwoodbeprefect]

been watching k-pop music videos because there's incredibly mesmerizing stuff in there choreography-wise, and my favorite lyric i've encountered by FAR has to be "thank you for ironing me who was wrinkled" (in BTS's save me, which also happens to have a really cool single shot video!). 10/10, no notes.

[sesamenom-sideblog]

actually i changed my mind i'm inflicting my tags upon all of you

Damn good XKCD today if you haven’t seen it, lads.

[sea-lanterns]

RIDE ME!

synopsis: (cowgirl! au) what's better than riding a horse? a cowgirl.

featuring: navia, dehya, shinobu, clorinde, beidou, arlecchino

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, strap ons, riding, reader on top for the most part, teasing, strap ons refered to as c.o.ck and other synonyms, pet names, possessiveness, jealousy, potential poor translation of french from google translate (navia), slight cunnilingus (shinobu), size kink (beidou), handcuffs (clorinde), degradation (clorinde, arlecchino), usage of whore/slut (clorinde, arlecchino), captor x prisoner dynamic (arlecchino), belly bulge (beidou), may be ooc.

art credits: black lagoon

NAVIA

“Oh my, your cute little legs are shaking so much, ma cherie!*”

Navia giggles to herself when you find yourself panting and struggling to take all of Navia’s length inside of you. The thick toy causing your throat to tighten and whine, because Navia just had to pick something so damn big and long to shove up your pussy.

“N-Navia…” you grit through your teeth, some of the air knocking out of your lungs when the woman suddenly bucked her hips forward. “Yessss?” She replies nonchalantly, a smug look on her face when she sees the way you were struggling to properly ride her. “Did’ya…have to choose the biggest toy you could find?” You groan while glaring down at her sarcastically. 

“Oh honey, stop complaining…” Navia giggles, grabbing your hips and ripping a moan out of you when she begins bouncing you on her own. “You’re a big girl, so you can take a big dick on your own, hm?” 

With each riveting thrust, Navia had you bouncing on her hips like you were some excited little bunny, a look of pure satisfaction on the cowgirl’s face when she got an up close view of your pussy swallowing her cock each time you moved up and down. The sight was utterly breathtaking for the legendary cowgirl of your town, and you saw that she was in fact drooling a little bit from the way your cum was dripping down her shaft. 

“Oh, baise-moi, tu es si belle*.” Navia mumbled under her breath, eyes glazing over in a mesmerized way. “I can’t believe you’re mine…”

She chuckles at the way your body twitches from the constant hammering of her hips, so she decides to cut the tension a bit by grabbing her cowgirl hat lying on top of the night stand and placing it over your eyes. 

“There, now you look like a proper cowgirl.” Navia giggles, clutching your hips and smiling at the way her oversized hat tilts forward to cover your eyes. “Now ride me properly, you silly cowgirl. No horse is too big for you to tame…”

She lets out another cheery smile and continues to brutally thrust her hips at that. 

English translations taken from Google Translate: *my love, *fuck me, you’re so beautiful

DEHYA

“(Chuckle), is the princess unable to tame this bull on her own?” 

Dehya smirks cockily at the way you trembled like a leaf on top of her, the look of pure determination on your face as you attempted to get all seven inches of her strap deep inside you. You would’ve gotten all of it fitting snugly by now, but Dehya had been teasing you for the entirety of your session, smirking and gently patting your hips in a condescending manner, that really had you distracted to the point you struggled greatly with even fitting the first few inches.

“Oh, princess…” Dehya chuckles, eying the way your pussy was just drooling over her shaft like it was trying to lube itself as much as it could. Probably because it needed that much lube in the first place, and the sheer amount of precum you were excreting was enough to make your ears go hot in shame. “I’ve never seen you produce so much slick without orgasming, darlin’”

“Shut up…!” you whimpered, giving Dehya a snarky glare. “I’m not used to riding you on top!”

“It’s really not that hard, babe,” Dehya sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Trust me, riding a woman is a lot easier than riding a bull, and I know from both experiences.” She clicks her tongue and winks at you. “So why don’t you give it another shot, come on, I know you can do it.”

She gives you an encouraging pat on the ass and leans back, making sure to stretch her stomach a little bit so her abs could shine under the sunset’s rays. The sight of Dehya looking so relaxed and confident in you gave you the little boost you needed to ease up and slowly slide down to the hilt. 

With a strangled gasp, you let out a pretty little whine that made Dehya practically groan with pleasure. “Such a pretty noise you made there, princess,” Dehya husks, trailing one of her thumbs to push at your clit. “Can you make more? You’re usually singing like a canary by now…”

She chuckles and helps you ease down the rest of her cock, noting the tiny twitch in your legs as you struggle to ground yourself to reality. “Ah, poor thing’s all tuckered out just from sitting down,” Dehya grins, sitting up slightly to whisper in your ear. “Would you like this bull to help ride for you?”

When you were unable to respond, feeling too unbearably full from her cock, Dehya smirks and shifts her hands to rest on your hips. “I guess that’s a yes from the pretty little lady.”

Holding you close to her muscled body, she begins to thrust upwards at a brutal place, tip hitting so deep inside you it had you bouncing till you weren’t even moving on your own…

SHINOBU

“Having difficulty, sweet thing?” Shinobu whispers in that raspy voice of hers, eyes glinting forwards at you like a cat, as she watches the way you involuntarily jerked at her thrusts from her strap on pounding inside you. Shinobu was by no means a gentle woman of any kind, yet when it came to you, the sweet darling bachlorette of small town Inazuma, the outlaw was considerably generous to you, given by the fact that she could wreck your delicate pussy at any time she wanted. 

With that in mind however, Shinobu was being awfully patient with how long it took for you to adjust to her strap. The toy was not even breaking five inches, yet when you tried to stuff it inside you from the top —eager to ride Shinobu like a first time rodeo gal— you almost cried from the sheer stretch you felt of her shaft spearing you open. 

“Oh, baby…” Shinobu hummed to herself out of pity, reaching a hand forward to ease your walls a little more by playing with your clit. “You gotta loosen up, babe. I’m about to slip right out again if you’re this tight right now…”

“S-Sorry…” you grimaced, trying desperately to get your body to relax. “I don’t know why it won’t go in…”

“You’re too tense, babe.” Shinobu chuckles, pulling her bandanna down to slip her long tongue out to lick at her teeth. “Do you want me to help you? I certainly can, all you need to do is ask…”

With the way she was licking her teeth seductively and showing off her impressively long tongue, you felt your cunt drip a bit more as just the sight of it had you drooling out of arousal. “Yes please,” you mumble softly, letting Shinobu lift you off her cock and place you back down on the bed. She eased herself lower so that she was now eye level with your cunt, and began licking slow, languid strokes with her tongue until she was able to see your folds loosen up a bit.

“Atta girl…” Shinobu mumbles breathlessly, gripping your thighs to keep you from squirming and pressing deep nail indents into your skin. “Tastier than any ambrosia they serve at that damned bar…”

She groans and pulls you down to kiss at your stomach, playfully nipping the skin right above your belly button before staring up at you hungrily. 

“Do you still wanna ride me, doll?” She asks in a husky tone. 

You shake your head no. 

“Tch, spoiled girl…” she grins and raises your legs up on her shoulders so that she can angle her strap to fuck you. “You should be grateful I’m so lenient on a sweet thing like you…”

And with that, she has you clawing at the sheets as the outlaw prods her tip through your folds…

CLORINDE

“What a naughty girl, unable to keep your hands to yourself…” 

Sheriff Clorinde smirks to herself as the jingle of your handcuffs move with every bounce you take on Clorinde’s strap. The sheriff having chosen a curved, purple dildo as a strap for you to ride on, as this was your punishment for provoking the sheriff while on duty for patrol.

How did you provoke her you may ask? Well, let’s just say parading around in a short skirt, casting flirtatious winks at the gunslinger and whispering how much you wanted her to destroy you was a one way ticket to pound town with Clorinde and your hands bound together with metal cuffs. 

“But Sheriff, I was only vying for your attention…” you pouted, whining when you felt her hands grip your ass and keep you seated downward on the smooth, warm, toy. 

“Vying for my attention, you say?” Clorinde raises a brow, tugging on the chain between your cuffs so that you’d suddenly lurch backwards with a yelp. “Nearly the entire town saw the way you were crooning for me. Don’t you have any shame?” 

She gave a particularly hard thrust at the word shame, grinning to herself when she saw the way you began leaking all over the toy and crying. “What’s wrong you needy girl, have you sprung a leak?” She teases, trailing a finger down to scoop up some of your essence. “Weren’t you whining for my attention earlier? Come on, where’s that excited spark I saw earlier…”

She continues to roll her hips —albeit at a slower pace— before tilting her head up at you and sighing. “You know better than to make me jealous, sweet thing.” She sits up to whisper in your ear and holds your waist a little tighter. “Navia, Furina, and practically all the cowgirls in town had seen you parading yourself in such ludicrous ways. Only I have the pleasure of seeing you, alright?” 

She grunts and begins to roll her hips a bit faster, practically grinding into you to the point all you could feel down there was Clorinde’s strap rearranging your insides. 

“Clorinde…” you gasped when she suddenly pulled you forward to place a delicate little kiss on your mouth, completely contrasting the way she was currently pummeling you with her cock till all you could see were stars.

“That’s sheriff to you, slut.”

BEIDOU

“Well damn, I didn’t know a gal as sweet as you could take a cock this well…”

Beidou laughed as she rested back on the bed frame and placed her arms behind her head. She looked as relaxed as can be while she watched the prettiest girl in town —that’d be you— lazily bounce on her strap with determination. Usually the rugged cowgirl would be on top of you, molding your body to fit hers as she pounded her cock to the oblivion, but this time you wanted to try something different. Something you always wanted to do ever since watching Beidou wrangle some of those wild horses.

“I admit, when you first asked to ride me, I didn’t think you were serious,” Beidou sneers, “But after seeing how determined you are, it seems like you’d make quite the good cowgirl if you keep this up.”

She smiles and tilts your chin up to look at her, an endearing grin on the cowgirl’s face as she continues letting you “take the reins” so to speak. 

“Like I’d ever want to ride a horse though,” you chuckle jokingly, barely hiding a moan as it slips past your lips. “I’d rather just tame a woman…”

“You already did, darlin’” Beidou smirks, pushing you down a little further till there was a slight bulge in your stomach from her cock. “You could tame any woman out here if you could, ya little rascal…”

Your body involuntarily shuddered when you felt her tip push so deep inside you, the ridged edges of her strap feeling so good against your walls, as they milked her for everything that she was worth. “Gentle now…” you groaned, feeling stuffed to the brim from the way she was handling you. “Is this how you treat all the ladies you bed with?”

“No, just this lady.” Beidou chuckles. “Am I too rough?” 

“Not…exactly.” You whimpered, steadying yourself as Beidou bucks her hips a bit harder. “I just need to get used to it, that’s all…”

Beidou smiled softly at this, before murmuring a curse under her breath and pushing her bangs back in amusement. “Oh fuck me little lady…you’re absolutely precious…”

She can’t stop herself from grinning before grabbing your hips and helping you bounce up and down her shaft. At the extra pressure and boost in speed, you nearly creamed yourself and cried while Beidou kept you upright in her arms. 

“Well if you’re so lenient on me being a bit rougher, then perhaps I shouldn’t be so gentle on you anymore, little lady…”

And she kept her word, having you eyes roll back in bliss as she leans forward to suck a nipple into her mouth.

ARLECCHINO

“Tch…I see why that small town of yours was so angry at me for taking you…” Arlecchino husks, the smoke from her cigar fogging up your senses while you sit upright on her lap with her cock buried inside you. “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes, aren’t you?”

She slips the cigar out of her mouth and puts it out on the ashtray beside her, blowing some smoke into your face and watching as you grimace and cough with a frown. “Sensitive too,” she remarks, smirking and caressing your face with the sharp nails you were oh so terrified of. 

“A-Anyone would grimace if they had smoke blow back in their face…” you grunt, glaring down at your captor while you rode her strap with need. “It’s rude to do that anyhow, y’know.”

“I think you’re forgetting I’ve done much ruder things,” the bandit leader chuckles with amusement. “For example, kidnapped you and kept you for ransom. Isn’t that much worse than blowing smoke in your face, doll?” 

Your face scowled down at her and she only grinned at the way you were pouting. “Oh, don’t make that face sweet thing. It’s not like I have you tied up and chained to a post in the desert. You willingly came in here to fuck me, so don’t act so innocent now…”

She flashes you a sneering look before moving her hips a bit rougher so that you could really feel how hard and perfect her cock felt inside you. The way your lips part and glisten with barely contained drool had Arlecchino stroking her ego faster than you could come undone. The sight of your town’s prized jewel now drooling and riding her cock with pathetic need was sending the bandit leader into another state of superiority.

“Oh how I wish that sheriff of yours could see you now,” Arlecchino chuckles, “Clorinde was it? My, she was seething at the way I had you gripped in my arms. She looked like she would shoot me dead right on the spot if I hadn’t been carrying you.”

She was on a power trip, a glistening of madness in those red, X-shaped pupils of hers, as she began bouncing you harder against her strap. 

“You like that though, I know. A whore like you just loves being the center of attention amongst all those rugged cowgirls…”

She scoffs and sits up to bite a hickey onto your neck, enjoying the way you squirmed and clung onto her shoulders immediately once you felt her teeth on your skin. 

“Tell you what, once that sheriff of yours comes up with the sum of money I want, you send her back a little message for me, m’kay?” She growls and practically grips your ass into her clawed hands. “I want you to show her every little bite, hickey, and scratch I leave on your body, so she knows you had fun with me in my tent. Got it?”

You nodded enthusiastically before whining at the way she was now speeding her thrusts. 

“Good whore.”

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hello I am going on a holiday to Eryri next month & I like to read up about an area before going there... do u have any reading or documentary or podcast recs? I'm particularly interested in the ecology & minority language activism & like. Peoples history & rural lives! I know this is stuff u know about in Wales but idk if north Wales is ur region! Míle buiochas ón Eireann!

Fáilte go dtí an Bhreatain Bheag! Or croeso i Gymru. Exciting! Keep an eye on the notes for others chiming in with good recs for documentaries and the like, I'm going to just give a super quick guide

Okay, pronunciation guide for place names and that is here in written form and here in video form. I cannot recommend strongly enough that you try to use the Welsh place names rather than the English translations. Duolingo is flawed but serviceable if you want to hear and learn some basic phrases. If you can at least throw out a 'bore da' to people you pass/shopkeepers, you'll be very well liked. You don't need to be fluent by any means, but Making An Effort is seen as, like, the nicest and politest and most wonderful thing in Wales, and particularly in regions like Eryri.

Because! It's one of the biggest remaining Welsh language strongholds. If you look at language maps over time in Wales, a pattern emerges:

And the current (2021) figures show this:

And you are going to this bit:

So you're heading into the Welshest bit in all of Wales! And the bit with the strongest and longest history of Welsh, too.

Which also means there's a lot of activism-related stuff in that area. It's probably worth you reading up on the history of Tryweryn (which was a bit further east, but sets the scene well); there was also a BIG thing a couple of decades ago where activists would burn down English-owned holiday homes (while they were empty in winter, not, like, with the English in them). This is because, in addition to the usual issues with the social impacts of holiday homes (driving up prices meaning locals can't live there, eroding communities, etc), holiday homes in Welsh language heartlands are a significant and tangible threat to the language. Even today, the issue of holiday homes is an extremely touchy subject, as is the issue of (mostly-English) people moving into the area because "It's so pretty!!!" and then not learning the language.

(Yet another reason they will love you if you Make An Effort)

Historically speaking, you'll be in a chunk of the country that was the ancestral seat of the last kings of Wales (Gwynedd). The final one, Llywelyn ein Llyw Olaf, was ambushed and murdered in 1282, which was the beginning of the end for fighting off English rule. In fact, Owain Glyndŵr later crowned himself king of Wales for about two years, but weirdly, no one acknowledges this as real kingship for some reason - if you google his name, he's always listed as a soldier or military commander, which really opens up a whole "Who gets to say when someone is royalty" debate, but he did actually claim descent from the House of Aberffraw anyway, so ultimately it still links back to Llywelyn.

Ecology! Temperate alpine. There actually isn't a global scientific distinction between hill and mountain, but most countries set an arbitrary height standard. This means it varies from country to country depending on how tall their topology is. Wales, however, bucks this trend, and instead decides based on what is formally referred to as 'land use' and colloquially referred to as 'Vibes'. If it's a hill, it's tamed - if it's a mountain, it's wild. This means Eryri is fairly short by the standards of tedious foreigners who regard mountains as a sort of geological dick waving competition, but it's in fact a whole mountain range; it's also older than Saturn's rings. And, crucially, it's very much sufficiently above sea level to have an alpine ecosystem.

There are three endemic (i.e. not occurring anywhere else in the world) species in Eryri, to whit:

The Snowdon lily. A small and delicate flower growing in protected and inaccessible spots on yr Wyddfa (formally known as Snowdon). Excessively vulnerable to trampling, so the national park keeps sections where it grows fenced off.

The Snowdon beetle. RAINBOW BEETLE.

The gwyniad. A sub-species of whitefish until recently exclusively found in Llyn Tegid (Bala Lake), trapped there after the ice age and now developing its own genetic profile distinct from other whitefish. Some dickhead in the 80s introduced the ruffe to the lake for fishing, and the ruffe eats the gwyniad's eggs, so they've now transplanted eggs to Llyn Arenig Fawr nearby as a conservation measure.

There's also feral goats. And Welsh mountain ponies. Ooh, and, red kites - in the UK red kites were so heavily persecuted they eventually fell to just 7 breeding pairs in Wales. We established a protected zone and hired Nepalese Gurkhas to guard the nests and thus saved it from extirpation so successfully they later translocated Welsh birds to other spots in the UK. It's a big conservation success story, and now red kites are considered to be the national bird of Wales. They have a very distinctive silhouette, too, look for the forked tail.

Oh, and, we have a unique habitat type called ffridd, which you see a lot of in Eryri.

Final wildlife pictures to close:

Anyway - have a great time! Enjoy muchly.

[blitzbuckzowild]

Blitzo and Pirates

I had some more thoughts about Helluva Boss recently and I’m not sure if this is something that has been addressed. A quick google search says no, but obviously that means nothing. Sorry if I’m repeating something that other people have said.

So Blitz maintains his love of horses from childhood right? However, the same cannot be said for his love of Pirates. I would say in the episode “The Circus” his love of pirates is way more prominent than that of horses. It makes sense for him to maintain both of those loves, especially horses as that could be a way to stay connected to Fizzarolli given that he made good balloon horses.

I do still think he likes horses as a kid, seeing as he knew the horse fact about them eating sugar, and then he talks about it later in the episode when he and Stolas are sitting under the tree. But yeah, he seems to really like the action and adventure of pirates. He thinks they’re cool and obviously he talks about them a lot even outside of the episode since Fizz seems exasperated in a way that indicates this is a common occurrence.

So what could have possibly caused Blitzo to lose that interest? I think it’s very clearly shown in the same episode, “The Circus.”

I think it is safe to assume, that when Blitzo is sent to play with Stolas for the day, that robbing the house was not something he had ever done before. He seems so confused and afraid of the idea of even trying to steal, and I don’t think it’s just because they’re royals. I doubt he has even had to do a job like this before just based on his confusion about the whole situation.

Then we look at when he actually goes to the Goetia palace to play with Stolas. He literally uses the idea of playing pirates to trick Stolas into helping him rob the place. Blitzo seems to be having fun during the whole thing, but I am wondering if when the excitement and adrenaline ran out, if he felt guilty. We obviously haven’t seen that, but it seems like a fairly strong theory.

I mean, he does not talk about pirates as an adult like at all (unless I’m forgetting a line), and the only reference we even have to it would be his flintlock pistol and its design, maybe his attire somewhat, but I don’t really think he was going for pirate.

So, this is what I’ve been found myself wondering, if the reason that the idea of pirates have lost their appeal, whereas horses haven’t leads back to feelings of shame around what was probably the first crime he ever committed. Not to mention that he tricked someone who was genuinely kind to him into helping him. I think Blitz downplays the effect his day with Stolas had on him, because how else would he just so happen to remember the Grimoire? I that’s already been talked about. I wonder how often Blitz ruminated on what he had done let himself sit in the shame and guilt and the thought of pirates just remind him of that.

Maybe I’m waaaaay over analyzing this whole thing, but I found it interesting enough to point out and see what other’s think.

[annabelle--cane]

so I don’t have the knowledge of details that you have (complimentary) but is there anything in the computer code Colin looking into being written in German and Jonah Magnus’ buddy living in the Black Forest and finding that crypt that one time? Or is that Too far a reach?

vibrating at the speed of sound. so there are a couple of floating details around from the podcasts, the arg, and some promotional materials that may point back to germany having particular relevance. some of this is absolutely me going full pepe silvia, but there are enough threads here that I feel like it has to amount to Something.

so. germany.

archives 'verse:

-> point 1: johann von württemberg. while staying with his nephew in the schwartzwald in 1816, albrecht von closen finds an old mausoleum with the inscription "johann von württemberg" over the door, and it is guarded by a man with no eyes who nonetheless seems to be able to see. in a deep chamber well beneath the ground is johann's coffin, and the room is completely lined with books so old that they'd all rotted through and fused together, the marble shelves they're placed on having little carvings of open eyes all along them. the only two objects in a good state are an illuminated manuscript in arabic that had been kept apart from the rest of the books, and a gold coin with an engraving of a young man with flowing hair, the initials "JW," the year 1279, and the words "für die stille" (google translate tells me that’s “for the silence”). albrecht asks around for any information about johann because the name is unfamiliar despite his quite good knowledge about local history and nobles, and someone says they remember him being called "ulrich's bastard," likely referring to ulrich the i or ii, two counts of württemberg from the 1200s. with that information, in the present day jon is able to find some historical records that point to ulrich i having a son out of wedlock in 1255 who was rumored to keep the company of witches.

-> point 2: the von closens. it seems that a servant nicked the coin albrecht found before he could go home with it, and that was probably for the best for albrecht, because that servant Died Badly from what was ruled to be an animal attack. albrecht did take the book with him, however, and presumably went on to show it to jonah magnus. he then must have gone back for the rest of the rotten books at some point, though, because when doctor jonathan fanshawe visits his estate in 1831, albrecht has a full library of recently re-bound books that he tells fanshawe he got from the tomb, and owning them has done terrible beholding-esque things to him. fanshawe, in his capacity as a doctor, says they should return the books for albrecht's health, and they do so, but just as the last book is returned, albrecht dies, and fanshawe realizes that all the books were blank and finds out that jonah arranged to have them all swapped out by the book binder. when fanshawe performs an autopsy on albrecht's body, all of his insides are covered in eyes.

in his statement from 1816, albrecht says he and his wife carla have been unable to conceive, though in 1831 fanshawe mentions that all of albrecht's sons were away at school when he came to visit. not something that's impossible, they could have managed to have children shortly after 1816, but it does make me raise an eyebrow. magically blessed fertility? dimension shenanigans? fanshawe does mention a tree being burned on the von closen estate that feels remarkably similar to the tree on hilltop road.

anyway, wilhelm, albrecht's nephew, has some children, and the family stays in germany for about another century, but one branch eventually moves to england, and their descendants include mary and gerard keay. according to gerry, mary was big into mythologizing about the von closens and really tried to get him to continue her idea of a legacy for the family, but he thought most of what she said was made up.

protocol 'verse:

-> point 3: colin's comment about source code being written in german. nothing much to explain here, just that it's Weird that source code for some Weird bespoke program for the british civil service is written in german, right? Bit Odd.

-> point 4: the usenet forum. okay so I'm an avatar of the idiot and only read up about the arg after it was already over and don't know anything about code and whatnot, but as best as I can understand: on the OIAR's official website, if you try to submit a form, you get an error message, and if you look into the source code for the error then you find Some piece of code with an IP address shaped hole in it, and there's an IP address hidden in an OIAR advertising video, so you put that IP address into the code, do something else (???), and then find yourself at an old defunct usenet forum from the 90s/00s for people who left east germany.

(it is from here that I got too verbose for my own good, so the rest is under a cut)

notable things about the forum: most of it is pretty normal, and, naturally, it was pretty much all in german, massive shoutout to everyone who helped to translate all 21k words of it. there are threads about finding work in various countries, weird cultural idiosyncrasies, resources, reminiscing about berlin, yknow, normal stuff. the mod “SandmannS” (translates to exactly what it looks like) ran the forum with a bit of an iron fist, which I guess makes sense, it’s the kind of forum that attracted people who wanted to say some heinous stuff and he was really serious about not letting anyone solicit personal information, but he was also kind of overzealous about keeping threads on topic and locking any discussions that he thought were “pointless.” he was eventually strongarmed into opening a thread for cat pictures, and that’s as good an opening as any to talk about some of the Weird things about the forum.

one of the cat photos was posted in february 1994 and shows a cat standing in front of the thames, with what looks like the completed o2 arena in full view (great choice of a red flag landmark to include @ whoever chose it. nice big landmark that was called “the millennium dome” when it first opened, a handy reminder that it was made to celebrate the turn of the millennium and construction wouldn't even have started in 1994). several comments across the threads are dated as earlier than the comments they’re replying to, one person references the content of the phantom menace a few months before its release, and several comments were somehow made after the mod locked the forum in dec 2001/jan 2002.

and okay. the forum locking. I’m going to condense this to all hell because this is already [redacted] words long but basically, “einsamernarr” (translation: lonely fool) was an active user of the forum with a big conspiratorial streak, real paranoid about “the government” spying on him, always getting warnings and just dodging getting banned just before going too far, yknow, a Type of Guy. in december 2001, he mentions in a book rec thread that he was trolling through some databases and found a bunch of old records and he can’t tell if they’re fictional or not, but he’d like to share them if he can. about five days later, he starts posting in several threads that he did something really dumb, people are after him, the meetup they were planning is not safe and this forum is being watched, people should look for him if he doesn’t come back within a week, and he’ll try to leave some info behind for them just in case. a few days later, a couple of people post worried messages asking if anyone’s heard from einsamernarr and that they’ve been getting weird cryptic emails about an “institute” from him, and sandmanns says that he did everything he could, but he can’t keep doing this, and he closes the forum.

marina “avatar of the idiot” annabelle--cane showing my face here again, I don’t know how this next part happened, but it’s possible to retrieve the email einsamernarr sent, open it with a password found in colin’s code repository (that’s a whole ‘nother thing), and find inside: 1. some pictures of bonzobucks, 2. a weird pdf of an old german book on alchemy with a lot of symbols and codes in it, and 3. a spreadsheet of the names, ages, and test results of the hundreds of children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was performing psych studies on. which finally brings us to our next, much shorter section.

-> point 5: “gerard kaey” (sic). gerry’s name is on that spreadsheet, which I think is relevant to this conversation given mary’s obsession with the von closen legacy. archives ‘verse mary keay resented the magnus institute for what she felt it stood for comparison to what she felt she stood for; she saw jonah magnus as a thief who stole away her family’s honor, so what might be different about the protocol ‘verse situation? why would mary keay in this universe send her only heir to go get scrutinized by a bunch of self-important academics?

-> point 6: the berlin dead drop. more arg stuff, we’re getting into things that I’m sure probably have more to be said about them than I’m capable of saying, but from some clues in a picture of cookbooks that einsamermarr posted in the cat pictures thread of the usenet forum to annoy the mod, and a voicemail on the OIAR’s telephone line, people found out the date and location of the first irl arg event, and it was for somewhere in berlin. a newspaper covered in alchemical symbols was found in a bookshop, and from that people somehow derived coordinates, and those coordinates lead to the last irl event where a battered old video tape with a video of a creepy ritual was found (note: the tape was too badly damaged, so another copy of the video came from an arg affiliated tumblr account).

-> point 7: klaus.xls. from a floppy disk found in the second irl arg event, klaus.xls is a spreadsheet originally written in german with about 100 dates and times of potentially paranormal sightings. a lot of it is corrupted and unreadable, but there are columns for category, rank, “TSHU,” and notes. translated into english, notes sections that aren’t corrupted say things like “mr. b,” “war people,” “avoid, “unhappy child,” “ink,” “lady m,” “cats lol,” and “I hate witches.”

-> point 8: albertus magnus and the philosopher’s stone. right, this is where I go a bit off the rails, and credit to this post by @misfitmagpie for discovering some of this. first, nearly every official visual we’ve had for tmagp has been covered in alchemy symbols. they’re all over the logo, they’re all over the in-universe OIAR and magnus institute websites, they highlighted hints in the arg, they’re everywhere, and the end goal of alchemy was the pursuit of the mythical philosopher’s stone, a substance that could turn base metals into gold and produce an elixir for eternal life. the tmagp logo/the coat of arms for the OIAR is centered around an upside down alchemical symbol for the philosopher’s stone, a circle in a square in a triangle in a larger circle. 

albertus magnus (aka saint albert the great) was a bavarian philosopher and scientist who did some writing on alchemy and has been widely rumored to secretly have been a master alchemist, mainly as a result of a lot of people attaching his name to writings about alchemy that he never touched. some have credited him as discovering the actual philosopher’s stone, and while he never made that claim in any way that survives, he did record that he’d witnessed seeing base metals be turned into gold. something of which to take note is that he didn’t go by the name “magnus” during his life, that was appended to him posthumously, it’s just another way of calling him “the great” with a fancy latin word, but it does kind of remind me of that edmond “reimer” halley -> maxwell rayner thing from mag 140. if you discovered the elixir of life and became immortal, you would probably need to nab a new identity at some point, and if people have already been nicknaming you “albert the great,” well…

anyway, the thing that’s really cemented his potential relevance in my mind is his birth and death dates: c. 1200-1280, lining up perfectly with the time period of johann von württemberg (thought we’d moved on from him, didn’t you?). I know magnus timelines are notoriously a bit unruly, especially the further back into the past we get, but it’s scratching at my brain. besides that, I think it would be a really cool move if the magnus this podcast is named for was a completely different person than the magnus the last podcast was named for.

if albertus magnus isn’t directly relevant then I’ve got another theory about the title that I’ll be posting in a hot minute, but it’s not germany related and this ask is already long enough. 

just, to sum up, a lot of protocol content so far has been germany-adjacent, and even if nothing more comes of it I think there are a lot of interesting threads here to speculate about.

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Frank is Pisces

I made a thread for this theory on TSBS Discord server and it blew up (it blew up so much more than I ever thought it would, like Jesus Christ. I'm super happy about it though). I figured that since I moved all my canon info stuff over here from the server, I might as well move my theory stuff over too

Long post warning, since there's a lot here. A lot of this exists because I was possessed by my adhd demon one night, noticed something about Frank, and then ran wild with it

(Last two pictures are part of a chart that SqarletGecko made for this theory. If Sqarlet sees this at any point, hi, hello! I appreciate you for feeding into this, Sqarlet)

There will be more images tacked on later. I'd add them now, but unfortunately, there's a 10 picture limit to posts. As stupid as that is. ANYWAY

Frank’s strong enough to kill two different witherstorms. Although him outright killing them was never verified, it was one of the only ways he could’ve come back so soon. The only other way would’ve been to wait by the portal, but assuming Moon would’ve closed it off due to the dimensions that Frank was in housing witherstorms, Frank would’ve had to find another way out

His name is neither Frank nor Forkface, so it’s entirely possible that it could be Pisces

Sqarlet pointed out that Castor said “Pisces is probably off doing his own thing”, which could be anything, and it certainly doesn’t preclude Pisces being on earth as Frank, doing whatever he’s been doing

In the “Lunar Gets Friendzoned” vrchat episode, Castor mentions Pisces again, this time saying (in reference to how Lunar’s “final test” would go, and how someone would be sent to judge his ability to control his powers) “Could be Nebula, could be Libra. Could be Pisces, but I doubt that. Hell, it could even be Taurus.” This is the second time Castor’s mentioned Pisces, as if he doesn’t have a whopping 10 other signs he could pull names from (minus Gemini and Pisces, obviously). This could be a case of simply sticking to a smaller pool out of the 12 names, but still

Castor has mentioned Pisces offhandedly two different times. Yeah, there could be a really simple explanation for that, but it sticks out to me, and I can't pinpoint why

During an Uno video, they did a “one breath for yes, two for no” thing with Frank, and he confirmed that he had a bad past. Given some of the things that Castor has said about Taurus, it’s a possibility that Frank/Pisces was trying to get away from him. Some other Pisces traits are that they’re supposed to be super empathetic and deeply emotional. If Taurus said or did something that impacted Frank/Pisces enough, he could’ve chosen to leave

For a while, Frank didn’t seem to react much when people acted scared of him, but as he’s spent more time with the channels, he’s developing more emotionally, which would make sense if he was younger. According to a google search I ran, “Pisces emotional sensitivity is high, helping them to remain in tune with others also leaving them vulnerable to criticism, worrying about about the effects that their actions might have on others,” which could explain why he acted so sad when he briefly appeared in the lobby in an FFFS episode and everyone acted scared of him

Pisces has a heightened emotional sensitivity, they're very in tune with the emotions of those around them, and this in turn makes them worry about how others might react to them

In another Uno video, Foxy made a lighthearted comment to Frank about how he reminded him of his son, since he has a habit of inserting himself into situations and things. There are other characters who do this too, meaning that Foxy could’ve compared Frank to literally anyone, and yet, he chose a character that’s a child. If Frank is Pisces, he’d be the youngest of the astral bodies

If you watch him, Frank does have some childlike mannerisms and behaviors. The first thing is the way he sometimes wants to show someone something, but then gets upset when they touch it. It’s like when a kid gets a new toy and shows their friend, but then gets upset when their friends tries playing with it because it’s theirs. The second thing is him apparently drawing on the wall underneath Earth’s bed. Drawing on walls is something that kids do. The third thing is him trying to feed Earth a piece of pizza. Kids will sometimes try to feed people too, though it’s typically only with people they’re close with, that they know pretty well

If Frank is Pisces and therefore the youngest of the astral bodies, there’s a chance that he chose to show up in the daycare because he knows it’s a safe place for kids, and that there are good caretakers there (Sun, Moon, Earth, and Lunar). He could’ve chosen a daycare attendant-esque form to blend in better with the daycare environment, or he could’ve copied what he saw of the caretakers there, much like how kids copy the adults they see

Pisces is the youngest of the astral bodies, so everything that Frank does that seems like something a kid might do,, could sort of tie in with that. Frank has seemed to somewhat mature and "grow up" in a sense as of recently though, so these childlike habits and behaviors have begun to become rarer and rarer

Pisces has ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious. This could explain the times when Frank appeared in both Monty and Earth’s dreams, and then dragged the Stitchwraith into his own mind. In the case of Monty’s dream, Frank knew that they’d had problems with their dad and he’d even offered to be their listening ear, so seeing the shape Monty was in emotionally and mentally after their dad died, Frank may have guided them to an image of their dad to try to promote a form of closure and emotional healing and recovery before Monty woke up (did I mention that being a healer is also a Pisces trait?). He was silent in the dream, so Monty’s mind couldn't have heard his signature heavy breathing and did something funky with that. In Earth’s case, Frank somehow knew that she was having a nightmare and he came to wake her up, repeatedly saying “no fear”, as if he was telling her not to be afraid. With the Stitchwraith, the Stitchwraith wasn’t aware that he’d been pulled into his own mind. Frank didn’t confirm that he was until he told the Stitchwraith that “It’s just a bad dream, a nightmare”, and told him to wake up

More Pisces traits are wanting to help people and being a healer. Adding in the ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious, I feel like creating dreams to help people recover from things wouldn't be too farfetched. In the case of Earth, Frank knew she was having a nightmare and wanted to wake her up so that she wouldn't be scared anymore. To this day, I have no way to explain how he could've possibly known about her having a nightmare, aside from sensing her distress and/or having some kind of connection to her subconscious

I found a snippet of an article that said “When we meet Pisces, we are taken aback by their remote coldness; they often act like confused geniuses or oddballs who have trouble interacting with others.” It’s confirmed that Frank is highly intelligent; he somehow knew how to get into Moon’s computer and registered himself as the primary user, and he somehow swiped Foxy’s voicebox and installed it in himself, then took it back out and reinstalled it in Foxy. Frank is also an oddball, but I don’t really need to explain that one

Frank has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t like Ruin. He’s had many opportunities to take him out or even just attack him, but he hasn’t. Castor has stated that astral bodies typically don’t get involved with things or associate with people unless they really need to. If Frank is Pisces, he may have avoided going after Ruin because it’d go against the rules

There are some mixed messages on whether or not Pisces is a rule follower, but a couple things I found that stuck out to me implied that sometimes they follow the rules, and sometimes they do whatever they want as long as they’re satisfied. We were given a glimpse of this with Frank when Lunar tried to run him over with a car in a vrchat episode. Frank didn’t seem to care as much about the fact that he was nearly run over, and instead, became agitated with Lunar for parking incorrectly. He also made Lunar get in his car, and then proceeded to move it out of the alley and to the drive thru, where Lunar was supposed to be anyways. He might’ve also reacted poorly to Monty and Earth bringing a goose into the restaurant they were in, since animals don’t belong there. Beyond that, Frank’s also gotten upset with Sun and tried to menacingly follow him around the room when Sun cheated during a game of Uno, showing that he doesn’t like cheaters

Frank seems to have a knack for interrupting people’s dates. Most of the time, he’s trying to help but doesn’t seem to grasp that his behavior might be making people uncomfortable, BUT according to google, the Pisces sign is known for being jealous of other people’s love lives. After the death of Ruined Monty, Frank may have started to feel a little jealous of others

According to google, “most Pisceans are very good at earning a stable living,” and “they are usually very effective in any career that needs collaboration with others or inventiveness.” It’s been stated before that Frank works in at least three different restaurants, and a restaurant type environment would require collaboration with others to keep everything running smoothly. He’d be earning good money from those three restaurant jobs, and another Pisces trait is wanting to help people, so working in a restaurant would be a way for him to do that

Strengths of Pisces would include being selfless and thoughtful, passionate and creative, gratitude and self-sacrifice, tolerance and a keen understanding, and being kind and sympathetic. Weaknesses of Pisces include being influenced by their surroundings, being careless, rash, and ill-disciplined, having an inability to confront reality due to an absence of confidence, being insecure, sentimentalism, indecisiveness, and a lack of foresight. These are all from a chart I found, and although I don’t think we’ve seen too many of these weaknesses in Frank yet, we’ve definitely seen a lot of the strengths

We have no idea where Frank was before he first showed up at the daycare. Fazbear apparently had him shipped in to replace Moon, but with how easily he got into Moon’s computer, it wouldn’t be too farfetched to assume that he could’ve possibly also hopped onto a different device and sent a fake email, posing as Fazbears to keep people from asking too many questions about why he’s there

Like Sqarlet has said, we’ve noticed a pattern of astral signs following the usual astrological descriptions, but it’s not necessarily a rule, nor is it to a T. It’s very possible that Frank mostly follows the general tendencies of Pisces, but still has individual quirks and such that are different. It could be a case where perfectionism or a preference for rule-following/organization is just a lil personal thing of his, unrelated to astrology

Another thing suggested by Sqarlet is that the Pisces dealio might explain why Frank’s general choice of appearance is generally uncanny/unsettling. Astral bodies don’t necessarily have a spectacular grasp on how to Aesthetic effectively, at least from an earthling’s perspective

Eclipse once used star power to get into Puppet’s dreamscape, when Puppet was on his way to get Lunar. If star power is what makes dreamscape stuff possible, then Frank would need access to it in order to do the same (see: all the dream stuff he did with Monty and him showing up in Stitchwraith’s dreamscape)

Whenever Frank appears, whoever he appears around is usually experiencing a negative emotion of some sort. Some instances of this can be seen when he showed up and tried to talk to Monty after Monty had a fight with their dad and was frustrated, when Earth and Sun were worrying about Lunar when Lunar lost his voice, when Sun got turned into a dragon and was panicking, and when Earth had a nightmare and was freaking out over it

Foxy’s implied that Frank was probably trying his best to be helpful, during all the dates that he unintentionally ruined. Which… means that although Frank is trying his best to be helpful, he might not understand what “normal” behavior looks like, then he messes up, and then he gets upset when people misunderstand him and his intentions, or when whatever he’s doing ends up backfiring in some way. Pisces’ loves to help others and can’t stand being misunderstood, so this lines up beautifully

During a podcast episode, Frank breathed heavier when Castor and Pollux were mentioned, implying that he may know them. Given how he even attempted to speak again, he likely had some kind of thoughts or feelings toward them, too

The astral bodies are typically aware of almost everything that happens. This might explain how Frank (if he’s Pisces) knew that Foxy would be alone on Christmas. It was only Foxy, Freddy, and Francine present when the Stitchwraith took FC, so unless Frank was spying on everyone or has taken to watching the channels like Ruin apparently does, he shouldn’t know what happened

If the Foxy’s Intervention episode is anything to go by, no one ever knows where Frank is, and yet, he still knows where he’s needed and goes there to help

With the way that Pisces deals with illusions just as much as dreams and the subconscious, it’s possible that the Frank that the Stitchwaith saw was just an illusion. This could explain why Frank wasn’t hit by Stitchwraith’s weird chest laser thing (unless he quickly teleported out of the way), and why we never saw him go up to the Stithwraith and try pushing him around or anything, despite how Frank was acting toward him. We’ve seen Frank physically interact with people before, so we know he can, but if he was an illusion, that wouldn’t be possible

Something else to consider that I haven't shared with the theory thread yet (that I can remember) is that when Pisces feels hurt or betrayed in any way, they can be incredibly vengeful. Their vengeance, according to a search I ran, could be intense enough to break trust and damage relationships, if they're not careful. In killing ruined Monty, Bloodmoon may have unknowingly made Frank feel so deeply hurt that Frank has now decided that he needs to get revenge on him. He kept saying things during their encounter that made it feel like he may be entertaining the idea of getting rid of one of the twins, which... follows a very "you took away someone who meant the world to me, let's see what happens when I do it to you" sort of logic

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 11: Teasing and tit Jobs

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

A/N: An update! Lol, this fic has been rotting in my google docs for too long. so i'm procrastinating my uni assignments due tomorrow, and i'm updating here. hope to get chapter 13 out by the end of may but we'll see how that goes lmao

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 12

Word Count: 4.2k

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

You’re off the medication, finally. 

That’s what your rational brain should have thought when you woke up, and no longer saw the white pills on the bedside table. No more gulping them down, no more harsh cough or aches. You were better.

You’re not thinking that however.

You’re staring at House while he’s sleeping; which is odd, you can admit. Maybe creepy. You don’t admonish yourself, however. How could you? He’s entrancing. You wish you had some paper here, hell, even a napkin or tissue, so you could scrawl and sketch, to have something tangible to look at later. 

You feel your heart twist at the notion. You might not wake up next to him again or ever; He might decide that just sex was horrible with you, and he never wants you in his bed again. Or he might have seen the way you looked at him last night, when you were rubbing his leg and easing his pain, and decided it was too much, too soon- decided that he was right at the start, and that there was no way you could ever stop your feelings for him from interfering with just sex .

Was he right? You knew that things had shifted in your heart after sleeping with him. Before, you could sidestep around the topic and push off any feelings as a simple whimsical thought, a school girl’s fantasy, and nothing more. Now, you want to kiss his lips and bite the apple of his cheek and suck his neck and tell him he’s yours and no one else's. Too much, too soon. You couldn’t do that, couldn’t tell him that- because House wasn’t yours. Sure, he seems intent on having more fun with you. But that was it. Just sex . He would never share the way you wanted him, he would never look at you with much else besides lust. 

But you don’t have paper, or a napkin, or a tissue. So you lay there, and as you stare at him, in the back of your mind you think this will do. If I can’t have him the way I want him, this will do.  

He looks at ease, for once. You know his leg is still bad and that even in his sleep, he’s probably scheming. But there’s no analysing gaze. He’s not staring down at some patient with mistrust and he’s not rolling his eyes at you and he’s not snapping at one of the ducklings. The notch in his brow isn’t so prominent and his mouth is open slightly as he breathes deeply. He’s relaxed, beside you. This will do.

His alarm goes off and you clench your eyes shut. 

You hear him shift, fumbling to hit the clock and finally flicking the right button to silence it’s blaring noise. He lays back against the mattress and settles with a sigh. You listen to him breathe and the overwhelming stillness of the room.

“How long have you been awake and watching, newbie?”

You flick open one eye, and he has his arms tucked behind his head as he gazes up to the ceiling. “How’d you know?”

“I felt psychically attacked by you- or should I say ravaged?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Also you snore when you’re sleeping.”

“I do not!”

He smiles at the ceiling. “Yes, you do. You sleep talk too.”

“No! You’re lying.” You swing out an arm, landing a light blow on his chest. He recoils from it with exaggeration and twists himself to face you.

“If it’s any consolation, you only say random things when you’re sleep talking. Like ‘House just like thaaaaa’.” He trails off into a high pitched moan.

You scoff, but bury your flaming face in your hands. You peek out, briefly. “Are you serious?”

He smirks. “Yep. You’re all over me, even in your sleep.” He reaches out a hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand rests on the side of your face, and his thumb smooths over your cheek. “But don’t worry. I’ll only tell Wilson.”

You laugh, but move swiftly and twist yourself to lean on your forearms and knees. House’s eyes flick between the dangling neckline of his shirt that you’re wearing, where your cleavage is showing, and your arse that you stick in the air. 

“You’re not gonna tell Wilson anything.”

“Oh, yeah?” House cocks an eyebrow, flopping onto his back once more. He smirks at you. “What makes you so certain I haven’t already told him everything?”

“Because you were the one who had to stop a blowjob so you wouldn’t be a one pump chump. You can’t act like you didn’t want it just as much as me.”

He tilts his head, and tuts. “Yeah, I can. Last I checked, you were the one screaming- the one who lost the bet.” His smile drips with an overly sweet honey. “You still need to pay up, by the way. I take cash or checks.” 

You sit back and his cool eyes track your movements as you sit on your heels. “I want a rematch.”

“Not a chance. I won, fair and square.”

“You won because you didn’t let me suck you off like I wanted.” You say bluntly. “You won because you were able to hulk out and keep me under you.” 

His eyes darken at your words, but his lips still tilt up. “I’m a cripple and you’re playing the “you overpowered me” card?”

“No, I’m playing the “you had to top otherwise you would have been a goner” card.”

“Still not happening.”

“Double or nothing.” You clench your jaw. “But this time, I’m in control and you can sit there, and look pretty.”

House bats his eyelashes. “You know I’m the best at that. But trust me, you could tie me up and you’d still be the first one begging.”

You smirk, shifting on your knees slightly. “You wanna bet? Yesterday was a fluke on my part- I’ve been cooped up in here for weeks. It was cabin-fever induced touch deprivation.”

He scoffs, sitting up and crossing his arms with a level of self-absorbed-assurance you couldn’t master. But there’s a glint in his eyes. He knows what you’re getting at, but he’s letting himself play right into your hand. 

“Tie me up. You won’t win.” He moves, leaning up to whisper in your ear. 

You laugh, placing your hand on his shoulder and shoving him back against the bedding. “Let me find your belt first and you won’t be so sure.”

You scooch past him and his hand snakes out, pinching your arse as you stand up from the bed. You shoot him a withering look and he just grins. 

When you return, he cocks his head slightly. “I didn’t think you were serious about the belt. Gonna whip me too?”

You give him a pout dripping with fake sympathy. “Only if you beg.”

You scan the bed with a disapproving eye and he tracks your gaze to the solid headboard. “I can’t really tie you to that. So turn around.”

His eyes flick down you. “Just because we’ve committed the most unholy of sins together doesn’t mean you’re my boss now. Don’t go on a power trip.”

“Ohh, you’re so right, House.” His lips tilt up even though it’s obvious you’re mocking him. You lean forward, ghosting your lips against his in a smile. “Now be good for me, please, and turn over.”

You see him swallow, but he laughs you off and gives in, twisting around. You shuffle closer to him on the bed, and move his hands softly behind him. You loop the belt in on itself and place it around his wrists before tightening it. He hisses slightly when the edge digs into his skin, and you press your palm into his shoulder, spinning him back around.

He sits with his back up to the headboard, arms twisted behind himself. House glowers at you from beneath his brow. “I didn’t think you were serious .”

He stretches his legs out in front of him, and you see him already twitching in his boxers. You smirk. “You just don’t want to admit how much you like it.” 

His jaw clenches. 

“But,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “If you don’t want this, at any point, tell me. No hard feelings.” You cross your fingers over your heart in a promise.

“I’ve known since I saw you that it would end with one of us tied up.” He tilts his head, raising his eyebrows up in an obvious fashion. “Next time, it’s your turn.”

Sitting beside his thigh, you pat it with mocking comfort. “Sure thing.”

He scowls at you but it’s quickly replaced by a sharp inhale when your hands reach out, pulling down his boxers. He’s half hard and you spit on your hands the same way you did last time. The action makes him tense. You reach out ghosting wet fingers across him and House hisses beside you. His attention is torn between your hands and your face. Eventually, you feel him decide to glare at you, and you look at him, a sweet saccharine smile in place. 

“You doing alright, House?”

“Not exactly. Feels like you’re trying to tickle my dick.”

You laugh, and the mask of power slips for a moment when you tuck your chin to your chest in a giggle. You look back at him coyly, and his jaw ticks. “‘M sorry. I don’t have to touch you there.”

House opens his mouth to protest when your hand abandons him, but the words are lost when you siddle in close to him and let your fingers dance across his chest. You lean in closer, face next to his and your lips ghost across his cheek. He says nothing, no cocky retorts or snarky remarks to be heard. You kiss his cheek, and trail down to his jaw, your hand making smooth shapes across the plane of his chest, his shoulder, his neck. You tug his shirt up and it stays wrangled up, showing the smattering of hair leading down his lower belly. You plant kiss after kiss on everywhere you can reach, soft and gentle. 

You find a spot on his neck and bite it softly before you continue across the smooth column of his throat, leaving wet kisses and marks wherever you can touch. Your other hand sneaks up behind him, entangling itself in his hair. You scratch against his scalp as you bite down on the junction between his neck and shoulder. He’s breathing heavily above you, and you finally abandon your own resistance, and lean closer, skating your lips across his. He leans into the kiss awkwardly, unable to support himself with his hands tied behind him, but he still pushes forward to you. You push him back, chasing after his lips and deepening the kiss. It’s intoxicating and feverish and your hand reaches down, this time firmly grasping his cock. He’s not half hard anymore, instead pulsing against your palm with heat. He gasps into your mouth and you smile against him.

You pull back, setting yourself beside him again. 

You pump him with your hand firmly, and he groans, hips bucking softly into your hand. You pull back, and he shoots you a confused look. 

You just smirk, staying silent. You pump him again, and pull back once more when he moves. He catches on quickly, hissing. “That is not fair.”

“Says who?” You tilt your head at him. 

“Me.” He scoffs, indignantly. 

“I don’t listen to crazy, tied up men.” You say, pouting sadly.

“Untie me then. I’ll prove I’m not crazy.”

“Nice try, House.”

You pump him again, and like the quick learner he is, he just grits his teeth and stays still. 

“Good job, baby.” You say sweetly, pressing a kiss to his neck. You stroke him again, this time tightening your grip each time you reach his head. You kiss at his neck, pumping him up and down, loosely and then firm in your fist. 

He swears beneath his breath softly. Not admitting defeat, but he’s getting there. 

You spit down onto your palm, swiping your thumb over his head. You pump him again, and again, your other hand reaching down to softly cup and squeeze his balls. 

He rolls his head back, leaning against the headboard with shut eyes. “Fuck, Newbie. The brothel teach you that trick?”

You hand tightens to the point of just-uncomfortable around his cock, and his eyes snap open as he groans. You snicker. 

“I’ve had a lot of free time- you’ve got so many pornos in your apartment.”

His eyes snap to yours, and even though he knows that he doesn’t own one porno that could have taught you any of this, his eyes get glossy with the thought. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You pump him in your hand, faster, quickening the speed. “You’d be gone for so long and I got so bored.”

He can’t even respond to you, and you let out a breathy, just for show, moan, face scrunching as you keep talking in a breathy tone. You pump him, bouncing on your calves slightly with the movement. “Had to fuck myself in your bed while you were gone. Did it when you were in the lounge room, sleeping on the couch.”

He’s enraptured, mouth open slightly and blue eyes pinned to yours as you continue. “Wasn’t enough. Just kept thinking I should go and wake you up and beg you to help me.”

His throat bobs. “You should have.”

You lean closer, running your mouth along his jaw. He just tilts his head back, giving you better access. “I will be.”

You pump him faster, the sound of his cock fucking into your hand obscene and filling the room. 

“Fuck.” He says, voice breathy. “I’m close.”

“Just gotta beg for, House. C’mon, you can use your words.” You mumble against his skin. “I’ll swallow it all.”

Maybe a small part thought that would break his resolve, but he shakes his head and you grin against him.

“No.”

You lean back, smirking at him. “Then you don’t get to cum.”

He glares at you, his nostrils flaring, but he says nothing, fine to be blue balled if it means you don’t win so quickly.

He expects you to stop your movement but you don’t. You keep pumping him, faster, harder, smiling softly at him. 

“W-what are you doing?” He asks, voice shaky, his hips stuttering into your hand- you won’t punish him for that right now. 

“Nothing.” You look at him innocently. “Just don’t cum.”

“Well, sweetheart.” He spits, still managing to sound like he has the power here. “I don’t have the willpower of a buddhist monk, if you keep jerking me off like this I’m going to cum.”

“I know.” You smile sweetly, pumping his cock up and down with your fist. 

He glances to your face, confused at what you’re playing at. He won’t understand until it’s too late, and so his gaze rips back down to where your hand is wrapped around him. 

“I’m-” He stutters. “Fuck, I’m going to-”

He can’t finish his sentence, as you keep jerking him at a brutal pace, his head lolling back. He groans, throbbing in your palm. 

You wretch your hand back at the last second and watch with a grin as his dick falls against his stomach, his cum splattering against his bare stomach. His voice is wrecked as he calls out, swearing. His breath is heavy, shuddering up and down. 

His dick is still hard and red, and his eyes fling open, glaring at you as you smile back at him.

“What the fuck did you just do , Newbie?”

You cross your finger over your heart. “A magician never tells her secrets.”

He opens his mouth to protest or cuss you out, but falls silent when you reach out and wrap your hand around his still hard cock once more. 

“Fuck! Fuck that’s so- fuck.” He groans, shaking his head. He lets out a wrecked sound from the back of his throat as you smear his cock in his own cum, using it to stroke him up and down once more. 

He’s oversensitive, but ruined. You look at him, jutting out your bottom lip. “You alright House? D’you want me to jerk you off again?”

He shakes his head and your movements instantly still, but then he nods. “No, yes. Fuck, that just feels so much more .”

Your hands resume their gentle movement as you grin wickedly. “That’s the point.”

 You pause, moving to nudge his legs apart and you resettle, kneeling between them. He sighs, relieved when your hand falls from his cock, giving him some reprieve. Instead, you spread your own legs, hand tracing down your soft stomach circle at that spot between your legs. You’re so wet, and you use the slick to run messy circles over your clit. You moan, your other hand falling to his non-injured leg for support. Your fingers dig into the skin as the pressure builds up in your core. He says nothing, and your eyes flick up to his, moaning out his name as you start to shudder. When you make yourself unravel in front of him, he doesn't say anything, but his cock bobs, neglected weeping at the head. 

You use your free hand to tug your shirt up, over your head. You spit into your messy palm, and reach up smearing both yourself and him against your breasts. 

“C’mon. Untie me.” 

Your eyes flick up to his, which are glued to your chest. “Beg.”

“No.”

“Then no.”

You shuffle backwards on the bed, and pat the mattress in front of you. “Move it, House.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m a tied up cripple. Did you think that one through?”

You shoot him a look, and he sighs but shuffles closer until he finally lays flat against the mattress, head still propped up by the pile of pillows. You settle between his spread legs, placing a kiss to his thigh. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He scowls. “I got rope burn from my own belt.”

“Aw, you poor thing.” You look up at him, doe-eyed. “I’ll make it better.”

Your hand dips down to the apex of your thighs and once more you smear your slick against your chest. You spit into your hand too, and massage your breasts, squeezing them. 

You lean down, until you’re positioned perfectly over his cock. It bobs at your attention, and you look up, grinning at House. He still scowls at you, but there’s an excited glint in his eyes.

You nudge his cock between your breast, and move yourself, back and forward. You have to find a good rhythm first, but soon you’re guiding your slick breasts up and down his cock. 

“Shit. Fuck, Newbie.” He gasps, and you bat your lashes up at him, quickening your speed. Soft, wet slapping fills the room and you moan quietly.

He groans, cock still overstimulated. You just let drool pool onto your breasts, squeezing them tighter as give him a tit job. 

You hear him shuffle against the sheets and you look up once more, still guiding his cock in and out. 

He looks like he could murder you, but sucks in a sharp breath. “Please, let me cum.”

You tsk. “You call that begging?”

He groans as you keep fucking him, his own weeping pre-cum making it messier. 

“Please, Newbie.” He growls, voice drawing out into a groan. “Please, fuck, make me cum.”

“You lose.” You say softly. 

He nods, desperate, cheeks flushed, stomach tensing. He’s close, wrecked after his ruined orgasm. He needs this. 

You take pity on him, and still your movements. He whips his head up to look at you, aghast, but he curses when you quickly straddle him, nudging his cock closer to your centre, and sink down on him. 

You sigh as he bottoms out, while he groans loudly. He’s big, but with how wet and ready you are, you take him easier this time. He stills nudges up against your cervix, and you feel so full when you sit fully down on him. You don’t have it in you to play him any further, and instead begin bouncing yourself on him. It’s not harsh, but his moans have a desperation in them that coil that feeling in your stomach once more. 

“F-fuck.” He gasps, cursing when you angle him deeper. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Or vicodin.” You say, teasing.

He shakes his head, face scrunched up in pleasure. “You. It’s going to be you.”

“Yeah?” You breathe shakily atop him.

“Yeah.” He moans. “You feel so fucking good. Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me.”

You lean down, pressing your chest to his, kissing his neck softly. “Mmhmm. Just for you, House.”

“Just for me.” He growls, beneath you. At this angle, his cock nudges against that spongey spot inside you. Not having to ask for permission or be the one to beg, you hold that angle, fucking yourself on him, making his cock hit that spot again and again. 

He holds out well, but when you whine against his neck, and your orgasm rolls over you, clenching you against his cock, he lets out a loud groan. He bucks his hips into yours, and you sit back against him as he keeps cumming. He groans, and you feel his cock pulsing in you, throbbing against your walls. 

When he finally stops, he lets out a heavy breath, his chest falling and rising rapidly. 

“Fuck.” He says. 

“Fuck.” You agree, chuckling.

You swing your legs off him, his cum dripping out of you. You don’t care about ruining his sheets, and instead help him sit up, untieing him.

Even with his spend dripping out of you, and your slick smeared against his crotch, when his arms are untied he wraps them around your waist and pulls you closer, drawing you into a deep kiss. 

You smile against him. “Glad you’re not a sore loser.”

“‘M so glad you are.” He teases, lips tugging up.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt: “Match is technically also a Luthor”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Match slants his eyes back to Luthor, who still just looks indulgently amused and does not seem inclined to correct his . . . whatever Lena is. She called him “Father”, but since Luthor’s also referred to himself as both Superboy’s and his father, that isn’t necessarily trustworthy intel. 

Also, if nothing else, Lena clearly doesn’t know his assignment or understand his purpose here any better than he does, so that also implies her to be a poor source of intel. 

“Am I her replacement bodyguard?” he asks Luthor skeptically, because admitting he doesn’t know something is better than making a mistake. 

Probably. 

“Right now, you’re her babysitter,” Luthor replies dryly, then pauses and amends, “Or she’s yours. I’m still unclear on your capacity for long-term independent function, to be honest, and I wouldn’t trust the opinions of the idiots who plagiarized you even if I had bothered to read them. We’ll fit in some independent cognitive tests at some point this week, I suppose.” 

“. . . ‘cognitive’ tests,” Match repeats blankly. “Cognitive” is the last thing the Agenda ever cared about testing him on, because he isn’t supposed to be–he isn’t thinking about anything. Obviously. 

Physical tests would make sense. Combat assessments, physical readings, DNA scans; that kind of thing. 

. . . then again, he supposes Luthor already knows everything that’s in his DNA, doesn’t he. 

Assuming the Agenda “plagiarized” him well enough, anyway. 

“To start, yes,” Luthor says. “For now, if anything goes wrong, the security system will alert me. Don’t let her eat too much sugar. Or eat too much sugar yourself.” 

“. . . I have no idea what ‘too much’ sugar is for either of our metabolisms,” Match says. 

“I’m sure you can google something,” Luthor says, giving him a wry look. 

“I have no idea what that is either,” Match says. He doesn’t like admitting not knowing things, for obvious reasons, but also there is no possible way that Lex Luthor can’t pronounce “googol” correctly, and also he can’t imagine how a googol would even be relevant to whatever the hell Luthor is saying anyway. 

“Hm,” Luthor says, his eyes narrowing slightly. Match does not let his hackles raise. “I should’ve murdered more people in that lab, apparently.” 

“Google Search is a web-based service operated by the American multinational corporation Google LLC as the most popular search engine globally and most-visited website in the world,” Lena informs him promptly, ineffectively pulling at his hands again and using her full weight in a entirely fruitless attempt to get him to move. “It has a share of ninety-two percent of the search engine market and its parent company’s current net worth is valued at 1.97 trillion dollars.” 

. . . that seems like something that should’ve been covered in his uploads, yes, Match thinks, eyeing her warily. Assuming she’s actually correct, anyway, which–again, she’s been a poor source of intel so far. 

. . . is that even normal information for a kindergarten-aged child to have, either way? Especially one who’s not even intelligent enough to realize how futile trying to drag a telekinetic metaweapon twice her size around without any enhancements of her own is? Match has no idea.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

66

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”  

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm. 

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?” 

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.”

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.  

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?” 

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over. 

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now. 

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention. 

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.” 

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”

[apocalypticvalraven]

Delicious in Dungeon in The Kitchen

So... I was struck by the thought that I kinda wish some food nerd would go through the Dungeon Meshi dishes and analyze them and sort of give a "this is the real world thing they're making" run down.

And then I realized I'm a food nerd that can do research.

So.

We're gonna try this out, starting with Volume 1. I don't promise that I know everything about cooking. I don't promise I'll always be able to make the thing I'm looking at (I am broke, and I don't have my own kitchen). But I can at least look at a dish and figure out what they're doing and how to replicate it, at least sorta.

Dungeon Meshi Volume 1-- Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot

The two main components of this dish are the Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom.

Walking Mushroom

Looking at the images in the manga, Walking Mushroom seems to just... be a mushroom that can walk around. There are no organs, the interior seems pretty uniform in substance...

Like, literally, that's exactly what sliced mushrooms look like. Senshi cuts the mushroom into ~4" strips (judging by their size next to the small cabbage-like vegetable, and comparing those plants to his hand in the image of him gathering them. I am assuming dwarf hands are roughly the same size as human hands).

There's a variety of edible mushroom that is probably as close as we're going to get to the size of a Walking Mushroom, growing a cap up to 3' wide, but it seems to only grow in termite mounds in a very specific part of the African continent (please forgive my USAmerican, White education leading me to not being able to identify the specific region), so... if you can get that at all, it's probably crazy expensive (as it should be, unless you're literally getting it from the mounds or local markets yourself). Portobello or similar large culinary mushrooms are probably just fine. The Mushroom Feet are literally just mushrooms, so no worries there.

Huge Scorpion

Ok, so... there is a difference between arachnids and crustaceans. As a start, arachnids have book lungs and crustaceans have gills. Arachnid guts are different from crustacean guts, just because of environment. Hell, crustacean limbs grow differently from arachnid limbs.

That said, everything I see in Dungeon Meshi implies that, from a culinary standpoint, Huge Scorpion is a crustacean-

So, really, it's just a big lobster. Take a lobster, cut off its legs, antennae, and the tail fluke, and you're going to see something that looks pretty similar to the huge scorpion in Dungeon Meshi.

Seaweed

Next is seaweed, which... is just a thing, but also kind of an imprecise term, I think. Basically, "seaweed" just refers to any marine algae that is multicellular and macroscopic (big enough to see). Arctic Moss seems to be a real thing which refers to a couple things- the aquatic moss Calliergon giganteum and the terrestrial lichen in the genus of Cladonia, which includes Reindeer Lichen.

Reindeer lichen is edible, in a number of ways, but it's also not seaweed. So we look at Calliergon giganteum. I cannot get an answer as to whether this particular variety of moss is edible. So... fuck it, say Senshi used Reindeer Lichen, at least we know that's edible.

"Star Jelly" is... I don't know. The main result I find when googling it is that it's the sort of general term for various slimes that show up on lawns and other vegetation, etc. Which means it could be anything from amphibian spawning jelly to who the fuck knows what.

However, one thing it could be is a cyanobacteria known as Fat Choy, a commonly used "vegetable" in Chinese Cuisine:

Looks like jelly? Yep. Looks weird enough that you might imagine it comes from a star? Yep. Edible? Yes!

(I mean, maybe don't eat a ton of it, or get it from irreputable sources. At least some Fat Choy contains a toxic amino acid which may or may not have negative health effects, but I'm not a doctor, so all I'm saying is "be aware of this." It's an expensive delicacy, which means that it is a particularly lucrative target for counterfeiters, and China does not have strong, or strongly enforced, food safety laws).

The Hard Stuff

So that leaves "Invertatoes" and "Dried Slime."

Neither of which seem to have a good direct analogue to the real world. Well... sorta.

Invertatoes seems to refer to the plants. The name calls to mind potatoes, and potatoes do indeed grow in the ground and are starchy. It's probably fair to just use any kind of starchy tuber as the "invertatoes." Maybe cassava, since those are large enough that it's at least somewhat believable that "Fantasy Land Cassava" could look like that (although that doesn't fit the "these are normal plants that grow upside down" unless we're being really generous).

The problem is that it's sort of implied that the cabbage-like vegetable seen in the hot pot comes from the same plant, and everything from a potato plant other than the potato itself is toxic. They also don't look like that.

I literally don't know what those cabbage/lettuce-like leafy vegetables are. They're not seaweed, because the two varieties called out definitely don't look like that. They're not, so far as I can tell, the greens of any kind of starchy tuber--

EXCEPT.

So, I was taking one last look at tubers to see if I could find something that seemed to match, and I think Invertatoes could be likened to something similar to chicory. Particularly endives. I never knew endives were related to chicory (ie, "that thing that I'm aware is popular as a coffee substitute in the South, but I don't have much desire to try it, and I wonder if it even has caffeine..."), but, apparently, yeah. Endives are a member of the chicory genus.

So, yeah, lets say that Invertatoes are a sort of fantasy plant similar to the various members of the chicory genus. The trunk can be replicated with chicory root, and the leaves with endives.

That leaves Dried Slime. Dried Slime makes up the noodles in the hot pot, which implies that the noodles are gelatinous, and probably low in gluten. Senshi's explanation of the slime makes me want to think of it as a macro-unicellular lifeform, but... I'm not sure that's accurate.

While it's definitely not an accurate way to describe a jellyfish, I could definitely see a non-biologist describing jellyfish in a way similar to the way Senshi describes the slime. I could also see some fantasy terrestrial jellyfish thing hunting in a similar manner to the slime. Moreover, there are edible varieties of jellyfish, and they're processed in a manner very similar to what Senshi describes for processing slimes. And one way of preparing edible jellyfish is to thinly slice it into noodles.

Hot Pots

I... think this is using a very specifically Japanese sense of "hot pot" (which makes sense), because in Japan, hot pot can refer to a dish called nabemono, while in general, hot pot refers to a particular kind of dining in China where you get a pot full of boiling stock/broth and a bunch of raw ingredients, and you put the stuff you want into the broth at the table. Nabemono is more of "put a bunch of stuff in a pot, and cook it. Serve it boiling." Which is to say, it's soup.

Senshi puts the scorpion meat and mushroom into a pot on its own, and lets it start boiling-

Then, while it's boiling, he goes and finds other ingredients, coming back with the invertatoes and the slime. The two are prepared simply-

Seasoning isn't included in the ingredients, but I can understand this as a choice for presentation. We do see Senshi add something to the broth after tasting it, and I think it's fair to assume it's one of soy sauce, mirin, fish sauce, or similar. I think it's actually really interesting that we see Senshi add seasoning, but we're not told what it is-

Because... that's cooking. You can follow a recipe, but ultimately, you need to taste your cooking and make your own decisions. Senshi lets the soup cook, tastes the broth, decides it needs something, and gives it a bit of time to let the flavors meld before serving it up.

Dungeon Meshi Lobster and Mushroom Hot Pot

So, we're looking at something like this for the "Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot"--

Lobster- ~5 lbs or more (a 1 lb lobster yields about 4 oz of actual meat, which is a single serving), cut into large slices

Portobello- 2 mushrooms large diced, 2 left whole with the caps scored

Reindeer Lichen and Fat Choy- to taste

Chicory Roots- ~1 cup, diced

Endive greens- ~2 cups

Jellyfish, thin sliced- as much as you like

Add lobster and mushrooms to water, and allow to boil. While it comes to a boil, prepare the other ingredients, then add to the water. Let the soup come to a full boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes to an hour (can simmer longer, but this will affect the texture of the ingredients. Longer simmering will result in more melding of flavors, but also degraded solid parts).

Taste the broth. It will likely need salt and acid, which could come in a variety of forms, such as kosher salt and lemon juice, soy sauce and mirin/rice vinegar, oyster/fish sauce, or something else. Go with your gut and your taste buds..

[saskiahaggens]

Can you write something about Jimmy x Reader? 👉🏼👈🏼

Of course I can, but I have to tell you that I dislike it… I'll most likely edit it later.

Most of you have probably noticed that I haven't uploaded anything in a long time. So, as a quick update, I by now am legally allowed to drive and I started my last year of school. I'm not sure how much I can upload, because our school year is quite short, but I will do my best to respond to all of the requests as soon as possible. Please accept my apologies for the long speech. I love you all for the appreciation. I wish you luck for school an work.

I Survived 50 Hours In America

Masterlist

Pairing: Jimmy x fem!Reader

Warnings: none I guess

Word count: 1586

You weren't thrilled when Jimmy suggested going to Antarctica. It was frosty, very bright owing to the sun, and you wouldn't have a decent bed to sleep in. Obviously, you had to fly there, which you were not delighted about. But Jimmy asked you to come along, and who were you to refuse?

"You okay?" Chandler asked above the rumblings of the plain.

"Could be better. We should've brought hot chocolate."

After you mentioned that, Chandler pulled a sorrowful expression. You should have thought about it sooner.

Jimmy was on the other side of the plain, working with the others to prepare some great scenes for the video. You weren't assisting since you had your head buried under your jacket, so you couldn't look outside. Normally, you weren't terrified of heights, except when you sat in a plain that didn't appear or seem safe. They wanted to you wait on the plain after Jimmy left so you could get an amazing shot of you and the rest of the group approaching him.

It seemed simple until the guy in front of you stumbled. You weren't able to react quickly enough and fell face first as you stumbled over his foot.

"Gosh, Y/n." Chandler laughed when you landed in front of his feet.

While everyone else was laughing, he was kind enough to pull you up.

"Well, it's safe to say that the snow tastes nothing like vanilla ice cream."

"Is this something people believe?" Jimmy questioned as he tried to remove some snow off of you.

Chris shrugged, "I've never heard of anything like this."

"Whatever. You thought the moon was made of cheese until we were around thirteen," you rolled your eyes, while the others chuckled.

"As amusing as it is, guys." We should get started. Unless you want to be stuck in a blizzard," Jimmy reminded us, and we all groaned.

"I can't wait to freeze to death.", Chandler smiled.

Jimmy gave the pilot a wink and he took off. We started walking shortly after that. Everyone was hauling their sleighs behind them. George happened to be right next to you, chatting about who knows what. The blizzard made him incomprehensible. You attempted to explain it to him, but he didn't understand you either, so you just let him go on. When you arrived at the location for the camp, everyone began to set up their tents.

Some of you almost immediately realized that it was nearly impossible for them to set up a tent in this wind, so some of you began to build a wall to protect the camp from the wind. While it made things a little easier for you, George, Jimmy, and Karl kept assembling the tents.

Regardless of who went where, all of you instantly huddled in them when the blizzard intensified to wait it out, when you were finally done.

Finally, save from the cold wind and the snow flakes which felt like little needles picking your skin, you could take of your googles.

"This was disgusting," you said, referring to your soaked jacket and pants.

"Hopefully this will be over soon. It's rather crowded in here. Get your feet out of my face, Chris." Tareq muttered.

You hadn't realized how close you were to Jimmy, who was also in this tent. Blood shot to your cheeks, but you could at least blame it on the cold.

The tent's walls suddenly began to collapse and landed on you immediately. The air was filled with cursing and the never-ending shifting of the tent's fabric.

You attempted to pull the fabric aside so you would be able to see someone, but it was like trying to get to the short end of a blanked at night, since the wind pushed the fabric back in your face every few seconds. You began to panic, concerned about how hard it was being pressed in your face from time to time.

"Y/n? "Are you okay?"

You spotted Jimmy when the crimson fabric lifted off your head. He must have noticed your fear since he moved closer to you to raise the piece of fabric higher.

"Yeah. This was terrifying. Like a crimson avalanche."

"You told me about your Claustrophobia once. Sorry to bring you into this."

"Don't worry. I-"

"Y/n is scared by Santa Claus?"

"Chris really? They had a moment."

"What are you even talking about, Tareq?", you asked.

"Oh come on. Everybody knows you two are in love."

"Tareq really? Stop it."

"No way, Chris. This frustrates me. It's so clear, I mean. Jimmy spent hours last week reassembling some Oreo's for you since you had a horrible day and he knows you like the with stuff."

"Any friend would have done something like this." Jimmy denied.

"Okay, and how about yesterday? Y/n-"

"Okay! Tareq we get it.",you interfered.

"No, I'd like to know what happened yesterday. It had to be a very significant event for Tareq to snap. This didn't seem possible to me."

"Chris, I swear to god.", you threatened.

You were frightened since Jimmy wasn't speaking, but you were saved by the others just as you were going to glance at him.

"Is everything all right in there?" Karl asked as the entire tent rose up, revealing a beaming Chris, a still unhappy Tareq, and Karl who peered inside.

You grabbed your googles and exited the tent, unable to bear the humiliating experience. Karl worriedly yelled after you, but you quickly made your way around the wall and came to a halt after about three minutes. Maybe you should just go back home and swim. You'd definitely die within the first two or three hours, but this would be truly amazing right now.

You watched the guys from the distance, rebuild the tent, raise the wall, and put the sleighs' belongings in the tents, when Jimmy started walking in your direction.

You were out and about to just walk away further, but you would have to talk to him. For the sake of the others, otherwise this trip would be really difficult for everyone, and you have at least a little privacy right now.

Jimmy sat down next to you and said, "We need to talk."

"I know."

You then remained silent. How can you even begin such a discussion? Just tell him the truth? No, this isn't one of those stereotypical romance novels where one character rants about their feelings only to be interrupted by the other's kiss. This is the real deal.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way.", Jimmy mumbled finally interrupting the silence.

"I somehow knew. Or at least I wished it was."

"So Tareq was right? You like me too?"

"How could I not."

Shortly the silence took over again, but now you were sure, if you won't finally speak up, you could end up ruining more than a potential relationship. "I've liked you for years, but even after finally admitting it to you and myself, I still don't feel relived."

"Probably because how it happened. Tareq deeply apologized . You should speak with him later. It will lift your mood."

"I still can't believe he snapped."

"I'm with you. I had no idea his voice could get this loud."

You laughed, and then there it was. The long-awaited sense of relief.

"Thank you."

Jimmy stared at you, perplexed, but you simply rested your head on his shoulder.

"For being here, for making me laugh or have I ever thanked you for giving me this job?"

"Like, a thousand times." He burst out laughing. "Hey, would you tell me what happened yesterday?"

"Promise you won't find it weird."

"I promise."

"I picked up Tareq. Well, when he got into my car, I had forgotten to change the playlist, and he found my worst secret."

"You love One Direction?"

"That's not what this is about... I think. Well, I have a playlist full of songs you might like or told me about."

"Okay. I don't see a problem."

"I labeled it 'Jimmy <3'"

"To be honest I think's cute. You need to show me when we get back." he laughed.

A bit embarrassed you took a hand full of snow and pushed at in his face.

"Oh, you will regret this."

He tossed some snow in your face and pushed you over. Naturally, you started defending yourself, but after a few minutes of rolling around in the snow, you gave up.

"All right, you've won. Please stop. I have so much snow in my jacked that I'm afraid I'll get frost bite."

Jimmy stopped, looking down at you, before he suddenly leaned down on his forearms, coming closer to your face.

"Oh yeah? Well there is nothing like giving up where I'm from."

You moved in close to kiss him, taking advantage of his proximity. Jimmy kissed you back, and you swapped places without his noticing. Using this new position, you threw some snow in his face and rushed back to your tent, shivering but glad that you finally got to kiss Jimmy, and by looking over your shoulder and seeing him still laying there, you knew this wasn't the last kiss you'd have.

[jtargaryen18]

One Night With You ~ Pt 3

One Night With You ~ A Halloween Tale in 3 Parts

Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2

Words: 5.8k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader

Warnings: A little language, references to the sound of people having sex, masturbation.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and any original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content in the third act. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I don’t consent to having my work reposted or translated.

Summary: For @iheartsebstan who was my very first follower here on Tumblr and one I adore. 💕 It’s all about a chance encounter and how it can make everything in your life so much better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 31st: Halloween

The trick-or-treat in your apartment building started at 7 PM. You had no idea just how many kids were in the apartment building because you usually went out with Denny or your coworkers. It was 8 and the event ran until 9. You’d gone through more than half of your candy. And you remembered joking with Bucky that he had enough candy to spare if you ran out.

The problem was, Bucky wasn’t home.

Would he be home? Was he out saving someone as a member of the Avengers?

Was he avoiding you?

You didn’t know who your neighbor was when you agreed to have dinner with him. This morning it was the first thought that popped into your head. With Denny snoring next to you, you were Googling James Buchanan Barnes.

Sure, everyone knew the story of Captain America and his best friend who’d been taken by Hydra and made into an assassin. You hadn't thought it was all that interesting in school. You remembered reading that Sergeant Barnes had been rehabilitated and was free from the dark mind control he’d been a victim of for long decades. That was good news. But, like Captain America, he was over a hundred years old. The man had to have some massive PTSD from what he’d been through.

How to reconcile that story with the man who lived next door? Bucky had seemed a little intimidating at first. Now that you were getting to know him better, he didn't feel like a threat at all.

Still, it explained why someone who looked like him wasn’t out in clubs, meeting people. It might have had a lot to do with the simplicity of your evening with him. Helping him make pasta and cook dinner. A nice conversation over a meal and for once, a man seemed truly interested in who you were, not what you had to offer.

Then Denny texted and he might just have ruined everything. It gave you something to think about last night. By the time Denny was trying to sneak out super early in the morning -- like he did most of the time -- you confronted him. He broke the agreement of your "non-relationship." You'd agreed there would be no displays of jealousy or possessiveness. You broke it off.

You hadn’t confirmed to Bucky that you had a boyfriend because Denny wasn’t that. But the minute he thought someone like Bucky was interested in you, he flew to your door to end what had been a wonderful evening. You didn't regret your decision there.

Bucky must think you’re either jerking him around or you were just straight-up crazy. Either way, that opportunity was probably gone.

“Wow,” Bucky’s voice rose above the din of all the kids' voices. He rounded the corner and his blue-eyed gaze locked with yours. He smiled and it just about stopped your heart. “There’s a lot of kids.”

You laughed. “That’s what I thought too. I’m glad you’re back, I’m almost out of candy.”

“Hang on,” he said, working through the crowd to get to his door and let himself in. In a flash, he was in his doorway like you were, holding a huge basket of candy. Walking over to you, he dumped some of it into the plastic pumpkin you were using. The faint notes of sandalwood and amber reached you.

Because being a super-hot reformed assassin isn’t enough. He had to smell good too.

Going back to his door, there were now two of you, it was a little less crazy on your end of the hall when another flock of them came around the corner. But when nine o’clock rolled around, you breathed a sigh of relief. You’d been dangerously close to running out of candy again.

“How bad was it before I got here?” Bucky asked.

“About as crazy as it was after you got here.”

The two of you laughed.

“At least it's Friday,” you offered. “I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

Bucky nodded. “Same. Hopefully.”

When he was about to turn to go back into his apartment, you asked, “You want to have a drink, watch a Halloween movie or something? With me?”

You sounded a lot less confident than you thought you would.

He stopped, looking surprised. Then that smile… “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Yeah?” you asked. Maybe you still had a shot.

Bucky started to follow you, then remembered he was holding a mostly empty basket of candy, and his apartment door was wide open. He set the basket just inside the door before locking it and coming with you.

Nerves almost got the better of you. Now knowing who he was? It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. You didn’t feel like he posed any threat to you, but you did hope you could talk to him like a normal fucking date instead of a fan girl. He must have so many of those.

Closing the door behind the two of you, you headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got bourbon and scotch, and I think I have some vodka here somewhere.”

“Vodka is fine,” Bucky said, taking a seat on your couch. “If you have it.”

That was easy enough. You made a vodka and tonic for each of you. Carrying them back to the living room, you joined him on the couch.

“I’m not going to get you into any trouble, am I?” Taking a drink, he kept his gaze on the glass in his hand. “Or have I already?”

“No, you didn’t have anything to do with it.” Well, yes you did. “Denny and I got into a fight this morning when he left, and it got a little loud. I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything, but I left at 5.”

“Good,” you told him. You took a couple of drinks, wanting the temporary courage the alcohol might offer you. “You didn’t miss anything really.”

“Was everything alright?” he asked, the sincerity in his expression made your heart skip a beat. “Did you get everything settled?”

You drained your short glass on that note. Bucky watched you but didn’t say anything.

“Everything is settled,” you admitted. “I ended things with him.”

Did you imagine those smoky blue eyes lit up? “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

You shook your head. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

Bucky placed his glass on your coffee table, scrubbing a hand through those gorgeous locks of hair.

“Last night, you asked me if I was happy,” you admitted. “I thought I was for a while. We were friends with benefits, you know? Denny had just gotten out of a bad relationship when I met him. We were friends, then we started hooking up. He didn’t want a committed relationship because of all the awful things that happened to him in his last one.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Bucky said quietly. “That wasn’t you.”

He was right. And you knew that. 

“What did you get?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I wasn’t…” Sitting here and admitting this to Bucky, it hit you how ridiculous it all was. Your heart sank to think of how sad it was going to sound. But there was something in his gentle expression. A lack of judgment… “I wasn’t alone anymore. A couple of times a week I had someone to watch a movie with or have dinner with, you know?”

He nodded, his sensual lips pressing into a line.

But he did know. Flashes of what you’d read about him on Google flashed in your mind. He knew about being alone. He’d been held captive for decades. Who knew what the monsters of Hydra had done to him? Put him through? And what, you expected him to feel sorry for you?

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you about… “

Easing back on your couch, Bucky’s expression was kind.

“You can complain to me if you want to,” he said.

“I mean, with everything you’ve experienced,” you said carefully. “I must sound pretty pathetic.”

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”

“I didn’t,” you told him. “Denny told me. The reason he texted me and showed up here last night all upset was because a friend of his saw me walking with you.”

“He was afraid for you?” You didn't like the worry that started seeping into his expression.

“No, he was jealous I guess,” you said.

Bucky huffed at that. “Jealous of me?”

You nodded. “He was. I guess he was afraid I was trading up.”

“I wouldn’t consider me trading up.”

You would.

“He can’t make pasta,” you finally said, hoping to lighten up the mood.

That made him smile. And he was so gorgeous when he smiled… But there were shadows behind his eyes. Shadows of doubt or fear? You couldn’t tell. You just knew you wanted to take them away.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Really, none of it was your fault… And yet, it was. You showed me more genuine attention in one meeting than Denny did in our entire non-relationship – and that was before you made me dinner. I had a really nice time, Bucky. And I guess it got me thinking that… I want a relationship like that. Someone who is talking to me and listening instead of talking at me.”

“You deserve to have someone treat you right, doll,” Bucky said.

Doll, huh? You liked it.

“So, you’re an Avenger,” you finally said, now that things were out in the open.

Bucky shrugged. “Not really. It’s an opportunity.”

You didn’t understand. “An opportunity?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, for me to go out and try to wipe out some of the red in my ledger. So to speak."

The poor man. "That red didn't belong in your ledger, Bucky. The things they made you do? Those weren't your decisions. Right?"

“No,” Bucky told you. “They weren't. But I still did those things. So many terrible things. I remember all of it, in painful detail. Those memories will never go away.”

You processed that for a moment. They had him for so many years. You were sitting next to a man who was over a hundred years old, most of that time he spent as an assassin for one of the worst criminal syndicates the world had ever seen. You could almost see the guilt weighing him down. 

“Do they, the Avengers, still consider you a threat?” you asked.

“Before they cleaned my head out, I was a threat,” he explained. The pain etched in his expression had your heart squeezing. What the poor man must have been through. And it wasn't his fault.

“I’m just surprised,” you admitted. “I feel perfectly safe here with you.”

The pain eased out of his expression at that, replaced by surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him.

“That’s good,” he whispered. “I never want you to feel afraid of me.”

You believed him.

“So you wanted to watch a movie?” he asked.

That he wanted to direct the conversation away from himself, you got that. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. And you did invite him over for a movie. Snatching up your remote, you went to your collection of movies for streaming. You loved horror movies and you’d bought several over the last couple of years.

“See anything you want to watch?” you asked him. But when you looked at him, you caught him staring at you.

And you were fine with that.

His gaze shifted to your flat screen. “How about… what’s The Conjuring?” he asked.

Perfect. Ghosts. Possession. Hopefully nothing there that would bring back any bad memories for him.

“The Conjuring it is,” you told him, selecting it. You sat back on the couch, moving closer to the center. To Bucky.

The movie began, opening with Ed and Lorraine Warren giving a lecture back in the 70s. You could quote most of the movie, but Bucky hadn’t seen it yet, so you didn’t want to ruin the movie for him by talking. 

Halfway through the movie, Bucky moved a little closer, resting his left arm, the prosthetic arm, along the back of the couch behind you. It was a chilly October night and the warmth of him was tempting.

Yeah, everything about the man is a fucking temptation.

You leaned a little closer. Then he shifted closer to you. You went to put your head on his shoulder, but he stopped you.

“Sorry, that’s not going to be very comfortable,” he sounded apologetic.

Sitting up, you met his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t want him to feel bad about his arm. You scrambled for a solution, and it came to you pretty quickly. Rising from the couch, you moved to sit next to him on the other side. Flitting around nervously as you were, you tripped and fell on the man.

Bucky caught you, face to face with him, your arms braced on the back of the couch on either side of his head. You weren’t rightly sure who moved first. All you knew was that your lips met his. The kiss was explosive, with him pulling you in to straddle his lap and your hands clutched in his hair as his kiss set you ablaze. The moan he pulled from you was a deep, raw sound. Bucky just felt so good beneath you, the soft locks of his hair in your hands, the taste of him filling your senses.

Long heated minutes ticked by as the two of you kissed, moving together. His lips were a tender tease, dancing against your own as if he couldn’t resist. His hands skimmed over your back and hips as you ground down on him, hard and heated beneath you.

Bucky was the one to break the kiss, panting against your lips while his hands held you in place. “Doll, stop,” he said. “I’m sorry. Jesus.”

Your breath came as fast as his. “Why are you sorry? Why—”

Bucky’s flesh hand cupped your face as he gazed into your eyes. “I want this… I think you get that. But this isn’t the only thing I want with you… I'm not Denny. And I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t.” You were panting. “You can’t… “ Your body ached, literally, and all he’d really done so far was make out with you.

You started kissing him again and he didn’t fight you, he was clinging to you. Now his arms around you tightened. He rolled his hips beneath you, nudging into the ache where you needed him most.

He chained hot kisses across your jawline to your ear. His tongue teased the sensitive shell of it, his breath hot as he whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” you begged him.

The deep moan that pulled from him pushed your arousal even higher. In a hurry, you pulled the heavy sweater you wore over your head and flung it away. Your fingers moved to undo the buttons of the blouse you wore beneath it.

The heated velvet of his lips burned a path from your ear down your neck. His mouth claimed each patch of skin you revealed in opening the blouse. Bucky didn’t wait until you were finished to slide his good hand up under your bra, kneading the flesh that filled it. While you hurried to shed the blouse, he reached behind you to undo the clasp of the little black bra you wore, roughly pulling it off you. With your breasts on display for him, the heated look in those stormy blue eyes had desire burning you from the inside out.

When his flesh hand returned to your breast, you gasped at the gentle touch. You were used to sharp squeezes for someone else’s gratification. Bucky’s warm hand skimmed over your flesh like it was an honor to do so. The metal of his other arm warmed against the skin of your back while his head dipped, his lips wrapping around your nipple. His mouth was tender, careful. He didn’t bite you. His tongue played with the tight peak in a way that had you squirming on his lap, eager for more of his gentle touch.

You couldn't remember the last time a man was so careful with you.

When his lips blazed a trail to your other breast, you twisted to give him better access, to give him everything. If you hadn’t been so turned on, you would have been embarrassed at your own desperation. Still, he took his time, handling you with delicacy.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, and he rose from your couch with you with no visible effort at all. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you held on. You were about to tell him where your bedroom was but then you realized, he knew the way. He’d never been in your apartment before. How did he know that?

Your bedroom was cool and dark. He was careful when he lowered you to your bed, reaching around you to turn on the lamp on your bedside table. You knew you were staring at him. With just a knee on the edge of your bed, and the man had beautiful thighs, Bucky stopped and looked at you in question.

“How did…” How did you ask without making him feel like he was doing something wrong? “How did you know where my bedroom was?”

Automatically his hands came up to scrub through his hair and you were cursing yourself. What the fuck were you thinking asking that? You were right there – in your bedroom where you wanted to be – with your super-hot, superhero neighbor.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

When his troubled gaze moved to the door, you moved closer to him, placing a hand on the heavily muscled thigh before you.

“Please, don’t go,” you whispered.

Blowing out an exhale, Bucky slowly turned and sat on the edge of your bed. His back was to you, but his attention was very much on you. You could feel it.

“When they took me," he said slowly, "They gave me the serum that gave me all these abilities I never had naturally. Everything was enhanced. I was so much stronger than before and faster. All of my senses were enhanced. I can see things from a distance in great detail. I can pick up scents. My hearing..."

His hearing? Feeling a little awkward now, you crossed your arms over your bare chest. Bucky pulled off the black boots he wore.

Turning his head, he watched you from the corner of his eye. "The abilities they gave me, made me the ultimate predator. There was no one I couldn't find anywhere in the world."

Shivering on your own bed, you just listened. Your mind was scrambling as empathy battled with fear. Bucky was a good man, wasn't he? Because it occurred to you that if you were wrong about him or things went badly, you couldn't hide from him. You couldn't run from him.

While your mind was throwing up red flags in the background, the need that coursed through your body intensified. You wanted him in the worst possible way.

"Back in the real world, my abilities aren't necessarily a good thing, doll," he said as he turned to face you on the bed. His fingers started undoing the buttons on his flannel shirt and you couldn't pull your gaze away from those quick movements. "I've been your neighbor for many weeks now. I've seen you so many times in passing, always in a hurry to be somewhere."

Bucky wasn't wrong. You weren't the most punctual person. Self-sabotage and procrastination often made you late, always had you scrambling to get where you needed to go.

A chill of anticipation ran up your spine when he pulled that dark blue flannel shirt free of his jeans and peeled it off. Your gaze was immediately drawn to all those muscles, the elegant black metal arm with threads of gold adorning it. There was scarring at the skin around that arm but it wasn't as bad as you'd expected.

"You've got this style about you," Bucky said. "I would think someone who wears so much black was either in mourning or trying to hide themselves, to blend into the background. But you're not hiding. You drive me crazy, every time I see you. I love those little skirts you wear, those stockings and combat boots. I love the blood red lipstick you wear, the little silver earrings..."

You had no idea he'd noticed you at all. As it was, at this moment, you were only wearing jeans. You edged back towards the center of your bed. Almost as if it were a predator's response, Bucky followed you. The ache between your legs only grew, had you trembling under that heated gaze.

"I wasn't trying to listen to you in your apartment, doll," he went on. "I really wasn't. I can't really help what I hear."

Hear? Your gaze moved from studying that arm, cutting off thoughts you shouldn't be having about that arm, to meet his. Your mind struggled to push thoughts through your aroused state, to think about what he just said. What did he not mean to hear in your apartment?

How were you supposed to be able to hold a thought with him on your bed with you? All those muscles and warm flesh. How would he feel in your arms? On top of you? Inside you? 

Bucky whispered your name softly. "Did you hear me?"

You nodded, at least you thought you did in your lusty haze. 

"What did you hear?" you asked. "In my apartment."

"Most nights, I just heard you moving around in your apartment." Bucky's intense gaze held yours. "You watching TV or making yourself dinner. A couple of nights a week, he came over. And then I got to listen to you make dinner, listen to him talk about himself, his day. It pissed me off so much that he never asked how your day was, never brought you flowers or cooked for you. He didn't treat you right, doll."

Bucky had heard a lot. But if he'd heard all that...

"Then..."

"Then?" you prompted him. "You listened to us..."

Bucky paused, and a hint of chagrin bled into his expression. One hand slid over your right ankle and with care, he pulled off that shoe.

"I wasn't trying to," Bucky explained, removing your other shoe before leaning over to place both on the floor by your bed. "It wasn't a lot different from listening to the two of you have dinner... It was all about him." 

You were somewhere between humiliation and shame. The look in those smoky blue eyes, the care you read there, lessened the sting.

"I'm not saying you did anything wrong or that anything is wrong with you," Bucky moved closer, crowding you into your pillows. "Every time he was in your bed, it was all about him. He got off. You didn't. Not one time." When you dropped your gaze, careful warm fingers under your chin put it back on him. "He never even noticed."

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. Every word he spoke was the truth. This time when Bucky moved closer, pressing you onto your back beneath him, you didn't inch away. Tears slid from the corners of your eyes as he hovered over you. Propping himself on his metal arm, his natural hand smoothed over the side of your face, brushing your tears away.

His heated gaze locked with yours as he settled next to you, one heavy thigh draped across yours. His hand slid down to cover your right hand, his fingers lacing with yours. With care, he leaned over and began kissing you. The hand he captured, he moved to his head and you were fine with that, sliding your fingers through the satiny locks of dark hair. His shift in position had his thigh between yours now and you weren't going to lie, the way he nudged it up into your melting center made the ache worse. So good...

Bucky's kisses went to your head like good whiskey, sending ripples of heat and euphoria racing through your bloodstream. Your thighs clamped around that muscled thigh as his lips danced with yours, gently but demanding all the same. When he dropped some of his weight on you, you fought to breathe, vining around him to get more. Now both your hands were sliding through his hair as his lips blazed a trail across to your jaw then seeking out all the places that made you weak just under your ear. 

You'd pretty much disappeared beneath him, and you were loving it. He pulled a chorus of sounds from you as his mouth trailed down your neck, down to your chest. He chuckled at the way you whined when he moved off you.

"Shhh," he soothed. "I've got you."

When his lips surrounded one nipple, your hands clutched in his hair. You didn't have the time or wherewithal to consider how careful he was being or to remember how Denny more or less treated your breasts like stress balls. You were gasping as his lips and tongue teased the aching peak over and over. The desire he was stoking in you was unfamiliar, even in your private moments which was usually the only time you could find release. 

Your body had a mind of its own. Your back arched, a wanton plea for more, more... It gave him easier access and he took it. Your thighs clutched his in desperation because you needed relief from the fire he was building in your body. The intensity of that delicate ache was climbing. His hot mouth moved to your other breast as both his hands, warm and warming metal, began roaming over your body like fever chills.

Bucky loved it when you pulled his hair. He groaned when you started pumping your hips rhythmically, begging him without words for more. You felt that raw sound all through your body, gasping as he moved further down. He was rough when he plucked open your jeans, yanking them down with your panties to reveal all of you to him. His gaze roamed over all your newly revealed curves, making you shiver as anticipation threatened to get the best of you.

Without a thought, you slid a hand down to your own swollen, soaked flesh. Watching him licking his lips as you showed him how you worked your clit had you on the edge of the cliff...

"No, you don't." Bucky's voice was low and rough. 

Batting your hands away, he dove for you with his mouth. His lips and tongue in that tender flesh had you climaxing in seconds, wailing into the quiet of your bedroom. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them open as he really went to work, teasing you through the orgasm in a way that kept you flying, kept you riding that wave the way you rode his tongue. You couldn't move your lower body, couldn't get away from the onslaught of pleasure he was subjecting you to. 

You writhed wildly on the bed in his clutches. The sight of his dark hair, the locks dancing around your thighs as his mouth took you apart would be forever seared into your memory. The way he teased you relentlessly until you came a second time on the tip of his tongue had the world spinning around you. Your nipples were hard, aching peaks in your hands, your back arching wildly as he worked you through it.

Jesus. Would you survive this?

When all sensation stopped, you lay trembling on your bed like you'd been hit by lightning. Bucky scrambled to undo his jeans, shoving them down his body with haste as you watched him with hungry eyes. As soon as his cock was freed, you were staring, marveling at its size. Your hand slid around that heated stalk of flesh, warm velvet in your grasp. He was bigger than Denny or anyone else you'd been with. You were excited and nervous all at once. How was that going to feel?

As if he could read your mind, Bucky came back up to you. His shadow swallowed you again as he kissed your lips and gave you a taste of your own lust from his shiny lips. It only pushed your desire higher, had you winding yourself around him eager for more. When you reached between your bodies for him again, Bucky captured your hand and thwarted your efforts.

"Doll," he whispered against your lips. "I want you so much... But I need to slow down a little here. Okay? It's everything I can do not to come right now. And you're so small..."

"Please," was the only word you could get out.

"M'gonna take care of you," he whispered. "I promise... I'm treating you right."

You couldn't conjure an ounce of humiliation now. You did need more of him. You wanted all of him.

Taking himself in hand, he slid the swollen head of himself through your slippery folds back and forth. Each pass was a soft brush against your clit, a shot of pleasure to take your breath away. You held onto him as he slowly pushed into you, his breath a heated rush just like yours. 

And he was huge. You sucked in a breath as he kept pushing into you. It helped that he had you soaking wet, but feeling your pussy walls stretch around him was intense. The slightest pain blended with a sensation of fullness that had your thighs quivering around his. His blue-eyed gaze stayed on you as he kept going, watching you for any signs of distress. 

By the time he reached the end of you, you were on that ledge again. The only thing that kept you from sailing off that cliff now was the fact that he'd stopped moving. Bucky's body was still inside you as your body stretched around him.

Bucky's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth slack above you.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Aside from feeling almost split in two in the best way possible, you were pretty fucking far from okay. You were squirming beneath him, hands clutching at his hair, at the damp muscles of his back. When you slid your hands down to the firmness of his ass, you squeezed. You needed him to move. You needed him to ride you like you were going somewhere.

"Don't...stop," you managed, fighting for air. "Please."

"Look at me," he whispered.

And you did, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.

"Does anything hurt?" Bucky asked, sounding as wrecked as you felt.

You shook your head frantically. "Please."

Because you weren't sure you were going to survive if he didn't start moving soon. You were burning from the inside, your lower body stretched around his cock, quivering in need sharper than anything you'd experienced so far. When you raked your nails up his back, you hoped he'd take the hint and take you. Destroy you. 

Slowly, he started moving and it was everything you craved. Bucky's cock was hitting places inside you that left you breathless. His body was heavily muscled, pressing yours into the mattress. All you could do was hang on as his thrusts sped up. Bucky wasn't fucking you. He was claiming you. It was in the tender possession of his hands that skimmed over your body. The sweet caress of his lips over your face and shoulders, dropping on your skin like warm summer rain.

And all the while, he made you take his cock, filling you again and again with thrusts that were driving you insane. When your inner walls began to quiver around him, you braced yourself for a release that was approaching so fast. Your heart hammering against his, Bucky sped up.

"Let go for me," he purred in your ear. 

You didn't have a choice. This time, you buried your face in his chest to muffle the scream. And Bucky kept going as you rode that wave, pleasure pulsing through your body as he began chasing his own end. Your name was a prayer on his lips as his movements quickened, desperate now instead of careful. At the last second, Bucky pulled himself free of you, his come spurting over your tummy, your thighs. There was a lot of it, hot and thick drizzled over your skin. Bucky looked so beautiful above you, lost to the same pleasure he'd just drowned you in as he worked himself with his hand.

Your eyes slid closed, you struggled to breathe. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so sated after sex, so fulfilled. 

"I hope that smile is for me," Bucky said softly, using his flannel to clean his spend from your skin. 

You were smiling. You were happy. But as your skin cooled, you shivered. Bucky tucked you under the covers, climbing under with you to stretch out on his back. When you moved close for cuddles, his right arm pulled you to him. You loved the steady beat of his heart below your ear, the sheer warmth of him.

"Sleepy," you murmured. "Will you stay?"

Denny had stayed after sex but he'd immediately turn his back to you and get on his phone. You didn't know Bucky's intentions but you were hoping he might want to stay the night.

"I'll stay," his voice was rough and sleepy. 

You held each other in the cool quiet of your bedroom. Bucky only moved you to turn out the lamp. Maybe now that it was dark, you felt a little braver.

"You said... that sex wasn't the only thing you wanted with me," you reminded him. "What did you mean?"

Bucky pressed a kiss into your hair. "I meant just that. Not that the sex wasn't good because it was amazing..."

Your heart skipped happily in your chest at that.

"But it's not all I want from you," Bucky said in the darkness. "I want to get to know you. I want to talk over breakfast in the morning and eat leftover candy." His fingers traced circles around your shoulder and arm. "I want to wait for you to get off work at the florist and take you on a date. I want to have hot chocolate and watch it snow outside together."

Snuggling closer, you smiled. It all sounded wonderful to you. And if sex was that good on top of it?

"Is that yes?" Bucky asked.

"Yes," you whispered. "But... do you think we can do what we just did again before breakfast in the morning?"

His sigh was a happy sound. 

"Doll, we can do anything you want," Bucky whispered.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96 @texmex

[gingersnaptaff]

(Okay, so I know I said I was gonna do marriage laws and queenship stuff in regards to welsh laws - and I will! - but here is a nice, quick round-up about BARDS

*SHREDS ON A HARP*

Okay, so this is inspired by @gawrkin 's recent posts on bards because the laws surrounding them are SUPER FUN. And Wales LOVES LOVES LOVES their bards. (Myself included.)

Right, so, without further ado, ONWARDS.

*shreds harp aggressively again*

So the 'spurious triads' the author is referring to are presumably to do with IOLO MORGANNWG *ominous thunderclap*.

I shan't go too much into him as suffice to say, we gotta keep this shit SHORT, but he was a massive forger from Glamorgan (that's what Morgannwg means. It's his bardic name. Iolo is Edward.) who made up a bunch of triads and Celtic / medieval manuscripts including some of the Welsh Triads. Also, he is the reason why the Eisteddfod has the Gorsedd of bards.

So a mixed bag, y'know.

ANYWAY. They're very high-rank on account of being the literally Yellow Pages of Celtic and medieval Welsh societies. If you had a question that needed answering you'd ask a bard. They were like Google. They would know a man's lineage (and Welsh lineages are confusing. There were men named Dafydd ap Dafydd ap Dafydd ap Dafydd. No, I'm not joking.) battles, monarchs, myths, songs, stories. Anything.

And they had to SING. And play an instrument. Namely either a harp or a crwth.

This baby is crwth! It's a little like a violin but much darker in tone. They were extinct for a while but they've undergone a revival and they are FUN!

Also, the court bard had to SING to the queen about Camlann 'in a low voice.' I've heard various reasons suggested as to why and one of them is to remind her that Gwenhwyfar's infidelity was the main reason for King Arthur's downfall, but I think it's probably because of The Slap. Idk though. I'm just guessing, buddies.

Still, it's cool that the queen got a special sing-song.

Also, the bard being 'invested with a chess board' suggests to me that the game of Gwyddbwyll that Arthur and Owain play in the Mabinogion signals that they're bards. Gwyddbwyll being the type of chess the bards would've been familiar with. Plus, we know Arthur is somewhat of an amateur bard (Culhwch and Olwen being the prime example where he sings his terrible englyn about Cai to his face. Arthur, ur a fuckin BASTARD.) so it's in keeping with his character.

Also, I think it's adorable that the harp 'always descended to the youngest son.'

If you want a story that deals with bards and their privileged position in Welsh society and also wants ur heart RIPPED OUT may I suggest 'The Assembly of the Severed Head' by Hugh Lupton. It deals with a bard in a monastery after he's almost perished in a raid and the monks writing out the Mabinogion so they can give it to Llywelyn Fawr. It deals with war, love, loss, and also stonking good historical context. Also lots of poetry!!!!

Final fact: bards in Wales weren't wiped out by Edward the First. That's a fuckin myth. Don't come round here with ur fuckin myths. Old Longshanks has done enough already. May he eat shit.

(Also, Taliesin gets all the good rep but what about my boy Aneirin?)

Okay, BYEEEEE!!!!

P.S.: have an Eisteddfod chair!